A Collection of Short Stories

The Prince

The dragon hissed poisonous fumes beneath her, ever loyal and loving to his mistress, gently helping her down from his back.

"You are a jewel, Byrve." The villainess smiled at the monster, completely different from the smile she preserved for the less fortunate folks who regularly came to challenge her on this cliff, to take her down. But none succeeded ever. She wasn't Morgana' apprentice all eternity for nothing. She was invincible and she reveled in it.

Her smile for the dragon, if it was ever seen by a mortal would be deemed undoubtedly motherly, like a parent for her precious child as she chided the horrifying monster softly, patting his head, almost like musing about him in adoration; as if that was even possible for such a terrifying fire-drake or such a villainess both to show and receive affection.

"I wish I could stay my dear, but seems like those foolish gods sent yet another stupid mortal to be devoured by my fire." Her voice was steely for a moment before it softened again, at the dragon, her hard features, steely from years of possessing wrath and endless grudges at the world, changed to her true beautiful ageless countenance again.

Only the dragon could bring out that side in her, only he had ever been faithful and loving, and child-like to her. To the whole world, he was the definition of ruthless death and devastation, but to her, in the black castle in her bleak mountain top, he was a hero, he was adored, and free of bounds. The world had never been good to either of them. Both outcasts since their early youth, they sought for love and companionship from each other. Only ever Morgana saw her true worth, and for that she was ever thankful to the necromancer.

The fire-drake whined softly in protest, unwilling to leave its mistress to face yet another foolish man, but was shushed by a motherly chide and gentle reproach, followed by a tinkling laugh emanating from his guardian.

"You fear far too much for me, dear child, I will never go anywhere, you forget I cannot be killed nor damaged. They cannot touch me before getting devoured by my flames." She found his worry amusing as she gathered her elaborate robes and strode out, sparing a last soft gaze at the monstrosity, vanishing out of his gaze, evidently changed from her gentle outlook to the fearful villainess Alwena, the queen of fell beasts and darkness, the terror of the seven seas.

She came to stand in front of the broken pavilion, the sky ashen, as rain threatened to burst out of the overcast clouds. The weather was chilly, and unforgiving like the mistress that controlled it, while freezing winds whistled past the area in shrill notes, sending shivers down the spine. But the evil queen was immune to all elements of nature. Her ageless features, hidden behind her black robes and black cape showed nothing but ruthless cruelty. They knew not a speck of mercy in her eternal entirety.

She heard small pattering footsteps a gentle breeze brought in her ears, as a tress of her raven-black hair blew and fell on her face delicately.

"Come out." Her voice was icy, and dark. A strange seductive purr underlying in her words, enough to freeze the hearts of even the most valiant of knights. She wondered, what fool she would have to burn that morn, and even why she cares to come here anymore. She's far too superior and bored for their little games. It has been three long centuries and yet the mortals nor their pesky gods stopped hoping beyond hope that one day they will defeat her.

Her cruel steely face split into a dangerous smirk as she approached the source of the sound. She could hear a heart beating at a maddening pace behind one of the ancient Menhirs that encompassed the destroyed pavilion once hailed as a sacrificial ground by the ancient warlocks and druids.

With a languid stroke of her hand, she raised the source of frenzy freely into the air from behind the ancient stone structure and was shocked, for the first time in many centuries at the revelation.

"A child?!" She exclaimed as rage flooded through her veins, "How much lower will you stoop O' sentient beings, sending innocent children to death?! And these are the gods those fools worship?!"

The child, a boy of five or six merely whimpered as he clutched on to the dagger he was admonished to use on her.

"Tell me child, why were you sent?" Her dark voice, half-intended for the little bundle immediately drew tears like the downpour on a summer day, as the quivering form burst out into a sobbing and imploring mess, whatever bits of courage it had managed to acquire, all fading in front of the powerful dark being.

He wanted to be a knight when he grew up, so when the elders found there weren't any more men willing to sacrifice themselves to the sorceress' ire, they sent him, being brave, or rather a naive one, an easy target chosen by their gods.

The incoherent confession in between bitter sobs from the little form left a horrible taste in her mouth. Alwena was proven right once more, against her explicit hopes, humans are really by far, the worst possible creatures ever to step on the world.

She was surprised at herself when she uttered her next words, as she pulled the little sobbing and trembling mess in her arms, tucking him against her chest, wrapping her cloak and bundling him comfortably in them, holding him close, as she whispered soothing spells in his ears walking out of there, never to turn back.

Her ears still rang with the sharp cries of a very young girl, barely in her adolescence, dragged out of her dead parents' house by the elders of the village into a dark corner of the alley, as they showed their primal and twisted side of them on that beautiful innocent girl.

Finally she had been alone, with no one to guard her, and they had had their way on her, her desperate cries and pleads hidden behind rough hands that strangled her until she passed out from the pain of being ripped apart from the insides, a pain she never felt before, nor ever after.

She had regained consciousness six weeks after that incident, healed of her physical scars and shortcomings by an unknown female, the infamous Morgana who had taken pity on her, and healed her once she was discovered near-dead after they threw her aside at the edge of their village in a pit, a disgraced and ravaged mess, to be fed on by scavengers perhaps.

She had healed that day, thanks to the necromancer, but she never forgave humanity ever since. The little boy's plight that day reminded her of that fateful morning yet again, something she could never leave behind no matter how much she had tried in the past. Something broke inside her icy heart that day the moment she snuggled the child in her arms. Perhaps, she could reset her childhood through him, perhaps all hopes were not lost with her, perhaps she was indeed capable of love and redemption. The innocent face of the slumbering child made her rethink her stay in these doomed lands and she made her decision.

She was determined to take him away, teach him everything she knew, even give him her immortality, shower him with all the affection she preserved in her broken heart, build an empire for him, and guard and transfer it to him when she had grown tired of her existence and make him the greatest hero ever for her to fight for all who faced the same fate as hers, who lived as the so-called outcasts.

The little child was long asleep in her arms, snuggled close to her listening to a soft lullaby the queen knew not she still remembered from her childhood, one of his small hands clutching gently yet firmly around her neck, almost as if he trusted he was in good hands even when he walked in dreams. She was determined to fly away from this place, never to return or bring her precious child anywhere within a thousand leagues of this country that brought nothing but sadness and heartbreak to them all.

When she approached her faithful stead, she whispered something indecipherable in his ears as she climbed on his back, and together they flew to the far east, away from this land of darkness and gloom in a place where there was hope and happiness for them all.

She placed a tender kiss on the sleeping boy's temple, something she hadn't done nor received in an eternity as they flew over mountains and moors, and grasslands towards happier lands. Her gentle act earned a small smile from the sleeping child as he clutched onto her dark royal garbs firmly, and her loyal stead smiled to himself. Their kingdom long had her queen but finally she had their prince today.