An Artist and a Dragon

The clock struck midnight, but Ingrid ignored it. She was going to finish this drawing tonight; she had to. She had been commissioned by the Queen of England herself! Her majesty wanted a picture of a dragon to hang in her bedroom, which, in her words, was "bland and dull". She wanted the picture in a fortnight. Unfortunately for Ingrid, that was a fortnight ago. She had put it off for two weeks and now she was paying for it.

"Easy does it, now..." She whispered to herself "C'mon..."

With a slow and meticulous stroke of her pen, the drawing was finished. Putting the pen down and leaning back, she covered her face, nearly in tears. Under her hands, though, she grinned. She didn't know what else to do. She was too tired to celebrate, but too excited to sleep. She pulled her hands away and looked at the drawing. It looked exactly as she had pictured it. Ingrid swelled up with pride and took a breath.

She was hungry, now. She walked to the small kitchen and grabbed an apple before returning to her studio. Ingrid started eating and taking the time to reminisce. She had started from the absolute bottom, a street artist trading paintings for food. Now, here she was, drawing for the queen. She had been promised a massive sum of money, though that wasn't specified. As she was about to take another bite, something caught her eye. A bizarre little creature was flapping around above her table.

"What the..." Ingrid lowered the apple and looked at the apparition.

It regarded her with a blink and a huff of smoke. After staring at it for a few moments, she realized it was a dragon...a really really small dragon...

The exact same dragon she had just finished drawing.

Ingrid rested her face on her hand, looking at the dragon with a sort of humored curiosity. It was dark brown, and had rather large yellow eyes that bulged ever so slightly out of its tiny head. In a sense, it was pretty cute. It picked up her paintbrush in its teeth and looked at her.

"Well, hello there." She said, reaching out to touch the creature.

The dragon waved the paintbrush around. It wanted to paint, Ingrid realized. She pulled out a blank canvas and a wooden palate, onto which she laid out a few colors. She set the palate in front of the dragon and held the canvas upright. The dragon dipped the brush into the red paint and got to work. The brushstrokes seemed very erratic and nonsensical. Wanting to see what her little guest was making, she craned her neck to look. This did not go over well with the dragon.

"Vraaaaww" It whined at her.

Ingrid laughed. "Sorry, buddy."

She did not stick her head in the dragon's way again. When it was done, it dropped the paintbrush and nodded. Ingrid turned it around as the little creature perched on her shoulder. It had painted a picture of a human girl. Upon a closer inspection, she saw that it was her. She grinned and looked at the dragon, which seemed very pleased with itself. She looked at her own drawing, which still had the original dragon on it. At least she didn't have to worry about not having a piece completed. Something told her the queen would not appreciate a real dragon.

"What's your name?" Ingrid asked.

The dragon looked down, then back up at her, expectantly.

"Oh, you want me to name you? Alright, how about...Oh, I'm not good at this..." Ingrid tapped her forehead, but nothing came to mind. "Ah, to the slums with it, I'll call you John."

John seemed to like that idea, letting out another puff of smoke and flying around. Ingrid got the feeling he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

The next morning, with John perched on her shoulder, Ingrid went to the castle. She got a few weird looks from the townspeople, but no one said or did anything. When she arrived, the door was opened by none other than the queen. She looked at her, then at John.

"Come in, Miss Ingrid." She said. She indicated the dragon "Who's this?"

"This is a long story." Ingrid said. "You probably wouldn't believe it."

"I wouldn't have believed the dragon either, but I'm seeing it." The queen countered. "Try me."

Ingrid recalled that night's events to her, right from the stroke of midnight to naming the dragon. The queen listened politely, and when Ingrid finished, she asked:

"Do you have my drawing?"

Ingrid froze, then snapped right back into action, pulling the small canvas out of her haversack.

"I'm so sorry, I completely forgot."

She presented it like a mother presenting her newborn child. The queen smiled and took it.

"Very nice." She remarked.

Ingrid sighed with relief. "Thank you, Your Highness."

She turned and started sprinting for the door.

"Wait!"

Ingrid stopped.

"Our current Artist of the Queen, as I'm sure you've heard, has just passed away..." The queen told her. "I want you to take his place."

Ingrid looked at her, her eyes wide. "Me? Your Highness, there must be some kind of mistake, I--"

"It's not a mistake, your humility has proven that." The queen smiled. "That and this spectacular dragon you have drawn me."

A small smile slowly started to play across Ingrid's face, evolving into a grin. "It would be an honor." She said with a curtsy.

Her Majesty returned the gesture and gave Ingrid directions to the studio. With that, Ingrid darted off, following the map. Joy overwhelmed her, and she looked at John, who puffed his chest, proudly. She grinned.

"We did it, John." She said. "We did it."