I started writing a thing, it involves a dragon and a princess
TW: assault mention, bruises, blood, injuries
there will be more of this soon but I'm considering selling it as a short story through Amazon when it's complete for like a dollar if it ends up being long enough
(for the record there are some vague references to the setting of the game Pandy and I are working on only because I can't bring myself to write in any other setting anymore, but this story takes place several hundred years before the time of the game)
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The forests of Fordinne were uncharacteristically quiet the night the princess disappeared from the capital. Aside from the few farmers along the forest's edge trained to listen for the seasonal resurgence of insects, this strange silence went largely unnoticed. By midnight the capital would be thrust into an uproar all their own, upon the discovery of the princesses empty chambers by her mother, the queen. So the rumor spread, however; it was more likely her retainer or a servant was the one to discover the vacant quarters and went on to inform her majesty. Regardless of the circumstances, within the hour torches were struck and teams of guards patrolled the streets tenfold. There were no footprints to be found leading away from the forest, and no signs of struggle seemed evident. It was as if the young maiden had simply become a mist and dispersed into the night sky.
The princess who now wiped dirt and tears from her face as she trudged through the undergrowth of Fordinne forest, however, was decidedly not a mist or a fog. In fact she had never truly conceptualized her physical presence until this very moment, as callouses formed on the soles of her feet and slender branches left lashes on any inch of bare skin they could reach. They stung in the open air, but she refused to stop as she moved deeper into the forest. Only the crescent moon peeking out from patches in dark storm-clouds illuminated her wandering path, the light from the capital lost to distance. She had not thought to take a weapon upon leaving the grounds let alone a lantern, and her rational side had berated her for it ever since. To be truthful she had not thought much at all. She pulled her thin nightgown tighter around herself.
It was not long before the light of the moon faded, replaced by a thick cloud cover that thrust the forest into blackness. The princess took this as a sign and slowed her pace, until she finally stopped to steady herself. She looked back the direction she had come from, but she couldn't hear the clanging of armor or the beat of horses. In fact she heard nothing at all, save the rustling of leaves in a developing wind. The forest was silent. Knight Frierzalt was not pursuing her, which was the important thing. There would be no walls to conceal her here. A shot of pain through fresh bruises on her arm and face caused her to flinch at the thought.
Concentrating on other matters, Princess Madeira spread her hands and tried to envision the dusty tomes of the mages within the castle libraries. Her tutors had only brushed upon these books in passing, but she recalled enough principles of spell-casting to summon a bright-orange flame within her palm. The spell became a gently tugging presence she could feel within her chest and on the periphery of her mind as it began to draw power directly from her vitality. Madeira was decidedly not mage material; the flame could not grow much bigger or burn much brighter without straining her, but it would be enough to serve as her guide.
With flame in hand, her breathing became steadier, and she began to take stock of her situation. She was alone in the treacherous Fordinne wilderness in the dead of night, with nothing more than an amateur spell to defend herself. She could practically hear her father's voice in her ear telling her firmly to stop this foolishness and return to the castle at once, but the idea of running back in the state she was in deterred her. She could only imagine what her mother would say to see her like this, grime covering her features and hints of tears staining her battered cheeks, cuts and scrapes bleeding on the fabric of her nightgown. Not to mention the possibility of running into Frierzalt on her way back. She would have to find a place to hunker down for the night, try to get cleaned up, and then return when the sun rose. She pushed away from the tree she had been leaning against and continued onward at a slower pace, her small flame lighting the way.
Before long the wind had escalated, and soon it had whipped itself into a howling frenzy. Madeira held her flame close to protect it from being blown out, her other hand clasping her nightgown closed. A flash of lightning lit up the skies, followed closely by a distant thunderclap. Rain would soon follow, but Madeira's attention was elsewhere. Namely, what seemed to be an infinite wingspan of a great beast overhead, silently coasting above the canopy and blotting out what little light was visible through the clouds. The princesses heart jumped and she snuffed out her flame, hoping to hide herself from the monster as it moved on. For a moment she stood in darkness.
The creature was traveling in the same direction she was going, and there was no question of its power. It was a dragon of the wilds. There were no creatures foolish enough to challenge a dragon. A dragon's scales were thicker than armor, and their fangs were sharper than steel. The fires that coursed through their veins could feed a hundred thousand forges, and their breath seared flesh from bone and turned entire armies to ash. This was the dragon's territory, and if the beast desired it could raze both forest and city in one exhalation.
The realization sent awe through Madeira. Any semblance of power she held as heir to the Fordinne throne paled in the face of destruction itself. The ball of flame conjured within her palm seemed even smaller now.
More importantly, the dragon was feared by peasants, knights and kings alike. If Frierzalt was still in the forest, he would have seen the dragon as well. He would not dare confront it, even for her.
It was with that thought that Princess Madeira steeled herself and pushed onward, following in the wake of the dragon.