A young man sits in his palace
Strong, proud, and dark.
He will rule soon o’er all the lands.
But now and here
He must choose a bride.
His father wills that he would wed
From far off.
The advisers wish he would
Choose one of their daughters.
But he cares not for that.
For nearby there lives
A pretty orphan heiress
With beauty greater than the mountains
‘Round about his home.
But her beauty is nothing to him
For she is as dangerous
As lovely.
Though barely of age
She guides her servants
With wisdom and strength
Her gentleness belies
Every core of the land.
Despite her stepmother’s strong hand
She flourishes.
She cannot be left alone.
So a ball is arranged
For all the ladies of the land.
A girl from far off,
To please his father.
The highborn butterflies
For the sake of the advisers.
And her.
She stands strong and proud
A dress of blue and purple
Like the sky and clouds
Only accentuates her charm.
Her neckline is made of winged creatures
Not butterflies, but dragons
Beautiful, but deadly.
The act of loving her was easy
Too easy.
The prince almost frowns as they twirl
Like birds in an endless dance.
As they steal away together,
He is almost gentle
As he returns her clutch
To her white, slender hand.
Does her spell
Cast a blight on his mind?
As midnight approaches
She dashes away
Leaving behind naught but a slipper
Even as he touches it
He feels her magic coursing
Through his veins.
He cannot fight it
He must find her.
She will be his.
As he rides to her home
Dragons flit around his head.
They settle on slender boughs
Examining his spell-covered eyes
With their own slanted ones.
They are tiny, the deadly pests,
But they are beautiful.
Dark blues, golden hues
Blood red, green as the hills.
Everywhere he turns,
There is the fatal beauty
Of the charming girl.
None but the stepmother
Answers the door
Claiming the girl is not there.
But he breaks past,
Rebuking her strongly.
But as he happens to pass
A clear voice
Strong and enchanting.
At the head of the stairs
Stands a dragon
Taller than he
With scales of shimmering blue.
Her wings are furled ‘round her.
And she descends in gracious glory.
There was no fairy godmother
No magic spell.
For the devious stepmother
Had enslaved a dragon
Of the highest order.
She could not flee
Nor could she retaliate
But she used her superior charm
And deadly beauty
To spread word of her capture.
Finally the prince had rescued her
By his cold invitation.
And now she was clothed
In her former glory.
And now the dark prince
Has wed his deadly, yet gentle bride.
And so their tale was cloaked
In gentleness and prosperity
The dark prince and his dragon bride.
