Work Text:
“Honestly,” Cimorene huffed, climbing down from the kitchen step-stool and pushing her hair back from her face. “This is the third pot dented just like this. How—“
She turned at the sound of a snorting, choking laugh as Kazul slid into the kitchen cave. “That was Sariana, one of my last princesses,” she explained. “Is there anything for tea?”
“There would be,” Cimorene said pointedly, “if I hadn’t spent the entire afternoon trying to find pots and pans that aren’t too dented to hold water.”
“Something cold will do,” Kazul smacked her lips and curled up out of the way, her scales grating against each other. “Sariana was a pretty young thing, but so shy she invariably hid from her suitors. Every time her parents invited a prince to come calling, it turned into a week-long search for their princess only to find she’d wedged herself behind a bookshelf in the third library behind the vanishing second door, that sort of thing. Why her parents thought that arranging for her to be carried off by me would do anything good for the poor girl’s constitution…well, kings and queens, you know as well as I how foolish they can be where their own interests are concerned.”
Cimorene nodded sagely, not looking up from slathering mayonnaise on a dragon-sized cucumber sandwich.
“Well, the girl and I got on well enough, all things considered,” Kazul rumbled after a minute.
“She wasn’t terrified of you?” Cimorene served Kazul her sandwich and a bucket of gunpowder green tea.
“No,” the dragon swung her enormous head from side to side, minding her horns didn’t hit the overhead light. “She grew rather fond of me, truth be told. No, she was shy around other humans, but I didn’t scare her, poor thing, it was the knights and princes. Every time she heard one of them calling for her, she’d drop what she was holding and run. She took to hiding in that wardrobe of yours, you know the one, it was always very obliging and kept her hidden until they’d gone away again.”
Cimorene frowned. “So was she ever rescued?”
Kazul shrugged one massive shoulder, lifting her sandwich daintily in two claws before swallowing it whole. “In a manner of speaking. After she’d thoroughly dented all of my cookware and was starting in on my more valuable ornaments, I had to send her away. Dinner was always burned and she smashed my favorite vase and I could never find her to clean my scales, it simply wasn’t working for either of us.”
Cimorene gave Kazul a stern look. “So you sent her back to live with people who wanted to marry her off against her will?”
“No, no, princess, let me finish my story. I put word out that I was looking for a new position for a girl who liked peace and quiet and within a week, Morwen brought me a clipping from the Enchanted Forest Daily Chronicle. She works in the palace, now, in the royal menagerie. It’s a respectable position and the king of the Enchanted Forest has granted her immunity from ever having to marry anyone.”
Cimorene took a bite of her own sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “Well, that was very good of you,” she said.
“Yes,” Kazul grinned, baring her teeth, “it was.”
—
“I’m in here!” Cimorene called from the second treasure cave.
Kazul snaked her head around the corner and nodded when she saw her. “Very good. I’m off to the vanishing mountain, I shall return before dinner tomorrow.”
Cimorene came out into the hallway, dusting her hands on her skirts before reaching up to pat Kazul’s neck. “Fly safely,” she said, smiling when the dragon rolled her eyes, swinging her neck around to come face-to-face with Cimorene.
“You know,” the dragon said, her voice rumbling deeper than usual, “I survived many years without having a princess to nag at me to be careful. This human habit of yours to hover and worry is very bothersome.”
Cimorene rubbed at the scaly ridge over Kazul’s left eye. “I’ll take it under consideration. Oh, speaking of princesses, is it possible that one of yours ever practiced magic? Before me, I mean?”
Kazul snorted explosively and Cimorene skipped back, tossing a pinch of feverfew and reciting the fireproofing spell. “In a manner of speaking,” Kazul said. “Why?”
“Oh.” Cimorene blinked, and glanced over her shoulder, back into the treasure room. “I’ve just been finding odd spell ingredients all over the caves, kind of hidden away in, well, dragon-proof places.”
Kazul’s eyes sparked and the smoke trickling from her nostrils did not abate. Cimorene spared a moment to be grateful that, whatever Kazul thought about magic-wielding princesses, she and Alianora had discovered the fireproofing spell. “Yes. That was Calandra. She was…well. That story shall have to wait until I return. Ballimore is expecting me and if you ever want me to be allowed to borrow her cauldron of plenty again, I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
Cimorene rather suspected that Kazul was making more of the importance of punctuality than necessary for the sake of calming herself before telling a story that she found clearly upsetting, so she simply patted her again and waved farewell, and when Kazul returned next night she had a handsome roast lamb dressed just the way Kazul liked it, and a tub of cherries jubilee.
“So, princess, tell me. What are these spell ingredients you’ve been finding tucked away?”
Cimorene smiled faintly and led Kazul to the library. Spread out on one of the sturdy tables were all the little pots, jars and pouches she’d been collecting, along with a stack of parchment that seemed to be written in some kind of code. Perching on one of the armchairs, Cimorene listened as Kazul told her about Calandra — a powerful sorceress who’d posed as a princess and allowed herself to be carried off when Kazul raided her city years ago.
“But why?” Cimorene asked.
“All dragons carry powerful magic within them. You know the power of a dragon’s scale, but have you considered what one might do with a dragon’s blood or bone?”
Cimorene shuddered. “She was going to…harvest your magic bits? How horrible!”
“Exactly,” Kazul nodded grimly. “I figured out she wasn’t who she said she was quickly enough, and luckily for her I decided to ask questions before simply eating her. As it turned out, her brother had been kidnapped by the Society of Wizards and they were holding him for ransom. They’d return him once she got them what he needed.”
“That sounds like Zemenar,” Cimorene said darkly.
“Oh, this was well before Zemenar’s time,” Kazul waved a hand. “His great-great-grand-uncle, if memory serves. He was worse than Zemenar, if you can believe it.” Kazul picked up the stack of papers and looked them over carefully until her expression suddenly cleared, then relaxed into a toothy grin. “But come here, princess, I’d forgotten about this.” Kazul traced over one of the pieces of parchment with a delicate claw. “When Roxim and I helped her recover her brother, in gratitude she made me this. You might recognize it.”
“Is that…is that a plan for the enchanted wardrobe in my room?”
“It is. Calandra seemed to think it was a kind of joke. She was quite clever, in a very human kind of way. She would have made a good princess for me, I see that now,” Kazul added, turning a speculative eye on Cimorene. “But at the time I thought it simply couldn’t be done; she could not be my princess for she was not a princess, but she left me with a gift for all my future princesses; a wardrobe to provide them with the clothes to fit the part.”
Cimorene nodded slowly. “There’s a certain kind of irony there, I suppose. She would have gotten on well with Morwen, I think.”
“Yes,” Kazul nodded. “And speaking of Morwen, perhaps I’d better have her up here to go through all this with you. I don’t doubt some of it will be useful for something-or-other, if only warding off scale rot, but I’d be even less surprised to learn that there were dangerous things in here and it’d be best to know what’s what before we put it all away. Yes, I’ll call on her as soon as may be and see if she can’t come up some afternoon.”
That decided, Cimorene turned out the light in the library and went to clean up from dinner.
—
“And this one,” Cimorene handed over a small, leatherbound journal, “is in a language I don’t even recognize. Did you find it somewhere?”
Kazul handled it delicately, turning its old, cracked pages with reverent claws. “Ah,” she sighed, her eyes turning misty. “This belonged to Melanie, my first princess.”
Cimorene’s eyebrows shot up. “Your very first?”
“My very first.” Kazul closed the book and engulfed it in her paw. “I was scarcely more than a hatchling. I didn’t even have my horns yet.” Kazul peered down at Cimorene. “Did you know that I was not born in the Mountains of Morning?”
“No,” Cimorene said, settling herself on a rock, hoping to be told more.
Kazul’s tail snaked back and forth across the ground, her scales flashing in the late afternoon sun. “I hatched out in a place very far from here, very far indeed. The humans of that land were always at war and there were spoils to be had merely by flying out the front of one’s cave. That’s how I found Melanie, poor thing. I was out to steal a pig for my dinner and found her wandering alone. Her caravan had been beset my mercenaries and she’d escaped with her life and little else.”
Kazul sighed and shook her head slowly. “I was a hot-headed youngster who didn’t know any better so I snatched her up and carried her back to my cave and set her up as my princess. She was not entirely useless but she did rather prefer writing in that book to cooking or caring for me, though she did her best. In that time, in that land, being the captive of a dragon was considered quite honorable, not simply fashionable as it is here and now. She had a keen sense of her duty, to me and to her people, as the last of her bloodline. She used to tell me that she’d witnessed history and was the last alive to tell the tale, and so she was always writing in that book. Always so serious, the poor dear.
“I arranged for her to be rescued by the king of the adjoining country in hopes it would bring peace to both their nations, but he showed up a day early and it was a bungled affair. In any case, she left the book behind. I’d always meant to return it to her but it made for fascinating reading and, before I could make up my mind, the humans brought the war to us and we were driven out of those mountains. The last I heard those countries had destroyed each other, my little Melanie with them. I rather think this might be the sole surviving record of what used to be a peaceful and prosperous nation. I’m glad you found it, I think I shall translate it.”
Over the next several days, as often as not Kazul was to be found in the library, curled up at a sturdy table, painstakingly transcribing Melanie’s little journal. Cimorene offered to help but Kazul’s eyes glittered when she declined and Cimorene, though burning with curiosity, couldn’t bring herself to ask anything more about this first princess who’d touched Kazul’s young heart.
—
“Morwen,” Cimorene said, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
The witch had scarcely touched down in the clear space outside Kazul’s cave before Cimorene was pulling at her elbow.
Morwen dismounted and gave her a stern look, and a moment later Cimorene had the feeling that she was seeing in triplicate when two cats jumped off her broom and looked up at her, matching Morwen’s look exactly.
“You’re very lucky,” Morwen said, pushing her glasses up on her nose, “that I know you well enough to assume that something important must be going on, and not that you’ve taken leave of your senses. It’s very rude, you know, to speak to a witch before her cats have dismounted.”
Cimorene blinked and looked between the ginger female and the large gray tom. They blinked back in quick succession. “I didn’t know. I’m very sorry, Trouble and…Jasmine,” she said, crossing her fingers in her skirts and hoping she had the names right. When they only blinked again she added, “Welcome to Kazul’s cave, please make yourselves comfortable, there’s cream in the kitchen.”
The two cats glanced at each other and then at Morwen, who shooed them on, and they disappeared into the caves.
“I’m sorry, Morwen, it’s just that — well, I’ve found…I’m not sure what I’ve found and I didn’t like to ask Kazul about it.”
“It’s something other than the odd array of potions you’ve been unearthing, then,” Morwen said keenly, leaning her broom against the wall just inside the mouth of the cave.
“Yes,” Cimorene scooped up her lantern and led the way back through the caves and into the smallest treasure room. “I found them this morning and I just didn’t know what to think…”
Pulling back a tapestry, Cimorene revealed a row of broken and bloody lances tacked to the wall, each with a plaque beside it with a name carved into it in clumsy block lettering. Morwen hummed and leaned in to examine the first in the row, her nose inches from its bloody haft.
“They look like, well, what a knight or a prince would bring to a dragon fight,” Cimorene said hesitantly after a minute. “But why Kazul would keep them, like trophies, it just doesn’t seem…”
“They are trophies,” Morwen said, “but not Kazul’s.”
“Oh,” Cimorene said, vastly relieved. “The dragon who lived here before her?”
“No.” Morwen sounded grim, still peering closely at the names beside the trophies. “One of her last princesses.”
“One of her…what?”
Morwen nodded. “Yes. I believe the girl’s name was Griselda. She was…troubled. The more knights and princes Kazul defeated, the more obvious it became. She cheered on the bloody battles along with a whole circle of friends — other princesses and their intended rescuers. After the fifth,” Morwen pointed at the last lance, “Kazul asked my advice, and we were able to bring the matter to a suitable conclusion.”
Cimorene raised her eyebrows. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Never be afraid to ask anything,” Morwen said sharply. “Fear of a silly thing is one of the most useless character traits in modern society. How it’s made its way onto the princess curriculum is an unforgivable oversight. Griselda didn’t want to be married any more than you do. So we sent her to live with the Bridge Trolls. You’ve heard of their annual games, I imagine?”
Cimorene shuddered. “Yes, unfortunately. My father outlawed any travel to their valley during the games, people were getting bad ideas, he said.”
“Mm. Well, she is now the chief referee for their games, and the last I heard she was perfectly happy.”
Cimorene pulled the curtain on the bloody decorations, resolving to remove them as soon as possible. “Kazul has had odd luck with her princesses,” she mused as she walked the shorter woman back towards the kitchen for a cup of tea.
Morwen gave a firm nod of agreement, then looked at Cimorene with a rare, wide smile.
—
“Kazul, what on earth —“
“No,” Kazul growled, sweeping the whole mess out of Cimorene’s arms and onto the ground outside the cave. “No, for goodness sake, no more of these horrid hideous things in my cave!”
And with a roar like thunder she set it all alight. Two dozen needlework hoops — each with a different pastel-colored kitten stitched into its stretched fabric, all with nauseatingly sweet expressions on their improbably patterned faces — went up in flames.
“Not your favorite princess, I take it?” Cimorene asked mildly.
Kazul glared at her and stalked back into the cave, muttering darkly under her breath.
Cimorene stretched her hands towards the bonfire, enjoying the warmth against the chill night air.
—
“There,” Cimorene said in satisfaction, stepping down from her stool. “That should do it, Torchim.”
“Ah,” the older dragon stretched her wings and back, her muscles rippling and bunching under her freshly-shined scales. “Thank you, princess.”
“You’re welcome,” she said politely, looking to Kazul for further instruction.
“We’ll stay out here until the sun goes down,” Kazul told her, lowering her head so Cimorene could scratch behind her ear. “Then we’ll have dinner in the small dining room. I hope you like cherries jubilee, Torchim.”
When Cimorene had gone back into the caves, Kazul’s old friend looked speculatively at her. “You were right about her. I thought you were at least half-boasting but, Kazul, she’s a rare find.”
“The rarest,” Kazul said, trying not to sound too smug.
“I know what you say,” Torchim began, with the air of one testing the ground before committing weight to it, “that she does not intend to be rescued. That she looks on her…stay…here with you as a, ah, as a position of sorts, as a career, if I may speak fancifully.”
“You may,” Kazul narrowed her eyes, “but that is not fancy. That is precisely how she sees it.”
Torchim ducked her head. “Very well, then, very well. Mind you keep a close eye on her, then. It won’t be long until everyone’s wanting her.”
Kazul blew out a thin jet of flame and said flatly, “That’s as may be, but she’s mine.”
Torchim nodded sagely. “Ah, yes, and that’s as may be, Kazul, but you know the way of things with humans. She may be your princess, now. But she’s a fierce one, yes, that’s plain to see. She’s got a will to rival yours, Kazul, and she’s not knee-high to a hatchling. Can a human like that ever be yours, really? Can a human like that belong to anyone but herself?”
Kazul snorted again, but thoughtfully. The smoke from her nostrils rose up with the smoke from the cookfire, the smell of roasting lamb and baking cherries mingling in the night air. With her eyes half-lidded, Kazul rested her chin on her forepaws.
“She is mine, Torchim, and I will tell you why. She is my friend and my companion and she is my princess because for every thing that makes her mine…I am hers as well. I am her dragon, my friend, and that is simply the way of things.”
“And does she know this?” Torchim asked delicately, flexing her claws to examine their newly-shined gleam in the setting sun.
Kazul hummed, considering. Perhaps Cimorene did not know. Perhaps Kazul ought to tell her. Perhaps these things were important for humans to hear; despite her long experience with them, in many ways people were still a mystery to her. Perhaps she ought to go in, tell Cimorene now. Kazul pushed herself up, craning her neck to peer into the cave. It was dark, but from the kitchen she could hear Cimorene whistling. Her lips curled back from her teeth and she relaxed. She stretched out again, laying her head back down. She would tell her one day, and soon, but for now there was no rush. Cimorene knew.