The Dragon Bride

"Listen, dragon," began Princess Julia of the Kingdom of Vanarre. Her hands were on her hips, her right toe tapping. "This can't go on."

The Southern Dragon, bigger than a house and with a row of spear point spikes along his spine, looked bemused--as well he might. Julia often had that effect on people. Who else would open parley with a dragon by chiding him like a naughty puppy?

The dragon opened his mouth and sent a stream of flame to incinerate a nearby pine tree which flared like a torch before falling into powdery ash in the intensity of the maintained flame. The dragon blinked in a satisfied manner, then glanced sideways to see how Julia had taken the demonstration of power.

She brushed ash off her wine velvet skirt. "That was very thoughtless. This is a new dress." It laced tightly across her bosom, emphasizing her full figure. Julia was a big girl.

An odd rusty sound emerged from the dragon.

Julia tilted her head, listening to the crr-crr-crr, then stared directly into the dragon's sapphire eyes. "You're laughing at me," she accused.

"Yes." The dragon curled its tail comfortably around its body and settled in for the parley. "You have courage, princess, but not a great deal of common sense."

"Rubbish," said Julia robustly. She gave up on her ash ruined velvet skirt and sat down on a chunk of rock. "I'm the practical one of the family."

"Heaven help Vanarre, if that's true." The tip of the dragon's tail twitched like a cat's.

"Humph." Julia snorted, but when she thought of her scatterbrained mum, her romantically minded sisters, her sailing mad and currently lost brother, not to mention her daft but lovable dad...the dragon had a point.

No one had expected her dad to become king. He'd been a younger son and the whole family was content to exist in a crumbling drafty castle, interfering in village affairs and pursuing their odd hobbies. But the unexpected death of both the king and his son--their uncle and cousin--in a coaching accident had propelled the charming but impractical family willy-nilly into court life.

The then royal steward--who had known Julia's dad when he was a boy--had retired on the spot. The remaining members of the royal household went around looking confused, but lately Julia had seen signs that they were being seduced into the madness of her family.

Just the other day she had seen the Sewing Mistress making a vest for her sister Emily's half bald pet parrot. Jake the parrot had been Eric's last gift to the family--and he hadn't considered the language that old bird already knew. If Julia's dad ever wanted to swear at his stuffed shirt royal advisers he just borrowed Jake and let the bird talk. The advisers were soon cussed out of the chamber and Jake rewarded with his favourite treat of sultanas soaked in rum.

"Err-hmm." The Southern Dragon cleared his throat with a rumble like thunder.

"Oh, sorry." Julia often grew distracted when she thought of her family. Really it was Eric's responsibility to parley with the dragon, but Eric was off discovering the Farawy Islands and currently out of contact somewhere on the uncharted seas.

"You said you had a proposition for me," prompted the dragon.

"I do." Julia smoothed her ash specked skirt, rubbing the ash deeper into the velvet pile. "Vanarre really can't afford to have its silver trade closed. Your hijacking of the Waylin Mountains, and particularly, of Port Argen, is causing Dad's hair to fall out."

"Tsk," mocked the dragon.

"Of course, no one is starving--and I am grateful that you haven't eaten anyone--but we are all missing the silver trade. Without it we don't have the money to buy other goods, import goods, important things like coffee."

"Ah." Now the dragon understood. "Am I talking with a caffeine fiend?"

"Yes," said Julia grumpily.

"And without the money brought in by the silver trade, the coffee merchants are taking their goods elsewhere."

"Yes." A snarl.

"So, it's not altruism that brings you here, but addiction."

"No! I can live without coffee, if I have to, but the loss of the silver trade has thrown thousands of people out of work--miners, traders, silversmiths--and that's flowed on to depress other sectors of the economy."

"You sound like a political adviser," said the dragon. He didn't sound pleased.

"Well," conceded Julia. "That is what Dad's royal advisers are saying, but it is commonsense. Vanarre has always been a happy country and we can't just sit around and let you ruin it."

The Southern Dragon huffed, sending the heap of white ash spiraling into the air. "Don't ever join the Diplomatic Corps. I don't think Vanarre can cope with a dragon and a war. Cut the cackle and tell me your proposition."

"Well, the way I see it, you're not guarding the Waylin Mountains because you need silver--everyone knows it's gold dragons love--so you must be hijacking our silver trade so that we have to ransom it from you. The question then is what do we have that a dragon could want. It can't be gold since it's untarnishing silver that Vanarre is famous for. Clearly you don't eat people or livestock."

"I make do with fishing," interjected the dragon. "A giant squid is a splendid meal; tentacles like spaghetti."

Julia shuddered at the thought, but ploughed onward. "So, that leaves only a princess."