This... This one's mostly crack. Okay, all of it's crack. Crack and crap. I want a funny one plus it's fantasy. So if you don't like/want total weirdness and disregard for my normal writing style, then I'll write another chapter anyway.
Sleep is for wimps.
But dragons! And... People... I need sleep.
(I'm literally writing these and uploading them. You think I have a load of pre-written ones? Lolp nope. )
Thank you for the reviews last night, I love you all!
But next Tuesday (8 days) either the amount of chapters is going to go down or my school work is going to crash and burn. I'll probably update every two nights?
And this is literally crack, written at one o clock in the morning, by a delirious mind.
Fez.
"Castiel! You will kill the dragon and you will return to me with all the treasure, and then, and only then, will you take my daughter's hand in marriage!" Boomed King Metatron.
Castiel looked tiredly at the king. To be honest, he didn't really want to marry the princess. She was a bit of a bitch anyway.
"Of course, your Highness. I will return with the dragon's head?" he said and, bowing twice, to the insufferable king and slightly less insufferable daughter, and wandered out.
Castiel didn't really want to get married. He was only doing it because it made his mother happy.
He went to find his horse. He didn't have a name, because he was a horse. He checked he had his sword in his sheath, there had been an incident where his sword had ended up somehow stuck behind him. (he still didn't know how the hell that had happened.)
Castiel flicked the reins on his grey mare, who began cantering towards the craggy peak of the mountain where the dragon dwelled.
Three, bruising, mind numbingly boring hours later, Castiel was beginning to regret trying to be nice to his mother and court the princess.
Another two hours after that, and Castiel was hating the Lord of the Rings. It didn't show how much journey's suck. Bilbo didn't have a mute horse for company. He had several hung-over dwarfs.
A grand total of seven hours after he set out, Castiel had finally named the horse Paenitere.
Latin for regret.
Pae finally slumped at the top of the mountain, his owner flopping down next to him.
"Promise I'll kill it tomorrow..." Muttered Castiel.
XXXxxxXXX
When he woke up, he was inside the cave, staring at the looming ceiling. Until a freckled face with eyes greener than dewy grass appeared above him.
"Hi!" It yelped and drew back as Castiel sat up.
All his stuff was there, Pae was sniffing at a mound of dark green.
Castiel couldn't care less about what the hell it was.
"Who are you?" He muttered, lying back down again as his behind was increasingly sore.
It must be as black as Metatron's soul at the moment from all of the bruises.
"I'm Dean."
Castiel squinted at the boy.
"Okay... Where's the dragon? Why's it just you in here?"
Dean pointed behind him at the mound of green. Which began moving.
"That's Non Magna Haec Res. Or Res, for short."
Castiel was now feeling like one of the hung-over dwarves from LoTR.
"Is that the dragon?"
"Yes."
"Why did you name it Non Magna Haec Res?"
"It's true."
"Not Very Big Thing?"
"Still true."
"Your nickname for it is 'Thing'" Castiel shook his head. He couldn't kill the little guy. He was small and green. And breathed fire...
Pae ran around desperately trying to put out the fire on his forelock.
Castiel pulled his hand down his face.
"Okay... I just want your gold so I can go home and find a damn cushion."
"Oh we don't have any gold."
Castiel almost fainted. "What?!"
"Well," Dean shrugged and pointed to where Res was sitting, "We have that, but everything else's gone."
"Just... Just them four coins."
"Yup."
"Why? How?" They weren't even big coins. It was a couple of pounds at the least.
"Well, Res can't get out much to raid villages... And tons of knights show up to take it to buy princess'. Not many pass out though."
"I was asleep!"
"...Sure"
"I have more than that in my pouch!" Castiel pulled out his small leather bag from under his breast plate. You may be wondering how it was possible for him to ride a horse with all of that on. The High Counsel of Knights and Stuff (HCKS) had decided, after three knights were rendered useless in intercourse by their 'fun parts' being deprived of blood, that they would invest in simple chain mail on the outside of the legs. It was a lot more comfortable, and to stab said 'fun parts' you would have to mount to horse's head or stride up to the person on the horse and lean over his leg and then stab him.
He looked in his pouch and found he had six pounds. If he put everything all together he would return with ten pounds.
How much did princess' cost?
"Eh, you're welcome to it. Just, maybe, discourage people coming up here?"
Castiel nodded. He shuffled over to the small mound of coins and picked them up. Res nuzzled his hand with a cat-like purr.
Some damn dragon.
After putting them in his punch, he turned to Dean.
"How did you end up here?"
The other man scrunched his nose up.
"My village sacrificed me instead of money."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Castiel struggled to his feet. Pae was sniffing around behind a stalagmite (Difference is, folks, G for Ground and C for Ceiling)
"Pae?" he called, bent over to try and relive some pain.
Res looked up at Castiel with big eyes from Pae's legs.
"C'mon, you stupid horse." He called again and Pae finally trotted over to him.
"Well, goodbye..." Dean stood next to Pae, stroking the horse' forelock (which was a bit singed)
Res clawed his way up Dean's already ragged clothing and perched on his shoulder.
"Bye. Good luck with the raiding."
Res drew himself up and belched out a jet of fire. Slowly it died, until he was left with a trail of smoke. The tiny dragon gasped for breath, accidently inhaling the smoke still drifting around.
Choking, he fell backwards off Dean's shoulder, who looked up at Castiel with an unamused expression.
"Bye." Castiel waved again and they trotted off out of the cave, to return to the king with ten pounds.
XXXxxxXXX
As Dean and Res watched them retreat down the steep mountain, Dean laughed.
"I swear to Valde, they get dumber every time." He smirked, walking back into the cave, pulling several sacks of money out from behind various stalagmites and stalactites.
The small dragon followed his master around the cave, arching his back and stretching three foot, reptilian wings.
"Although, Etcendunt Praecedentia Consequentibus Sedparva (Badass But Small)" the dragon gave a small, good-natured snarl, butting his head against Dean's legs "You really overdid it on the 'I'm a small dragon who doesn't want to hurt anyone' front."
Etcendunt Praecedentia Consequentibus Sedparva released a five-foot long white hot stream of flame at Dean's legs, who simply laughed and stepped out the way.
I have no idea. None. Zilch. Nada. Non.
Latin is thanks to Google Translate.
Paenitere is regret.
Res is thing.
Non Magna Haec Res is Not Very Big Thing.
Valde was... I've forgotten.
Etcendeunt Praecedntia Consequentibus Sedparva means Badass but Small.
I know it long (and crappy, did I mention the crappiness?) And not romantic. They met. It's an AU.
But dragons.
Fez.
