/lit/ - Literature

There he was again – riding that gallant white horse of his as he did. Prince Allan of Dreameria, the third of his name; a noble man of great virtue and honour was riding off again to hunt me down – to slay me, as it was accustomed for the kings of the Dreamerian line to do so when they reached the peak age of twenty. Which is also a fading tradition last I hear, and I don’t blame them; there isn’t enough of my kind to go around for each boy to slay. Oh, that’s right – I might just be the last of my kind left. The final link in a long noble line of air kings reaching as far back as the very crafting of the world itself by the hands of the Great Smith; when humanity were little more than mindless barbarians wondering about in the wilderness. I am Tamerania, the princess of the Forlock clan, or at least, was the princess of the Forlock clan. And I am a Dragon. The last of the dragons, to be more precise.
My father was slain two hundred years ago for his scales when dragon hunting became a national human sport, and my mother got slain – ooh, about eighty years ago; when the plague in the human kingdoms hit an all time high and none of the little brutes could fathom to make a cure for themselves – so they took the ingredient from her blood instead. It wouldn’t have been so bad, too, if it didn’t work out so well, and now the little blighters have become more widespread than ever.
But I suppose this is the part where I tell you the story of my last time on this wretched earth and you would be correct; but before you go assuming it will end in the blood and death of a thousand human warriors, it just may – if any of them dared touch my Allan…
For you see, I have fallen in love, with a human; yes, a human. Me, the last of the air kings, the last of my kind – in love with a worldly prince whom at this very moment was saddling up to kill me just for the petty sake of having something of me to show off at his next banquet. Isn’t that just perverse? So I have made an ultimatum – and struck a bargain with a friendly wizard who says he could make me human for a good few days, and that if I could get the kiss of true love from a human, any human, I would stay like that forever.
Was it a disgrace to my ancestors – to everything that made me a dragon and counting all the generations before and thereafter them? Yes, absolutely. Did I care?
Well; how often is it to find a dragon who fancies a human to say, ‘yes’?