The king heard the dragon far before he saw it. He'd been straying beside a boulder among his guards, again cursing the princess's name. He'd understood the tradition: if the bride requested some act of honor, the groom was bound to carry it out or never become a groom at all.
What a damned stupid tradition, he thought, drinking back a gulp of water. It didn't carry the same pleasant burn in the back of his throat like good, hard liquor, but at least it gave him something to do aside from turning the thoughts of the dragon around in his mind.
And then he heard it. An almost birdlike screech echoed perhaps not 400 feet from where he stood around the boulder.
"That's the—" one of the guards began before being cut off at the king putting a finger to his lips. The king, careful not to disturb the granite beneath him, peered around the rock. An almost lizard-like creature filled his vision. It was large, the size of his tower back in Reverfell and perhaps twice as wide. And green scales ornamented the beast, catching the sunlight nearly blinding him. Along its back sprouted two grand, bat-like wings, which were useless, the king recalled. Just for show, like a peacock.
The king turned to his guards, motioning for them to remain put. This was something he would have to do on his own.
Gods, he hated that princess. Steeling himself, he walked around the rock into full view—and the dragon took no notice of him. Perfect. Slowly, he began to make his way over, stepping only on the balls of his feet. Interesting. I never knew dragons were hard of hearing, he thought as he was but a hundred paces away.
Suddenly—"Sire!" He turned and dashed to the right as a fireball blew right where he'd been standing. The dragon's large, glassy eyes narrowed at him into slits.
The king drew his sword from the scabbard.
"Come on, you filthy beast! Have at me!" Just as the dragon blew out another fireball, the king darted to the side again, the heat prickling unpleasantly at his skin.
"Come on, you bloody creature—dance with me!" he spat. "Or does a small human make your blood chill?"
Just as he predicted, the dragon drew back, preparing to fire in his direction; he bolted forward, his sword set to pierce the foul creature's scaly hide.
Only to his amazement, suddenly he felt a rush of heat directly behind him, just briefly glancing back to glimpse the dragon's mouth spewing a great orange light before he disappeared in a ball of fire.
The dragon reared back, something almost like a grin picking at the corners of its mouth. And then it was a mouth. A human mouth. In place of the dragon stood the princess in a splendid green gown.
"Ah," she said. "Another tyrant reaped and another awful suitor gone in a singular move. If only everything could be as efficient."
