Northern_Lights_2016

8 “pretty little face” as “divine punishment from God.” Punishment for forgetting her place. Punishment for ever thinking for even a second that her value could be greater than the curves of her body, that her thoughts and feelings could ever matter more than her golden hair and winsome smile. Sometimes, when her energy was spent, she would flee to the castle gardens, running barefoot with reckless aban- don through the flowerbeds, returning only when the guards found her — silk dress tattered and muddy. It was on the worst of these days that Lucretia saw Verioth through her balcony window. His tremendous body emerged from the dark clouds like a monument rising out of the earth, black against the dusk sky. She marvelled at the sheer power that his physical form carried alone; every bit as beautiful as he was terrifying. He had no predetermined course; he just flew and flew, carrying his gargantuan body with effortless grace wherever he desired, no rules or aris- tocracy tethering him to the ground. Lucretia supposed that if he wanted, he could easily demolish the entire kingdom by himself, tearing down years of careful planning and strict order. She envied him. His skin was iron. His will was steel. He could destroy anyone who touched him. When the castle guards reported the princess’ disappearance coupled with a dragon sighting, rumors would buzz around the kingdom that he had plucked her kicking and screaming from her tower in the middle of the night, that the prophecies of the malevolent dragon sleeping in the mountains were true, that it wouldn’t be long until he kidnapped all their children and laid waste to their little kingdom. But Verioth did not pluck the maiden in animosity from her peaceful kingdom. She begged him to free her. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that the fearsome dragon of lore had no intent of destruction — his eyes lacked malevolence. She noticed when she had gotten used to seeing him circling the skies; his great wings flapped with a cer- tain gentleness, and his immense eyes lacked the fire that was said to be held within them. It was then, despite knowing the dangers, that Lucretia took the risk of calling out to the beast from the edge of her balcony. And it was then that a pact was formed — Verioth had found another lost soul, another iron maiden to temper from silk to steel. “Lucretia!” came the dragon’s voice, ancient tone replaced with urgency. “He’s here! Run! When it is time, I will give you the signal!” She snapped out of her trance and tightened her hold on Verioth’s blade to a death grip. Verioth had already turned from her, great wings uncoiled and ready to spring up through the gaping hole in the decrepit building’s roof. He cast her a sidelong glance and his eyes met hers one last time and held them there, smoldering like emeralds, holding in them a certain softness that was said to be uncharacteristic of beasts. Lucretia gave a short nod and the dragon burst forth through the roof, wings creating a gust that nearly knocked her to the floor. From above her came an ear-shattering roar that pierced her to the core and sent tremors rocking through her body. She had almost forgotten Verioth was capable of such ferocity. For a moment she stood dumbfounded before collecting her thoughts and running hastily up the steps that led to the top of keep. Brilliant flashes of gold and orange flashed from the tiny windows lining the stairway. The whole building shook, sometimes with such force that it threw her from one wall to the other like a ragdoll. When she finally reached the pinnacle of the keep, she was winded and battered to the point of using the sword to steady her balance. With her last burst of energy, she forced open the small wooden door at the top and peeked only her head out. The sight that beheld her both horrified and thrilled her. Flames and smoke filled the air from every direction while the sky seemed to cry tears of cinder and ash. Verioth clung menacingly to the side of the keep, his great body wrapped protectively around the structure. From where Lucretia looked out at the scene, only the back of his mighty horned head was visible. After some squinting she noticed her would-be hero had somehow climbed to the top of the parapet walk, walking a fine line between maintaining his balance and crashing to the earth far below him. His armor and large shield had managed to stave off the dragon’s fire for the time being, but she wondered how long his body could resist the heat — royal armor or not. Suddenly the weary knight cried out with impressive volume over their thunderous clash. “ I demand you tell me where you have stowed the princess, foul beast!” You simpleton, Lucretia mused to herself, you act as if the battle has already been won, but you are the one teetering on the edge of death. She strongly desired to erupt from the door in a blaze of Verioth’s flames, putting an end to this man’s foolish self righteousness and finally exacting her revenge on him. Seeing him again ignited a flurry of red-hot emotions that nearly made her forget about the uneasiness she felt towards the events that were about to unfold. This particular warrior was a knight belonging to the king’s order, and having earned favor with him over the years, had been granted special privi- leges that allowed him to maintain exceptionally close relations with the royal family. So close, in fact, that he was given permission to guard the princess’ chambers; so close that no one stopped him or made a fuss when he defiled his post by breaking and entering her room late one night while she slept. “A wretched being with a heart as black as yours could never know the feelings of a feeble, kindhearted maiden!