The Dragon King's Capture

They dress me in white. They drape the white cotton dress over my figure, tying up the sleeves so they billowed out around my elbows. I brush my curly red hair slowly, savoring the feeling of the long tresses slipping between my fingers. My mother smudges rouge onto my lips and cheeks, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You’re as beautiful as always,” she whispers, holding back her sadness.

I smile sadly at her. She’s called me beautiful since the day I was born, but I didn’t learn how much of a curse that was until this year. Only a few short weeks after I turned twenty, the village voted on who would be nominated for the ceremony.

The one who would be sacrificed to the dragon king.

For centuries, my village has been terrorized by a fearsome dragon. Every decade, it descends on the village, demanding the most beautiful maiden to be given to it. The last time he came, I was ten. My mother hid me in the house and wouldn’t allow me to watch the ceremony. But still, from the corner of my room, I could hear the screams.

I stand up and smooth my dress down, looking myself over in the small, reflective dish we use as a mirror. My mother sniffles beside me, and I lean down and hold her hands between my own.

“Don’t cry, mother,” I say, trying to give her my brightest smile. “You and father and the other villagers will be able to live peacefully for another decade.”

My words only appear to make her more depressed, her eyebrows crinkling up and wrinkling her forehead. My father suddenly enters the room. His expression is as stern as it always is, but I notice a twitch in his fingers. He used to call me his pride and joy, but since the voting, he hasn’t been able to look at me.

“It’s time,” he says.

My mother can’t contain a wail, gripping my wrists and bowing her head against my stomach. I stand there and let her sob for a few moments, before pulling myself away. I can’t risk being late for the ceremony. I turn to my father and nod stiffly.

He leads me out of the house, and I see that most of the village has shown up. Many of the women have tears in their eyes. The men refuse to look at me. A few of the children stare up at me, not fully understanding what’s happening. I smile at them and give a small wave.

“Keep up with your studies while I’m gone,” I tell them. One or two groan and roll their eyes, and I can’t stop myself from giggling.

The ceremony takes place just outside the village, on a small hill surrounded by farmland. My father takes my arm in his as he leads me to the altar. It’s not much, just a gray slab propped up on four stones. It still shimmers from yesterday’s rain, and I withhold a wince as I notice small red spots dotting the surface.

“I offer my daughter, Kaleigh, to you, oh dragon king,” my father begins, his grip tightening on my arm. “We ask that you show us mercy in return for our sacrifice.”

I step forward and climb onto the altar. Behind me I can hear my father whisper that he loves me. I can hear my mother’s cries from somewhere in the crowd. I hear the villagers mutter between themselves, an incoherent murmur in my ears. And I can hear my heartbeat loudly pounding against my ribs.

It doesn’t take long to hear my approaching demise. A roar fills the air, descending on us from the gray clouds hanging in the sky above us. I look up just in time to see a dark mass emerging through the clouds. It grows larger, until I can make out the large wings, the strong legs, and the long neck and tail. It lets out another ear-splitting roar, and I feel my heart catch in my throat.

The dragon lands, four clawed feet touching the ground. Its golden scales shimmer, despite the lack of sunlight, and its leathery wings flap languidly. Its orange eyes scan the crowd before landing on me. I stop breathing. A curl of smoke rises out of its nostrils, and it flaps its wings hard and is lifted off the ground again.

I hope for a moment that this is it, that it has decided that I’m not worthy of being taken. But before I can relax, it lurches forward, wrapping one of its forepaws around my middle. The villagers behind me scream, but my own voice is missing as I’m forcefully pulled into the air. With a few more flaps of its wings, the dragon carries me up and away into the clouds.

My mind is racing as reality hits me like a felled tree. This is the end of my life. I’m going to be taken to the dragon’s lair and eaten, and then I will be no more. I silently pray that my sacrifice is worth it, that the villagers will be safe. I pray for my parents to live happily despite my death. I pray for the children I used to teach to grow and learn and leave the village as soon as possible.

Before long, I look down and see a large, crooked castle. It looks as though it were carved straight out of the mountain, resting on a cliff face and surrounded by the wild forest. I feel the dragon slow, my stomach being rocked around, and soon we are floating down.

The dragon lands on its hind legs, and places me roughly on the ground. I wobble on my feet, but manage to stay standing. Part of me wants to run, to try and preserve myself. But I can only imagine the wrath that would befall the village as a result. So instead, I close my eyes, and wait for those sharp teeth to puncture my heart.