The frigid air seeped through her velvet dress and chilled her rosy flesh. The subterranean holding cells or as most would say, the dungeon, were not the warmest place even during the end of summer when the heat still lingered. Most of the castle was cool but the dungeon was always freezing no matter the season. For a moment she almost turned back to fetch a cloak then the faintest of noises caught her ear.
It sounded like scales rubbing together.
It was said that the dragon that lived underneath the Golden Keep was the largest of its kind. That during the wars it had blotted out the sun as it flew. The dragon was fierce and cruel and black. Black as night, black as sin, black as iron.
This did not scare her.
Ever since she was a girl, her brother had raised her to be confident and lady like. She was schooled and guided by the best instructors in the land. Dragons were the least of her concerns. He had told her every day that she was his princess.
Because, she was a princess.
She was the princess of the Golden Keep, one of the oldest castles to survive the wars. And because she was a princess she had the birth right to command the dragon of her family. Before the wars each noble line had a dragon, where they came from no one quite remember but that wasn't important. What was important was that the families controlled them and used them in battle. For centuries it was the norm.
The Golden Keep had always owned the Black Dragon.
It was a fact that one day she would be its mistress. The dragon would never turn against her or disobey her. Her brother had never been harmed by it and never needed its aid. There was peace in the lands now. Many of the dragons killed each other so the castles were wary of fighting against such an old house. Everything was fine.
Until her brother passed away.
He was a sickly man. While he was tall and kind, he was also pallid and weak. The healers told her it was a lifelong ill and there was nothing to do for it. So she visited her brother every day and prayed for him.
Her prayers went unanswered.
The Rosy Princess then became the Golden Queen just as her forefathers and mothers had. And like them she must chain herself to the Black Dragon that slept in the dungeons. It was a tradition or a rite of passage that her kin followed for the sake of their kingdom.
She just wished it had been her brother's child following the rite.
The last step lead to a solid oak door covered in bands of iron shaped like swords. Swords, her family's swords, lined the walls on either side. There were so many they overlapped each other and looked like a swarm of beasts. She had placed her brother's slim rapier closest to the door. One day her sword would join them.
Hopefully she would never use it.
The door made no noise as it swung open. She stepped into the pitch black realm beyond it with her head held high. She was the rightful heir to the Golden Throne and must do her duty as queen.
Maybe she was a tad nervous.
Out of the darkness echoed a voice. It spoke to her of bonds and oaths and blood. She answered back with declarations and commands and rituals just as her brother taught her. It was silent. Two emerald fires sprang up in the void. Then a jet of actual fire curled up around the now reveled jaw of the dragon. The fire was emerald and jade and peridot.
It was pretty.
The dragon told her its name and in return she gave it hers. Names are powerful things and exchanging them wrought a bond between them. The Black Dragon then advised that she return to great hall and tend to her people. It or as she knew now, he, called her woman.
She still felt like a girl.
Unlike her brother she visited her dragon often. He wasn't nearly as frightening as the stories said. All he did was prowl around in the dark and breath jewels. If she listened hard and stood still in the halls sometimes she could hear the murmurs of his movement. He was as large as the stories said. At first, when she visited him the dragon refused to talk to her, heaving one sigh as she began to chatter. Acting as the queen required a certain amount of decorum that she didn't naturally have. She knew no one else could see her like this with her dragon. So she talked of dreams and worries and food.
The dragon never complained about her silliness.
Instead he called her woman and gave her short replies. He would even tell her about her grandfather's eccentricities or the warrior queen that lived centuries ago. As she recalled events he questioned her decisions and actions. The new queen was grateful for the indirect advice. He certainly had been around to learn so much.
Being a queen was hard even if there were no battles to fight.
Her sword was forged and she brought it down to show him. It was broader than her brother's rapier yet still slim for a broad sword. The blade looked like copper to match her sun red hair. The pommel was golden in the shape of a six petaled flower with sapphires. It was very pretty.
But the blade was sharp when she touched it.
When he saw it the dragon questioned why she had brought it down to the dungeons. She shyly said she want to show off her new possession. He sighed out a cloud of jade smoke. He said that this meant the kingdom needed his blades and flashed his teeth. She yelped out a negation and apologized for her mistake. A dry chuckle floated in the shadows. He asked her if she could wield it which led to her running the few steps her childhood instructor taught her.
Only humans would think a weapon was beautiful.
It is a few years later when she goes to him with thoughts of a bright haired man in her head. The visiting knight is common born but respected in his kingdom. He is part of an escort for the princess from the Moon Kingdom. Her hearts feels odd when she sees him so she runs to her dragon like a young maiden.
She is a maiden but not so young anymore.
Her dragon is silent as she confides to him. His emerald eyes slit and more smoke rolls from his mouth than usual. She is too caught up to notice. Her stiff gold brocade dress stands around her where she sits like a small wall keeping the smoke at bay. The dragon answers her with a reminder that he has never seen a female dragon outside of combat and regards love as a thing that distracts kings and makes fools out of men. He is above human concerns.
The queen thinks he sounds bitter like a too green apple.
When the knight leaves, the queen sulks in her bedroom. The dragon waits in his domain until one night she creeps down the stairs with a stolen apple pie from the kitchens. They sit together in silence as she feasts on it and offers him a slice. Matters have returned to normal.
She was older now.
Seasons came and went, babies were born, crops were harvested, and the Golden Kingdom seemed at peace. Still she is alone. Other than the knight from the Moon court, no other catches her eye. Her attendants suggest other men, old and young, to no avail. The stories her dragon tells her of the warrior queens and priestess princess fuel her refusals. She has no need for a man other than to produce an heir.
Her kingdom loves her enough.
A group of foreigners comes to her court. She has never seen the bright hues of hair and eyes before or the strange markings on their skin. They dress differently from the long gowns with sumptuous fabric and gems that decorate her court. She is not vain but her tailor dresses her well. These people wear only white and tell her of a kingdom and a king that wish to ally with her. The king rules a desert.
A desert cannot be a kind place with a kind king.
With no small amount of hesitation the queen agrees to a meeting with this king. At the same time her quiet army rouses itself at the borders. Peace must be kept. Her dragon grumbles deep in the earth. She is comforted by him when he means to warn. He trusts few and not this king.
Lessons come at a hard price.
The king arrives at her court in full splendor. Long legged humped creatures pull and carry his palanquin and those of his court. White horses bear gifts for her, white silks and ivory carvings and silver jewelry. His court still has the bright colored markings and hair with utilitarian white ensembles. There are a few guards with them that have strange masks over their faces. The queen is fascinated by the newness of her guests and forgets some of her distrust.
A snake has come into her garden.
At the head of the procession into her main hall is the Desert King. He is tall with a gentle face, not at all like she imagined him to be. In fact he resembled the castle librarian. From her throne she called out her greetings and guided him to the chair one step lower than hers. Over the next few hours gifts were given to her and the typical royal pleasantries were made.
A viper doesn't always look like one.
Royal meetings always took long. Banquets were held nightly in honor of the visiting court; no expense was left to impress the king. The Golden Keep was wealthy since its lands flourished in peace time and the harvests were plentiful. The Golden Queen gave gifts in return to the Desert King, a set of gold glazed vessels and a vibrant tapestry weaved by her own hand and a heavy chain with precious gems. The queen was generous even with those she should be wary of.
The look in the king's eyes sharpened.
In the lull of activity that came after a feast the queen went to her dragon. He waited for her with a disapproving look. The queen tried to explain her decision to trust the Desert King. The dragon told her that she needed to look at the king and trust reason not her emotions. If one looked at her what would they see? She told him that he was acting as if he was a seer not a friend.
The dragon makes her think again.
When the visit nears its end the king makes his move. As the two courts sit combined in the great hall he makes his proposal to her. The Desert King would make her his queen and unite their kingdoms. Of course they would rule from her Golden Keep since she is so comfortable here. The king's eye gleam greedy and the queen finally sees.
Her dragon is much wiser than her.
She stalls with entreaties to let her rest and consider the offer. Her smile is tense and the king's stare misses nothing. It is hard not to run to her chambers. When she is sure no one if in her quarters, she opens the door to the Black Dragons lair. The bright sword comes with her.
Her dragon is there to serve her.
The oak and iron door opens faster than ever. He is already waiting for her; he could feel her agitation and the hushed silence of her court earlier. Her sword reflects the fire of his eyes. They look at each other as the first screams waft down to their ears.
The king does not wait.
She calls his name and he erupts out of the dungeon straight up into the heart of the castle courtyard. It has been centuries since he last saw the sky. There is no sun for him to blot out but the moon cast a shimmer onto his scales. From his place in the sky he can see that the Desert King's army is already past the borders. The weaker Golden Army is out of practice and the nomads cut them down like wheat.
The Black Dragon serves his queen with verdant blaze.
Gleaming metal in clenched in her hand as she runs up the stairs through her chambers and out into the great hall. She knows that her dragon is fighting the invaders for her. Her duty lies in the castle and in ridding herself of the traitorous king.
Her sword may come of use.
Red silks fly around her legs. The air above her is stirred by more than one set of wings; her dragon is not the only weapon in the sky. Glimmers of blue and pink and yellow reveal that the Desert King has not only one but three dragons of his own. Fear grips her heart.
She only has one blade to wield.
The Black Dragon twists and turns as the enemies close in. Their teeth are pearly and sharp. Hot fire erupts on his side but he slams his tail into a gossamer wing. A wild blue dragon calls out insults, naming him heartless and ancient and weak from being trapped by humans under the stone walls of a castle. The startling pink dragon details plans to dismember him and to place his bones in a white palace. But the collected yellow dragon tells him nothing. It has been centuries since his last battle. He is older now. The speck of copper he spies far below drives him to fight even though his logic tells him to flee.
One blade cannot hold off three.
A cool voice pierces the queen's focus. She swings around with her bright sword in front of her. That white snake stands in front of her with an amused smirk. He asks what a noble lady is doing with a naked blade, why couldn't she agree to marry him, it would be so much more convenient, and a kingdom razed by warfare doesn't nearly as well as a peaceful merged one. His words fall on deaf ears. The queen has steadied her grip and chosen her path. A hand reaches out to graze her hair.
Such a pretty blade can still kill.
Crimson blooms on white cloth. The king didn't anticipate that the queen would ram her blade into his chest. She appears delicate and gentle but her spirit is strong. A man's body is left on her hall's floor as she runs out into her courtyard.
But her dearest blade has fallen.
Her dragon is still beset upon by the trio from the desert. Even with the death of their master they continue to attack. He is a strong dragon when fighting a duel like the old ways. He cannot keep the advantage when attacked on all sides at once.
Crimson drops fall from a great height.
His teeth latch around a sapphire neck tearing the flesh. A pink wing is torn asunder by massive claws. Suddenly, a thick tail slams into her dragon's side and a loud crack rings out. Darkness falls down. The queen runs to where he landed. She cries for him to get up. He must get up! He is her blade, her strength, her confidant, her dragon. Rosy limbs encircle his snout. Blood soaks her red dress. The dragon weakly groans her name and how he didn't want leave her alone in the ruins of her kingdom. She doesn't realize he is gone until the hands of her allies from the Moon Kingdom lift her to safety.
Truly, she was alone now.
Orihime Inoue wakes covered in sweat, gasping, and blinking tears from her eyes. The dream is already fleeting yet she still runs her hands over her nightgown to check for a heavy gown or the slick feel of blood. When she finds nothing relief fills her. Ever since she came to Hueco Mundo strange dreams plagued her. Sometimes they were as if she was alive in a different time or a different place. The only constant was the dark figure that was her companion in her dreams. He could be a knight, a childhood friend, a musician, or a dragon.
"Onna, this is the fourth time you have woken this way. Your mental health must be deteriorating."
It was him, Ulquiorra, her warden in this place. His green eyes were too intense and made her feel uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry. It's just…my dreams…"
"Dreams? Some human foolishness I gather. Try to control yourself better. Aizen-sama would be displease if you are not well."
"I'll try..."
He leaves then and Orihime feels lonely. Even if he is scary, she still welcomes his company. Maybe if they talked more they could be friends. She knows that is a silly wish. In this white palace there is no friendship. There are no fairytales.
Author's Note
I love any sort of fairytale AU for them and wanted to try my hand at it. Dragon and Queens and their relationships are interesting to write. It's all that Game of Thrones I'm reading! You could read this as romance or friendship or whatever you want. It's probably the most serious thing I've ever written. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes or typos. I might be on the market for a beta soon. I may write some other oneshots for this pairing later on.
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