Chapter Two
Lying on her bed, Xanthia watched as a little mouse dragged along a gold necklace across the floor, squeaking excitedly. Another one followed suit with a pearl earring. Then another one with a scrap of cloth torn from one of the plain work habits. Xanthia grinned at her little mouse army, and tossed them some breadcrumbs.
“Good job, little guys. Those bitches won't know what's hit them.”
At the mention of “bitches,” one of the mice squeaked, before covering up a smaller mouse's ears.
“Oh. Sorry,” Xanthia apologized, guessing they didn't like swearing. Much like her parents. Although Xanthia, her brothers, and her sisters used to enjoy swearing at each other outside parental and servant supervision to see how offended everyone got.
The mouse squeaked again before dropping the pearl earring in a crack in the floorboards, where many other princess items mysteriously went missing. Within a few days of deciding to seek out the mice, Xanthia had the entire batch listening to her and running errands. They seemed to like her, and a few even slept in the bed next to her. Xanthia didn't mind; they were very cuddly, and having them around the room had the extra effect of creating an invisible barrier which no princess would ever dare cross. She might have discreetly hinted to them that it would be an awful shame if the other princesses ended up with worse living conditions, having to constantly live in fear of mice, dragons, and getting old. So, of course, they obliged, using their little furry bodies to steal from the others – especially from Vanessa and her sycophantic cronies.
She'd sometimes go down to the bottom floor to see if Mokkan might give her another chance to bathe in his nice tub, and he let her, except when he happened to be busy. Either from battling Questers who made it to the final boss, from guests, or from other dragony things. He also gave her a wave and a smile upon sight, and his eyes seemed to twinkle upon seeing her perched on the tatty sofa, watching for him.
Yes. He certainly likes the attention.
With Xanthia's mouse army assembled in front of her, close to three hundred of the little creatures, she congratulated them for their findings, gave some of them kisses, making them squeak in muted embarrassment, and she stroked them behind their ears, because they happened to be rather clean creatures. She considered using them to help clear out the bathroom, but didn't want to make it too obvious that the mice listened to her.
So, instead, she stuck to her boring chores, the scrubbing, the torment of the princesses, and quietly got her revenge in other, non-violent ways.
“I don't understand why so many things are going missing,” Vanessa complained, now only wearing one pearl earring, leaving a gash in her other ear because she had no other matching pairs. “It's like we're haunted by ghosts.”
“Our castle has a ghost,” Andrea said, fluttering her eyelashes vapidly. “It likes to wail and bang the pipes in the walls, and throw things at us when we pass too close.”
“That's a poltergeist,” Belle disagreed. “Ghosts just mope around and look miserable. Poltergeists are the ones that throw things.”
When the princesses looked over at her, Xanthia said, hastily, “I lost the soles in my shoes and the ring on my baby finger.” A lie, but hopefully neither would inquire too closely.
Vanessa did however squint at Xanthia suspiciously, sensing a little part of the glee in her face.
I'm not that obvious, am I?
“I don't like you, Xanthia. You're up to something, I can tell.”
“Why would I be up to anything? I'm stuck scrubbing other people's crap and brooding about how unfair life is and my fellow princesses are.”
Vanessa made a tch sound, before dismissing her. “Go. I'm in a merciful mood today.”
A mouse skittered by her foot, and she let out a shriek of terror and jumped onto Andrea, who stumbled backwards and fell onto the floor. Belle started screaming hysterically, and Xanthia fast ducked out of sight as if running, but really, she struggled to not laugh her lungs out. She wiped her eyes and continued chortling, heading towards the bottom floor.
Already, in Xanthia's mind, she'd learned to separate herself from the other princesses. Maybe central kingdom types were different from the border or mid-ring ones. Maybe they knew how to tolerate more, though you'd think, living right on the edge of the Wilderness, the royals would be little more than country hicks. Uncouth but bold at the same time, whereas central types would wilt under pressure.
Maybe it's just me, then. Or because of how they've treated me. She shrugged, travelling down the stairwell to the bottom floor with the glass wall.
Four other princesses were down here as well, and beyond the glass, Mokkan seemed to be once again engaged in a fight with Questers.
“Get the other princesses!” one of the watchers shrieked to her friends. “Oh, get them all here to watch!”
Two princesses scampered by Xanthia, and Xanthia walked over to the wall. Mokkan, in his bright green dragon form, fought two bands of five, and in the huge cavern, he reared up to his hind legs and blasted fire in a circle, tail swishing viciously, wings flapping with such force that they created a massive slipstream of wind.
However, it looked as if the Questers were well equipped this time. Also, more and more Questers poured into the cave, surrounding Mokkan on all sides, leaving him vastly outnumbered. His scales resisted the magic, and he gave as good as he got, slicing through the Questers, but it did look as though they’d organized beforehand, choosing to come here in a massive group – likely justified by the number of princesses locked within.
Within moments, all the princesses had made it down to the bottom floor and were cheering on the Questers, groaning and crying whenever one fell.
Honestly, it looked terrible for Mokkan. The knights scored hits in his sides, and witnessing the extra speckles of blood whipped up the princesses into a howling frenzy, as they stamped their feet and clapped.
He brought this on himself, Xanthia thought, watching the dragon struggle valiantly against the superior numbers, roaring his fury, spreading out his wings rather impressively as he spewed fire, incinerating any who didn’t have protective barriers or anti-fire gear upon them.
I’ll be rescued. I’ll be sent home. I’ll be out of this miserable tower! Xanthia grinned with the other princesses. However, watching Mokkan’s efforts, remembering the few times he’d allowed her to take a bath outside the tower and smiled at her, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him.
Feeling bad for a monster? A dragon, nonetheless, the most hated foe of all the kingdoms?
She didn’t want to watch his defeat.
Vanessa, however, seeing Mokkan’s energy wearing down, his flames growing thinner, now bore her eyes into Xanthia.
“Seize Xanthia! Now!”
“What?” Xanthia said, along with some confusion from the previously squalling princesses. “Wait. What are you doing?” Hands grabbed and locked her arms from behind, and she squirmed uselessly.
“Take her to the closet in my room! Gag her! We won’t let her go with us.”
“What the fuck?” Xanthia screamed at her. “What did I do wrong? I did everything you asked!”
“I don’t like you,” Vanessa replied simply, looking her up and down. “And I don’t know how you’ve been getting yourself clean, but you’re clearly hoarding something for yourself that you shouldn’t. Up to the closet! Up! Up! Up!”
Other princesses took up the chant, and Xanthia, protesting shrilly and attempting to kick and flail, was dragged up the stairwell by the other princesses, taken to the fifth floor, and gagged with several layers of cloth. They tugged painfully into her mouth and her cries became muffled. Her hands got bound by cloth as well, and once thrown into the bare wardrobe, she heard Vanessa yelling for the others to bind it. Xanthia considered trying to tip it over, but realized rapidly if she succeeded, she’d trap herself further.
Instead she waited, fuming, trying to gnaw at the fabric, which became wet between her teeth as she attempted to control her breathing.
Soon, the princesses left, no doubt to savor Mokkan’s defeat, get themselves all released, and probably inform the Questers that Xanthia got freed earlier or ran away or something.
Furious at the injustice, Xanthia found herself sighing in exasperation. She understood why the others acted as they did. Through jealously, through a need to feel better about themselves by crushing someone else into the dirt. Through doing something, just because they could.
In short, exactly how she behaved to everyone else. Including her younger and tomboyish sister, Ruelle.
I can’t believe I’m on the other side of this. She tried shaking herself free, but to no avail.
If Mokkan’s dead, and I can’t get out of here, I might even die. The thought sent her into mild panic. She did her best to control it and stay calm, because panicking never did much for successful escapes. The darkness pressed into her, even as a tiny slice of light revealed itself through the gap where the doors closed. Tentatively shoving it, she found she could only budge it a few millimeters. Somehow, those bitches had managed to secure it really tight.
She didn’t know how much time passed. She heard nothing from below and couldn’t untie her hands or force the rag from her mouth. It felt as if it was slowly sawing its way through her lips. A bleak sense of despair instilled itself in her, and she sighed, closing her eyes, tears leaking out and trailing down her face.
Presently, she heard a scratching noise from outside. She fluttered her weary eyes open.
Did I drift off? Unsure of the answer, her heart gave a leap of hope when she heard inquisitive squeaks from outside. She responded with a muffled “Help!”
Squeaks answered. There was silence for a moment. Then the squeaks intensified, and she heard scratching all along the cupboard. Bless their little mouse hearts, they were trying to free her!
She waited with ignited hope in her veins, and the moments passed, before the mice successfully gnawed their way through the bindings holding the wardrobe together.
Not wanting to crush any of the mice, Xanthia waited patiently until they prised it open themselves and got to work gnawing through the rags on her mouth and wrists.
She’d never even consider hurting another mouse again, or owning a cat, or anything that threatened their beautiful little lives. She was free within moments from the swarm of mice working away at her, and she hugged a few of them gratefully.
“Thank you!” Her voice came out hoarse, dry. She placed the mice back down and rubbed at her red, raw wrists, sighing. Now she needed to get out.
Once the mice had cleared a path, she staggered out of the closet. Her first thought was to immediately go down to the bottom floor. Maybe she’d be in time for a rescue. Or maybe she’d find all the princesses sitting there in a mournful heap at having their dreams crushed for the umpteenth time.
Either way, the faster she got down there, the faster she’d find out. Her blood pulsed in her ear, until the sound of her heart beating overwhelmed everything else. Down the spiral staircase, awkwardly because her limbs still needed to wake up, she made it to the bottom – and her heart sank like a stone.
She saw no princesses. The door in the wall stood open and she spotted Mokkan on the floor, as still as death in his dragon form.
Stepping through the door, she noticed his ransacked home, with all the beautiful decorations yanked off, and the little room where he kept all his treasures opened and emptied. Everything was stripped and gone, and the mighty dragon, capturer of princesses, lay slain.
Xanthia could now escape. Sure, she’d be doing it without the aid of a Quester, and stood a chance of getting recaptured the moment she entered daylight… but the option existed.
She crouched by Mokkan, with his normally green, scaly face swollen up like a blueberry. She touched his snout with her palm, checking for any signs of life, feeling a little sorry for him.
For a dragon, he was nice enough.
His eyelids fluttered open, and he gave a great heave of air. Startled, Xanthia stepped back as Mokkan began coughing weakly, his scaly body shuddering.
His eyes focused on Xanthia. He bared his teeth and spluttered, “P-p-potion. I-in my kitchen. B-bottom drawer.”
Unsure what else to do, Xanthia nodded and went into the kitchen to locate the potion, wondering if it’d been looted. The bottom drawer was full of pots and pans, and she rummaged through them until locating a glimmering red potion in a tiny bottle.
Then, with trembling hands, she returned to the huge dragon and helped tip the entire vial onto his tongue. The pink appendage swished backward, swallowing the liquid. A moment later, she saw the bruises disappearing. The potion did the work, and Mokkan sighed in relief as the pain left him.
“They took them all,” he said, still lying there, eyes huge and sad, making him oddly huggable. “All the beautiful princesses I collected over the years, gone. All my efforts… for nothing. They cost me so much. And it didn’t help with making friends.” He sounded as if he wanted to cry, and the self-pitying started to irritate Xanthia. She’d heard quite enough of it from herself and the other royal bitches for a lifetime. She didn’t want to hear an adult dragon wail about it as well. Then, as if noticing something, he turned his snout to see her better out of his side-eye. “Wait. Why are you here?”
“The other princesses tied me up and locked me in a closet. They didn’t like me very much.”
“Oh.” Her response upset him. “So you didn’t stay for me?”
Ah, shit. I could have said I stayed, couldn’t I? Just to stop him sniffling. “Even if they didn’t lock me up, I didn’t enjoy watching that fight. You were seriously outnumbered.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, and a puff of smoke left his nostrils. “It’s been like that for a while. I’ve actually run out of revives and auto heals. Presumably… they’ve looted my treasury as well.”
“Yes.” Xanthia shrugged apologetically. “I’m quite afraid you have nothing.”
He shifted his serpentine neck to examine the living room, then with a strangled sob, he stomped into the room, seeing everything smashed, his decorations ruined. “I had this picture in my family for three generations! Those beasts!”
A beast calling humans beasts? The irony was not lost on Xanthia, though she now wondered if all dragons reacted like this once they lost their princesses. Or whether they usually struck deals with the people who defeated them, instead of getting robbed by a ravenous horde of elated Questers.
I can’t believe I’m even considering this. He seemed rather less like a monster than a creature which had just lost everything it had ever worked for. She opened her mouth, hesitant, before saying, “You’ve not lost everything.”
Mokkan’s tail twitched like a snake. He took a deep breath, before facing Xanthia and saying, “I’ve not?”
I’m insane. I’m actually insane. “I’m here. You still have a princess. A princess people aren’t going to be looking for in a while.” Because I bet my left eye Vanessa spread her lies about me far and wide. “You have food. Water. A bed. A bath. And you can slowly start building up your treasures again. And still have a princess to elevate your position in, uh, dragon society?”
Mokkan clung onto her words like a baby monkey, his eyes shining for a moment. “You won’t leave me?”
“Not for now. You were kind to me when the others kicked me around. I mean, I’m annoyed I’m here in the first place, but I suppose I could have been taken by a worse dragon.”
Xanthia gulped as Mokkan transformed into his human form, revealing the handsome man with the green eyes and the short red hair. His thin lips spread in a smile.
She continued speaking, forming her thoughts into coherence. “I’ll stay and help you rebuild, at least. After that, will you allow me to be free?”
Mokkan nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course! Of course. I was defeated. You’re officially free, anyway. Thank you, Xanthia.” He stepped over to her and grasped her hands in his, warmth travelling between them. “Thank you so much.”
Xanthia smiled thinly in return, utterly convinced she’d just made the worst mistake of her life.
However, seeing him smile helped dispel some of those raging thoughts, enough to control her panic and focus on helping the distraught dragon perhaps rebuild his home.