"Once upon a time, there was a dragon, red like the one in our flag, with scales that gleamed like rubies when the sun shone. Awoken by the miners from the mountains up above, she roamed the valleys of Glamorgan, where your mother's family lived. Your mother's brothers hunted down this dragon and locked her in a deep dungeon, which they later threw me in, because her family didn't like me."
Geraint Prewett looked into the eyes of his three young children, cuddled up against each other on the sofa across the fireplace.
"What did you do with the dragon, daddy?" the eldest boy asked. "Did you kill it?" He saw the younger boy, the youngest of the family, shrink behind a cushion in fear.
Geraint poked at the fireplace with a poker, releasing a few dramatic sparks in the air. A slow smile crept into his face. "No," he began. "I saved the dragon, the dragon saved your mum, and your mum saved me."
...
[1945]
"Hellooooo nurse, I think I have a bit of a pain in the lower region. Mind having a look down there?"
Rhiannon Gower looked up from her clipboard, fixing a hard glare on the soldier. "I'm a medic, and no, I will not look at your crotch." She moved onto the next patient, a youth barely come of age, with his limbs bandaged up most pitifully.
"What's up, doc?" the collection of bandages uttered, attempting to break into a half grin.
Rhiannon picked up the clipboard at this patient's foot. "Geraint Prewett," she said. "Welsh?" she said.
"Aye, from the Wye Valley."
"You don't look nearly old enough. Why did you join the Forces?"
"Sister, I was a poet but they've got no use for poets in war."
Rhiannon seemed to have no patience for chitchat. "How long have you been out there?"
"Not long, just two weeks in. Doubt I've had the time to get shell-shocked but have you seen what goes on in the trenches?" Geraint's face contorted into an expression of wide-eyed horror.
"I've been a medic here for months."
That was the extent of Geraint Prewett's stint on the western front, for he was soon after sent back to old blighty. A short while after, Grindelwald announced surrender.
Geraint recovered well enough, much better than all the others who saw more death and devastation, better than those with images seared forever in their mind they would never recover from. He was not a violent man for the most part and would never have thrived in battle. Who knows what state he might have ended up in had he stuck around for more? But with what he saw from his brief two weeks the words ran dry in him and he had to make a living some other way. He had also kept in contact with the pretty medic from the war and she mentioned that she might know someone who was looking for a groundskeeper.
He went for the job, and then found that the pretty medic was the only daughter of a well-known family and that he would be working on the grounds of her family castle.
He had some qualms about the arrangement but just as soon came to ignore it as he began a secret love affair with Rhiannon Gower. This went on for several years without much in the way.
However, it came to pass that her family decided it was high time they married her off to a suitable man, who was strategically chosen, by her three brothers and her grandmother and her mother, for his family fortune. All the old families were on a downward spiral, financially speaking, and all were scampering to trade high birth for wealthy connections.
This man was to arrive on invitation of the family, who were looking to put forth their daughter as a suitable wife. There was no expense spared in the preparation for his arrival, and the highlight of the trip was to be a dragon hunt, followed by a hunt ball and so on.
Rhiannon, who had absolutely no intention of marrying a stranger, much less a stranger who, by all accounts, was the opposite of what she looked for in a partner, naturally reacted with stubbornness and was uncooperative.
She told Geraint that she had decided to elope with him before her hand was promised to another. Geraint, seized by a sudden bout of rationality, tried to argue that theirs was an affair that was not built to last, and if she should change her mind about the stranger he would quietly resign and go away. Rhiannon grew annoyed, and said she would never let him get away with breaking her heart, so he should really get packing and ready to leave at any moment.
As is the beloved sport of the ruling class, as old George had done all those years ago, dragon hunting was the ultimate show of sporting prowess and noblesse oblige, as wizards and witches dressed for the field and set off on flying horses, armed with enchanted weapons to slay the monstrous, ugly beasts and protect the Muggles and peasantry from harm.
A few issues beg consideration here. Dragons were all too content to keep to their mountains in undisturbed slumber, but recent mining activity woke them and forced them out of their homes. The proceeds of the mining only served to enrich the already rich, and their growing display of affluence only served to bait the dragons into fury. In turn the rich and privileged turned to dragon hunting for sport, which only entrenched their privileged position as they began to call themselves heroes and protectors.
On this occasion, with much for show, a magnificent dragon was captured in the hunt and beat into submission. She had all the markings of a Welsh Green, save that she had a rare genetic quirk that meant she was born red.
This dragon was imprisoned in the castle dungeons while the family began celebrations in honour of the invited guest. In addition, a nest of gleaming, golden dragon eggs were found, and these were polished and set on the dining table as the perfect centrepiece. Over dinner, Rhiannon could no longer stand being talked about as if she were property to be handed off after a successful contract negotiation and abruptly declared that she had no intention of marrying one she did not choose.
Her brothers began to talk over her, assuring the guest that she was probably in a silly mood, because that's how women are, they never mean what they say, and Rhiannon grew so incensed with rage she stood up at the table, accidentally kicking into it and tipping the soup tureen over. The dragon eggs wobbled from the shock, and began rolling to the edge of the table. Sensing danger, Rhiannon swiftly dove to collect them before they fell off. Hot soup began to seep into the tablecloth and down onto various laps, prompting a few restrained howls of pain. Rhiannon declared that all this while she had been having an affair with the groundskeeper, whom she had every intention to marry tonight after elopement.
"My dear sister," her eldest brother said. "Your faculties must be impaired because you have just ruined any chance of your escape."
Another brother smirked. "Arrest the groundskeeper, and throw him into the dungeon with the dragon," he ordered.
Rhiannon withdrew her wand and prepared to duel with her brother but found herself unexpectedly disarmed by her mother.
"You have been most unladylike," her mother began. "You have done nothing but inconvenienced our guest and you have put forth a most unattractive disposition. Go now, to your room, before you further embarrass yourself."
"Fine," she said. "I will go to my room. I will go to my room and prepare to leave this house forever. I will be gone before the night is up, you mark my words!"
She stormed up into her room, but as she slammed the room door shut behind her she saw a burst of deep purple light at its seams and realised she had been locked in by one of her family.
She quickly ran to the window before it could be locked by enchantment, but her second brother flew past on a broom and he hit her with a stunning spell and shut the window on her.
She fell back onto her bed, refusing to be defeated, and tried to pull her thoughts together in order to hatch an escape plan. Hatch...she thought, suddenly remembering that wedged in the crook of her arm were two golden dragon eggs. She stared at the eggs, wondering how the dragonlings inside were coming along. If they were due to hatch now, she thought, she could have them burn through the door or even the wrought iron windows and she could make a run for it.
After several minutes of staring, she decided that the eggs weren't going to hatch after all, and went about packing a suitcase of her favorite things.
...
For no comprehensible reason he had been seized and he now found himself being dragged to the dungeons. The dungeons were dark and damp and he could barely see a thing, much less his captors.
There was an unlocking, and he was brusquely thrown to the ground before the captors quickly slammed the gate shut and dashed away as if running for their lives.
Warning bells began to sound in his head. There must be something mightily unpleasant down here, he concluded. He looked around and saw slivers of moonlight shine through a vent. He moved towards the light, hoping it would help him see. He barely took one step before he tripped and fell over a hard boulder. He felt around for the boulder to steady himself, and found that the boulder had these strange ridges that felt like scales and then it dawned upon him—he had been shut in with the dragon they caught earlier today.
When he looked up he saw the glint of a giant eye, large as a dinner plate. Even in the sparse light the eyes shone like yellow sapphires.
"I'm sorry!" Geraint exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean to trip over you."
The dragon seemed unimpressed and snorted dismissively.
"I'm so sorry," Geraint said again. He then sat down on the spot, but found he had lowered himself into a puddle of indeterminate liquid.
The dragon continued snorting in a supercilious manner.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Geraint began talking. "I'm sorry you don't like me much, but I'm stuck with you for now, unless you decide to eat me." He belatedly realised his error and began to laugh nervously. "But you don't intend to eat me, do you?"
The dragon made no reply.
"Aww," Geraint began to coo. "You're not in pain are you?" Unthinkingly, he reached out to pat the dragon in a comforting gesture.
At his touch, the dragon recoiled and began to cough in a hacking manner.
"Oh no," Geraint began to fret. "Are you alright, love?" He patted the dragon ever more fervently.
The dragon began to make a whining sound.
"Oh dear, oh deary me," Geraint babbled uselessly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
The dragon bobbed its large reptilian head.
"You understand me!" Geraint exclaimed, upon which the dragon seemed to shake its head.
"Is there anything I can do?" Geraint pressed. The dragon bobbed its head up and down.
"Yes? Yes?" Geraint nodded enthusiastically.
The dragon bobbed its head up and down more vigorously this time. Confused, Geraint moved closer to see if there was anything he could do. When he stood in front of the dragon, he felt a damp gust of cold air.
He pondered for a while. It seemed to him that dragons, who could breathe fire from the nostrils, would not produce damp and cold air. He tried to look up the dragon's nostril. The dragon responded by turning up her nostril for a better angle, so Geraint stuck his head inside.
His hands reached up into a damp, spongy texture, which he began to feel around. He then realised that Everwetting Sponges had been stuffed up the dragon's nostrils to keep her from breathing fire. Maybe the dragon had been snorting in discomfort after all!
With a firm grasp, he tried to dislodge the sponge. He heaved and yanked and finally it came out with a pop. He gave the dragon a triumphant grin, holding the Everwetting Sponge out for her to see. The dragon rolled her head around so that he could work on the other nostril, and he dove in for the second extraction.
When he was done, the dragon gave a huge sneeze, which splattered Geraint with large droplets of water, and then she sneezed again, a drier sneeze this time around, with a lick of flame darting out of her nostril, enough to singe Geraint's flame-coloured hair.
He drew back instinctively, and was about to propose an escape plan when the dragon breathed into the vent, and then flapped her large, leathery wings, which were still bound by chains.
"All right, all right," Geraint huffed, and then went about trying to loosen the chains. Before he could even get the chains properly off, the dragon blew a hole into the ceiling and flew upwards with such a force that the chains were pulled from the dungeon walls. With another huge flap of the wings, the dragon took off far beyond him, and Geraint realised too late that he should have hitched a ride out, because the dungeon was too deep for him to climb out and the escape hole was in the ceiling.
...
Her bags packed, Rhiannon went back to devising her escape plan. She lay on her bed above the covers, still in her evening dress, with her hands folded tightly across her chest.
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound and she felt the foundations of the castle beginning to give way. This was her opportunity! She leapt out of bed and grabbed her suitcase. She looked at her doorframe, and with another crash it went askew and the door popped off its hinges. She swung the door open, only to be faced with her eldest brother, so she swung a fist in his face and grabbed his wand. She ran down the hall, surrounded by cries that the dragon had gone loose.
The dragon! She thought. Her first conclusion was that somehow Geraint had found a way to break out of the dungeons and he was probably riding atop her, hair blowing suavely in the wind. She ran to the nearest window, and with a blast from her wand she sent out a signal to catch the dragon's eye.
The dragon was swooping around the castle, burning turrets into the ground. The chains that had bound her were now flailing around loosely, thrashing into the castle walls and causing much damage. It seemed the dragon was not content to simply leave, but was intent on exacting revenge.
Or was it? Rhiannon remembered the unhatched eggs that were still sitting on her bed. The dragon wasn't trying to wreak senseless destruction, she must have been looking for her eggs!
She dashed back towards her room. At the doorway her brother, who was just coming to, reached out and tried to trip her, but she deftly leapt to avoid his outstretched arm and decided to give him a kick for good measure.
She scooped up the eggs, but the ceiling was crumbling all around her and if the eggs were to get broken, Lord knows how the dragon would react. Rhiannon looked down at her suitcase. If she could fit the eggs inside they would be safe for now...
But her suitcase was full. Never mind, she thought, and flung it open and began dumping its contents. Her beautifully crafted robes were thrown to the floor, and her favourite books, and the rest of her belongings until she came to her precious violin, which was in a case of its own. She took the violin case out and the suitcase was now empty. She put the eggs inside and closed it and, with her violin case in the other hand, got up and left the room.
She rushed down the stairs until she hit her next obstacle, her third brother, who shot a spell at her. She raised her suitcase—then stopped herself—and raised her violin case to deflect the blow. The violin case shattered and her violin, an incredibly rare piece of art handmade by-oh hell, she thought. It's gone now. Finished. Best not dwell.
She got to the ground floor and out of the castle and opened the suitcase to show the dragon that her eggs were safe.
The dragon began to swoop down for her eggs, and it was then Rhiannon noticed that Geraint was not heroically riding atop her like she had imagined. The dragon had reached the ground and was about to collect her eggs...
And then Rhiannon slammed the suitcase shut, staring straight at the dragon.
"Where is he?" she asked in a steady tone. She could feel the heat from the dragon's breath slam into her.
The dragon stared back at her.
"Take me to him," Rhiannon demanded. "And then I will let you have your eggs."
The dragon huffed, possibly out of indignation, and then lowered itself. Rhiannon mounted in one swift motion, taking the suitcase with her, and then they were off.
It wasn't a very long journey as the dragon merely dipped back into the dungeon, where Rhiannon found her lover sitting dejectedly, head propped up by one hand. He also looked to be covered in snot and his lovely hair seemed singed.
"Hop on," Rhiannon commanded imperiously.
At her voice, Geraint looked up with an expression of such joy she broke into a grin herself.
"You saved me!" Geraint simpered, clambering on behind her and burying his head into her hair. "And you too!" he said to the dragon, with a little pat.
The dragon snorted and hurtled into the sky, dodging the beams of spells cast to hinder her escape.
Far below them, Rhiannon's grandmother was screeching ferociously. "Curses!" she yelled. "Curses!" They began to laugh, for they believed themselves safe now, but then they heard her words.
"A curse upon your heads!" she continued. "A curse is upon you, for you have defied the wishes of your family to seek the one you love. For this freedom you enjoy was not yours to have and for this reason you steal from your children. May your offspring never possess the freedom you had. May your sons and daughters never marry the one they truly love..."