A Modern Fairy Tale: The Princess and the Dragon

by Honor Davis


The prince could see it now. A fiery dragon, a princess from a neighbouring kingdom counting the days until her sweet escape and him- the handsome prince, mighty and brave, going toward the beast’s fires all in the name of love. 

Some would call him crazy. Why should he risk his life for a lady he has never met? Indeed, what if she were hideous and thus undeserving of a rescue? There is, after all, a reason why she hidden away from court. 


Done in the dead of night, the villagers thought she had been taken, but then it was revealed that the Queen and King had thought it best to let her grow up elsewhere- in an unreachable location, guarded by an untameable dragon, in an undisclosed location, for safety reasons...

As time went on and the twenty four years passed since the princess’ birth, the wise Prince realised that she was getting dreadfully old and volunteered himself to go retrieve the ageing damsel from her fortress. So off he went. For days and nights he followed the stars to reach the helplessly hidden princess. 


As he approached the tower - which would appear daunting and suddenly not as enticing to more feeble men. It was with a valiant heart that the prince subtly approached the dragon. The tall, night black dragon with scales arching her back and unreasonably long yellow talons protruding from claws bigger than our prince’s body. Yet the beast was not at all weak and fragile as the rumours went. What was before the strong, manly prince was something more grotesque than he could have possibly imagined.



The dragon was throwing and catching the princess in the air in a sick game, oh the horror. The sheer volume by which her screams leapt was enough to make our young, selfless prince even more sure of his next actions. 


He climbed a broken a broken staircase, leaping far from each stone step to another and it was through the remains of the tower, the initiative prince could see a clear plan of attack.
The dragon ruthlessly flung the (middle-aged) princess in the air once more, showcasing her long muscular neck. That would prove to be her first and last mistake, our prince was no match. He pierced the creature’s neck and as he did so the princess free-fell from the air. The Earth shook when the dragon hit the floor, causing a crater to form in the stone. She lay uncomfortably splattering purple liquid, disgustingly. 


Ignoring this, our prince -once landing on the floor- went to catch the princess from her descending height. Arms flailing and her voice shrieking, she would have died if not for him. Their faces were centimetres apart and the prince could hear her heavy breathing.

“It is I, your hero,” he gently announced. Yet the dragon-slaying prince was not allowed the decency of finishing his sentence. Oh no, the fiery-haired damsel has run away from his embrace. She ran to the dragon, of all places, crying!

“What have you done?” Her words escaped her mouth through breathy weeps.

“Saved you, my dear princess, you are clearly in shoc-“
“Saved me?! From what, you senseless goon?” Once again the prince was denied the pleasure of finishing, an experience entirely unheard of (for him) before this moment...
“You were being thrown in the air and you were screaming!”
“Screaming? I was laughing! It is you that must be saved if you do not run as fast and as far from this place as you can.” The prince subconsciously waved a hand through his hair in fear. It was then that the decisive prince knew the isolation must have driven the senile woman to madness. As any honourable and sensible man would, the prince ran (fled) from the scene.

Sunset orange met midnight black as Princess Gweniveve knelt by her dying friend’s head. She stroked her black scales and tried to memorise all her features she thought she would see another day.
“What did he do? I am so sorry. What has he done to you, my love?”

Gweniveve’s tears fell with years of pain. It was not the Queen and King that sent her away but herself. A world in which the future was not her own was not one she was prepared to settle for. It was those exactly like the daft, fifty-six year-old prince that she had hoped to avoid. Yet hiding herself did not end the idiocy but rather attract the worst kind and her sole friend paid for that. The prince could not see past his nose but the princess could not see past the dreamy haze of her dreams.



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