Author's Note: Okay, so yeah, this is totally a thing now. I wanted grumpy Derek!Dragon hording Stiles away in his lair and doing unspeakable things to him. And here we have it~
This is based off of the Polish fairytale, The Legend of Smok Wawelski/The Legend of the Wawel Dragon and the title is from a production I found on Google (which I've never seen so I can't say much about it).
In keeping with the original tale (as much as I can when it involves gay dragons and sassy boys, hah) I've decided to use some Polish terms, which will be in italics and translations provided at the end of each chapter.
It's currently unbeta-ed but hopefully I'll find one soon. I'm not new to the fandom but I'm new to writing fanfic for it. I don't really know where this is going and the rating/tags accordingly.
So, uh, I hope you enjoy my butchering of fairy tales.
XXX
Prologue: I See Fire
The stench of fire and brimstone hangs heavy in the air as Stiles, a young man of ten and six moons, crouches low behind a felled Rowan tree. Vast areas of the once lush and plentiful valley are scarred by the deepest of black, scorched by wyrmfire. Where the townsfolk once let their animals graze is now a desolated graveyard littered with the corpses of trees and the bones of lesser men that fancied themselves dragon-slayers, much like Stiles himself.
Everyone back in town says he's a fool, there's no way a simple farm boy like him can slay such a loathsome beast. Before he even set off on his journey, they start a betting pool. Most say he won't make it more than five minutes, burned to a crisp before he even gets halfway up the mountain. But he knows he can do this, he feels it pumping through his blood and calling from the very marrow of his bones. This is his destiny.
Once the Northern Drake is slain, the town will be safe and the King will bestow upon him the greatest boon of all: his beloved daughter's hand in marriage. Princess Lydia is the most beautiful maiden in the kingdom with a wreath of hair that burns bright as the sun and eyes like warm honey. Ever since he was a young lad, Stiles vows to one day make her his bride. He's drafted a ten year plan in order to woo her.
However, up until this point, he's been invisible to her Now he finally has his chance. By defeating the dragon terrorizing his town, he will prove himself a man and finally win his fair lady's heart. They will sing tales of his heroic deeds until the end of time. He will have everything he's dreamed of; fame and glory, riches beyond compare, and the beautiful Lydia beside him. He will want for nothing. Good will triumph over evil just like in the folktales his babcia* tells him late at night around the hearth as embers dwindle away to ash.
Or, that's what's supposed to happen anyway, but this folktale isn't like that at all - except when it is. There is no good triumphing over evil. There's just a lonely, temperamental dragon that really needs a hug and a young boy who realizes he just might have everything he wants right in front of him. Everything that can go wrong does, and quite spectacularly so. This time, Stiles bites off more than he can chew.
But nevermind about that, Stiles always did things the hard way anyway, why change now?
XXX
Translation(s):
Babcia - grandmother