The Princess' Suitors

Whisper in the Woods

Deep in the enchanted forests of Evamere, a whisper danced through the trees, one that spun and looped and pirouetted through the leaves. It stirred the surface of the lake and danced its way up the river, whispering to the roots and the fish and the stones and the grass as it went. It delivered itself to every nook and cranny, not a toadstool left unknowing of its message.

“Soon.” It said, “Soon they will come, soon she will find them, soon she will be freed.” and then danced away to the next ear that would listen.

There was hope on the horizon for Princess Winifred. She had waited three long years for her story to start taking form. Now, at the age of twenty-one, her true love was on his way to her.

It was to her ears that the message came last, and was not passed to her by the whisper of the wind, but by the mouth of her dragon.

“The wind has changed, dear Winifred.” Damaris spoke. “The mate of your heart is coming at last.”

At the news, Winifred’s mood brightened greatly. She danced around the tower in joy like the whisper that had danced through the trees. She laughed, light and tinkling as she twirled, skirts swishing around her legs like an unfurling banner. Damaris smiled to herself as she watched and hoped that her love would be swift on his journey to her.

“I wonder what he will be like, Damaris! Will he be tall and kind? Will he love the things that I do? Will he be just and have a noble heart? Will his hair be fair like sunlight or dark like ebony, or will it be auburn as the first leaves of Autumn?” Winifred questioned aloud and excitedly as she sat by her window beneath Damaris’ watchful eye.

“It will not matter the colour of his hair when he arrives, I am sure. He will simply be perfect in your eyes, no matter his appearance.” Damaris answered wisely, as she always did.

“You are right, of course, but I cannot help but allow my mind to wonder. Will he be human, a shifter, an elven man? What colour will his eyes be? When I look into them will I see my love reflected back at me?” She mused.

“Whoever is to be your true love, will love you in equal amounts, he will love you as much as you love him. That is the point of a soulmate,” Damaris replied.

“I know.” Princess Winifred sighed longingly as she peered out over the enchanted forest. “I so look forward to the day that we might meet.”

“It will be soon, dear princess, the winds of fate do not lie when they speak.” Said Damaris.

“I know I am only human, but I swear I can feel it too, Damaris. The wind has changed; there is something different in the air now.” Winifred stands, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as the breeze ruffles the flowing ringlets of her hair from around her shoulders. “There is magic here, and it is finally here for me.”

Damaris smiled inwardly once more, enjoying the princess’ happiness more than she was willing to outwardly let on. She, herself, looked forward to Winifred’s soulmate turning up at last. She wondered if he would be a warrior that could match her skill, if he could stand against her and defeat her in combat to reach his destiny.

She found a spark igniting deep within her chest as she thought of what prince or knight or rogue would come for the princess’ hand, as she thought about the fun she would have in battling him. Only the one who is destined for her greatest friend could stand a chance at getting past her.

It had been so long since she had faced a worthy opponent in battle and she gleefully awaited the moment when her skill would finally be put to the test once more. Long in the past were her days training in the mountains with her clan, sparring with her fellow dragons.

It was usually so easy for her to deter the princess’ suitors that she had grown to miss the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline of a good battle.

Still, she did not let her guard drop, she stayed atop the tower, looking down at the surrounding woods in case anyone decided to try their luck at sneaking up to the walls. She would always remain diligent in her duties as Winifred’s protector.

“You must be excited too, Damaris,” Said Winifred, still standing in the arch of the window.

“Excited about what?” Damaris asked, as though she knew not of what the princess spoke.

“For the fight that will finally challenge your skill. It must be quite boring for you, chasing away all those fools, when they cannot hold a candle to your might.” the princess answered with a knowing grin.

Damaris laughed at that, creating a deep rumble in her long throat that would have been mistakeable for a growl if not for its mirth. “You are not wrong.”

“I am sure you miss your family, too.” Winifred added, empathetically. “I know that I miss mine. Simply think, once my love comes for me, we shall both be free to reunite with our people, you and I.”

“You are my people as well now, Winifred. When the duration of your stay here in this tower is done, I shall still be your friend and you shall still be mine. A dragon’s loyalty and affection is not easily earned, but mine is yours, as I am certain your own heart reflects.” Damaris responded, putting it plain and simple. “It would be nice to see my clan once more though,” she offered.

“Do you ever wonder what has been happening in our absence? Have my parents given me any siblings to dote on when I return, I wonder? How fare the women of the kingdom who helped to build my tower? Are their families doing well? Has this spring yielded a great harvest?” The princess wondered.

“I do not know the answers, dear princess, but soon you will be able to discover them for yourself.”

The princess stepped back inside her chambers and went for the door that would lead her to the lower floors of the tower. She announced, as she went, that she would retire to the library for the afternoon before making preparations for dinner in the evening.

Damaris stilled for a moment in the soft breeze. She could smell the scent of magic coursing through it with each breath, mixing with the smell of pine and oak from the forest. The sound of rustling leaves faded into the background against the quiet clucking from the hens in the keep below.

Their eggs would need to be collected again before too long.

She decided to take a flight around the perimeter of the tower, both to stretch her wings and to keep a keen eye on the men who had taken up camp along the border of the forest. They would be planning their next attempts at infiltrating the keep and thus they would be planning another failure.

If they got too close, she could always burn down their camps, after all.

Or eat them, she could also very easily eat them.

However, she did not enjoy the taste of humans, they were chewy and unpleasant. She had only ever done it on one occasion and it had been more of an accidental occurrence than a calculated one. She had simply meant to bite him, but had misjudged the power of her jaw against his shiny metal armour and his arm had torn clean from his shoulder.

She felt a very small amount of guilt about that one, but more so, she felt disgusted by his foul flavour. She wished that some of these suitors would utilise the lake downstream to bathe every now and then. She was sure they would be more appealing to the princess if they did so.

Damaris surely would never allow some filthy, unwashed scoundrel into the tower, that was for certain. Though she thought it amusing that some of these idiots had failed by their scent alone.

It seemed that the number of campers had increased in the recent weeks, to the point that there was no longer that large of a gap between their tents. It remained an easy task to tell which ones belonged to whom, though, thanks to their different colours and flags.

There were a couple of knights from the princess’ own kingdom of Evamere, but there were more still from places far beyond Evamere’s borders.

There was a group of knights, for example, from the Queendom of Heartonstone, that lay far, far beyond the sight of the Northern Mountains of Damaris’ clan. They were a kingdom consisting of wildcat shifters who prided themselves on the belief that their fates were set in stone and that their fate was whatever they decided it would be. They would chase whatever took their fancy under the guise of it being predestined.

Damaris was not fond of them.

Around the southern side of the tower, there was a collection of camps of various werewolf tribes. The ones that stood out were the ones that came from Wolfheim and Lowpine. They were more organised and tended to use numbers to their advantage.

They saw it as their pack mentality, but Damaris only saw it for what it truly was: incompetency. Why should it take a whole pack to do the work that is meant for only one man?

She took a little bit of shameless glee in sending them running away with their tails tucked between their legs, whimpering and howling.

Of course, there were also a few smaller camps, ones that had been set up by lone individuals and not parties of men. Damaris found those ones to be far more interesting and noteworthy.

They came to the tower alone, hunted alone, ate alone and sought no companionship from others of their kingdoms. She had formed a sort of respect for them, though none yet had proven worthy of the princess’ interest.

It could be assumed that legends of the guarded tower had spread to all these lands, being relayed differently each time. She wondered how some of them had come to hear of the tower or know of the princess. Was it exaggerated by failed warriors? The King and Queen of Evamere seeking the cure to the curse? Was it told by the tales of minstrels and bards?

She wondered, given her status as a great black dragon, how skewed and changed the tales of her stature had become. She was sure (in a perhaps overly confident sort of way) that whatever tales they had woven did not live up to the reality of immensity.

It was later that evening, after Damaris and Princess Winifred had eaten their dinner together in the tower, after Winifred had retired to her bedchamber for the night to sleep, that Damaris noticed that something was amiss.

Quickly, she fled the princess’ room and took her dragon form, curling around the outside of the tower menacingly, like a vicious serpent coiled around its prey. Her golden eyes darted around the foot of the keep, searching the outer edges of the walls and then darting to the treeline.

She caught a scent on the wind, one that was unfamiliar and overwhelming all at once. She felt something rumble deep in the depths of her gut, a knowing tug, a boiling heat. Perhaps this was a real potential suitor for Winifred.

Finally, someone worthy of her attention, worthy of fighting her one on one.

'Come here, come and draw your sword, come and fight me.' Damaris thought, filled with a newfound energy.

She could sense him, following the stream, walking through the forest. The air seemed to still as the fireflies hovered around the bushes and bracken. The magic of the forest was alight with something and it was not the trickery of fair folk at play.

No, this was something very real.

Pinpointing the direction that her new opponent approached from, Damaris let out an involuntary growl. She was excited.

Then from the treeline stepped a knight.