Dec 9, 2024
normalize breaking your knights' brains and then fucking them with the hilts of their own swords
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normalize breaking your knights' brains and then fucking them with the hilts of their own swords
dragon who kidnaps a princess, but not to eat.
the dragon watches with pride as their princess becomes much more selfish, loud, messy, tucking little treasures into cubbies in the dragon's den and putting her elbows on the table while she eats and shooting possessive glances at the dragon whenever they fly home with some poor hapless knight's sword stuck between their teeth.
The princess doesn't even notice when she grows bigger, her nails harden into claws and her teeth extending into fangs, when her delicate salads harvested from the nearby forest are replaced with rare steaks and roasted turkey legs and she no longer picks up a knife and fork before diving in to a meal fang-first.
She does notice when nubby tail and wings start poking out of her back, once dainty and now muscular in preparation for powerful flight. She does notice when walking upright means her head scrapes the ceiling of the den and hurts her knees so she starts to walk on all fours. She does notice when she snaps at her dragon lover over a pretty rock they find in the woods. She does notice when hair is replaced with horns and skin crusts over with scales.
She doesn't care anymore when her once flat face elongates into a snout, when her once short tail sways behind her and tangles with the dragon's when they curl up in front of the fire on cold nights.
the pair of dragons emerge from the den one day and the first roars proudly when the second flaps shaky wings and takes flight under the beaming summer sun. the dragon, princess no longer, no longer watches jealously as their lover hunts down knights alone, and the joy of mating, locking bodies and hearts together in the charred remains of the long-gone princess' ruined castle is much more pleasurable than any frilly dress or elegant ball ever was.
to be loved is to be changed, after all.
the dragon didn't set out to kidnap the princess. they wanted to see the world of humans, folded their wings and claws away into a carefully crafted disguise. the castle was friendly, a warm glow at the center of a sleepy little kingdom. the ballroom was full of swirling gowns and posturing princes, delicacies and desserts that filled the room with a sweet aroma. the dragon slipped in, her wings swishing in the same way a skirt might, her claws tapping on the floor like the spiky shoes on each lady's foot.
the music made her feel as though, even in this strange, earth-bound form, she could fly. she never meant to even speak to the princess, but she fell into her arms during the dizzying dance. her golden hair fell in waves around the dragon's shoulders, shimmered brighter than any coins in the dragon's hoard might in the candlelight.
it was only natural that, when that stuffy middle-aged prince knelt down, a patheticly tiny diamond ring in one hand, the dragon prickled. her wings flared before she could stop herself, lifting high up, into the rafters, with smoke billowing with each breath. the princess didn't run, didn't join the horde of scared little ants stampeding towards the double doors. she stood still, on the dais, transfixed by the sight of the sleazy prince disappearing down the dragon's gaping maw. the sight of her glamorous gilded cage going up in flames.
of course the dragon bowed to her, extended one trembling claw to aid her in clambering up to a safe perch between their wings. and of course, the princess wakes up every day tucked in a nest of finest silks in the dragon's lair. it is hard to escape one's true nature.
visiting knight-errant accompanies the princess to a masquerade ball.
it's spring so everyone is dancing in the gardens, it's so easy to sneak off together in the hedge maze, trading kisses and trailing touches
no one sees the pair, the princess with her dress hiked over her hips and the knight kneeling in front of her, swearing his loyalty with his tongue, and if they did they certainly wouldn't know who it was.
that is the point of a masquerade ball, right?
back to fantasizing about masquerade balls again
the eroticism of anonymity, to be able to dance and laugh and touch freely with no fear of reputation or rank or societal expectations
to flirt and tease with someone who you think you know, maybe by the color of their eyes or the dimples when they smile but maybe they are a total stranger.
no one could say who, exactly, the princess disappeared with at the ball, too many sultry shadows and swirling skirts and the dark mask concealing their face, but they all know she left hand in hand with someone in the middle of a fast-paced waltz, everyone spinning madly about the room.
but the maids still gossip about finding her majesty pressed against the wall with her legs in the air, skirts hiked over her hips while a handsome stranger curled their fingers deeper inside her.
the waiters recall watching her sink to her royal knees before a devilish-looking knight.
no one could say who, exactly she was with, not with those masks.
knight traveling as an escort for their royal, sitting in front of the tent flap to keep unsavory visitors out while the royal sleeps vs royal who has been resolutely attempting to convince the knight that they could be much more efficiently guarded if the knight joined them in bed
devil queen breaks into a church to cause mischief, but the guardian angel of the church notices and tries to stop her.
they fight hard but the devil fights dirty, pinning the angel down by their wings on the altar and smearing infernal soot on their pure white wings. ripping their holy armor off and taking them right there in the church.
the angel fights, at first, thrashing and twisting and muttering an exorcism, but the devil hangs on and keeps the angel spread out under her. shouts of fear and anger quickly turn into gasps of pleasure because even an angel can't pretend that the devil isn't well-versed in earthly pleasures that the angel has never allowed themself to feel before. finally, they submit enough that the devil can release their wings, now stained a dingy grey, and yank their halo from above their head to around their neck like a collar.
permanently transformed from a fierce and holy warrior angel to the fallen footstool of the queen of hell, leashed in place by their own halo.
modern dragon hobbies include hoarding plushies and blankets, learning all the new information it can get its hands on, and insisting old music is still good
oh, and using its ancient magics to turn cute trans girls into pet kobolds, that part is especially important. they fit in nicely with the plushie hoard.