Treasured by the Dragon

Ch 1: Tribute

I admit, I daydreamed about my wedding as a little girl. Not about the groom or my married life to follow. Just about the wedding itself.

As a princess, my role was made clear from the moment I could understand basic commands. Love and happiness are things commoners get to enjoy. Royals, though, we trade in those luxuries for power and wealth.

I never looked forward to whatever bland noble they'd marry me off to, but I didn't have any say in the matter, so I accepted my fate.

He'd be whoever he was, and that was that.

However, I'd at least enjoy the wedding. I dreamed of a grand event with flowers from every corner of the realm filling the banquet hall. A full orchestra playing music until our legs couldn't dance anymore. A dress tailored to fit like a glove so everyone would know what a prize my future husband had won.

I take a deep breath, running my fingers along layers of gauzy silk.

The dress isn't far from what I dreamed of. Silk of the purest white floats behind me like a summer mist. My back is bare, and a collar of gold holds up the fabric covering my chest. The draped silk pulls at my hips, my legs peeking out with my every step.

Tonight, I surrender my freedom to duty.

At least I have a dress that will sear my image into the memories of all the guards marching me to the altar, even if I don't have the flowers, music, or a groom.

Well, at least not a human groom.

"Taliyah."

My mother stands, sniffling and shaking, at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the sacrificial altar.

I ignore her as she wraps me in a tight embrace. Instead, I look up the stairs to where tongues of flame lap at the heavy air. Tips of vibrant orange wings come into view, and a roar of displeasure echoes off the mountains.

Seems my "groom" is as cranky as I am.

I can sympathize. He thought he would get his annual tribute of gold and jewels, and I thought I'd be facing a man at the altar, not a dragon. Finding common ground is important in a relationship, right? Even one where I'll either end up eaten, burned, or crushed?

"Mother," I sigh, trying to pull from her tightening grip, "let's not prolong this further."

She wails at my request, and I roll my eyes. Her and Father decided my fate. She needs to accept it, just as I have. Am I happy about it? No. Have I come to terms with the fact I can't escape it? Yes.

I always knew happiness was a dream.

"Come, Nikalin. Our daughter is strong. Take comfort in her resolve. Her sacrifice will become a beacon for our people. She will never truly leave us."

What good is being praised if I'm dead? Not like I get to reap the benefits. Let's call this what it is: the execution of a convenient pawn.

I narrow my eyes at my father, the man whose poor financial decisions landed me in this spot.

He looks away, the coward. He isn't just a spineless monarch that happened to sire me, but also a lazy fool.

Eight kingdoms form our realm, and each one handles the year's offering in turn. He had eight years to save up for our tribute, but he and my mother just kept putting it off. Then war breached our borders, and saving up was no longer an option.

I pry myself from my weeping mother, who keeps one arm linked in mine as we ascend the stairs. My father stays silent, not once glancing my way. My mother shudders with each rolling wave of the dragon's hot breath cascading down the steps.