The Dragon King's Bride

Chapter 1 : Ten Pieces of Gold

Caledon's market was riddled with people. The villagers had the markets set up nearly every day in the warmer seasons. What makes a season warm, you may wonder. It wasn't a blistering heat, nor was it a humid air with a cold wind. In Caledon one might say the heat was perfect. Work too hard and the sweat might still gather on your brow. The cold seasons rendered the land barren and the people struggled too much to populate their stalls with the fruits and vegetables that now overflowed on the tables. The cold, on the other hand, did tip to an extreme. The ground would freeze solid, all while being topped with a perfect layer of snow. The people of the villages were fairly poor, earning what they could through hard work, trading, or growing it themselves. While poverty was commonplace, work was not scarce either, though the people were content. Caledon was ruled by one true king, a man who was barely a man at all. His people had no idea what the man was, or what he could be. They simply knew that he was born into power, unlike his father. He was above all his people. The castle stood higher than the five towns, right between them in what formed a pentagon. It was strategically placed, the front line if another battle were ever to take place. The last had been over a century ago. Today, however, the king walked the market with the commoners. It was not a daily occurrence. The man separated himself as if the humans had a plague. The sea of people parted before him. They pulled one another out the way, staring dumbfoundedly at the man they called the king.  The tin tapping of armor from his knight behind him had warned the people that he was coming. The other guard was heaving from the steady pace, his armor screeching at the folds instead of clanking at his pace. He was known as a cruel king and his people refused eye contact for that very reason. The market of the day would be the last for a while, winter fast approaching. Draegon peered over at a table that was laid out with elaborate pieces of embroidery. He inhaled deeply before he grumbled under his breath and turned away again. The people fell silent and the stall owner cowered. Except for a crying child and a barking dog, nothing else was heard. 

"Where is she?" The king growled to himself. He wrinkled his sculpted nose as if it would help him smell better. His dark hair hung over his eyes, but he pushed it out of the way so as not to smell himself instead. His guard, Garison, looked at him with a puzzled expression. He had been certain that the king had finally gone mad. Perhaps, he thought, it was his ageless life. All the time Garison had served the king he never aged. The king prowled through the market like a mad man, sniffing the air in search of the girl he could smell all the way from his castle. The air was filled with her scent and he nearly felt as if he was being driven insane. He knew she was no dragon like him. There was no way she would find him even if she could smell him. She was probably an idiot. With his luck he would get the most barren or under-educated woman in the lands. He knew he was lucky in some ways. She was close to home, one of his own people. If she wasn't then he would have needed to travel to search for her. Perhaps even wage wars for her. He turned and glared at some people, who quickly shied away and pretended to continue on with their business. He straightened his posture and did another round in search of that smell. It lingered strongly in one spot, but where the hell was she? He had never felt this crazed before, aching to bathe in her scent, or roll in it like a common dog. It was an instinct, the one that drove him to find his mate. At that point, it also felt like it wanted to drive him insane. 

Zofia yelled as her little sister tossed a bucket of water over her. The two broke out in laughter before an elderly woman beside the lake scowled at them. "You filthy little-uns!" She slammed her washing down on a rock and vigorously scrubbed at it. "We do our washing in here and you dirty the waters." She muttered grumpily. Zofia pulled Faye closer and glared at the old lady. 

"Sorry, Madame." She said politely. They had somehow started to fight while they were washing their materials for the market. 

"We should go help father." Zofia said to her sister. Faye, only ten, agreed with a nod. The two blondes set off running with their basket, dashing over the fields and through the people in search of their father's stall. They came to an abrupt halt, laughing as they collapsed on the cobblestone. Their father waved his hands at them to calm down, a bewildered look on his face. Zofia was used to see the man cowering in his boots. Someone else he owed money to, the young lady thought. The market was always held on the bridge that crossed the large lake. If one were to cross the bridge, the castle would come into view. It sat behind a field that had more burnt remains of trees than it had lively green trees. Zofia always thought that the castle looked scary with it's high, dark towers and the smoke that often came from it. She had been close once, on a dare from her noble friend Niklaus. Zofia could only bring herself to cross half of the field. Once she reached the burned trees she felt like she had to turn back home. It seemed foreboding, dark, like her life might change forever if she stepped over that line that separated life from death.