I have heard stories about the Fire Dragon King told by those lucky enough to see him and live.

They say his eyes are the color of rubies, and hair is as dark as the night. The white of his skin is covered in black tattoos from head to toe. The tattoos, too, tell stories - stories of his power and the power he holds over his people.

It is said the Dragon men use markings to show how powerful they are, the more they possess, the more they are feared. So, if you see a Dragon with a tattoo only around his finger, he is weak, but if his entire body is covered in them, you are most likely going to die in battle fighting him.

They say they use such markings not just to show off their status but also to seduce women of their culture, who know very well what the markings mean. Some say the Dragon King shows his off only for the women rather than the status.

I think about him and the Dragons as the maids scurry around, helping me bathe, fix my hair, and dress me. I am not used to such treatments, and I find myself recoiling from their touches.

There is no physical touch in the tower, and baths are only once a year – a bucket of water and a sponge. Help does not exist either; washing is done by oneself. There is also my struggle with such things as dressing.

Sometimes I wear my dresses backward or wrong. The guards and maids always let me know, but it doesn’t matter as they are the only ones who come to see me.

They are cruel to me.

The guards sometimes messily throw my food to the ground, and the contents of the tray litter the floor. I barely will get a chance to sip the soup, most of it spilling out. The maids ignore me; I am nonexistent to their eyes.

The ever so lukewarm water feels good as I bathe, and the bathwater smells of roses which reminds me of my mother.

I vaguely remember the scent as my mother loved those flowers when she was alive. Roses are considered a luxury here where it snows most of the time. We barely have a spring or summer where flowers have enough warmth to blossom or grow.

Currently, it is winter, it being one of the warmest we have had in a long time. Usually, the winter’s air is brutal and enough to kill any animals outside, but they are out today. It is definitely warm enough.

I wonder if perhaps our lands are beginning to change ever so slowly, or this has something to do with the Fire Dragons preparing for their war against us.

By the time the maids are finished and have pulled my hair up into a tight bun, I am a different person. I feel fresher and clean, and they’ve trimmed my hair, leaving me lighter.

My hair has always been long. I believe it is to my waist and all of it, they have somehow placed on top of my head.

It is time for the final touches, so they wrap something around my eyes that feels like silk. It is most likely to hide my eyes away from the Dragon King and the others in the palace. They rub something on my lips, which feels smooth, and I wonder what it is.

It smells of something sweet, and I am tempted to lick my lips, but I don’t let myself. Something tells me it is for decoration rather than tasting, else they would have told me to taste it.

But decoration means nothing to me.

Once the maids escort me out of the room, they place something around my shoulders. It feels heavy, and they take one arm each before slipping it into the sleeve.

Not only is it heavy, but it’s also warm. The slight chill I had in my bones fades with whatever they have slipped over me.

“This way, Princess Vrai,” one of the maids says as they guide me by my arm through the palace.

Princess Vrai…

When was the last time I heard that term?

It’s been a while.

Even from the start, not many addressed me by that name. I am just a bastard child, but my father had loved mother... I heard rumors she is the only woman he has ever loved, even now.

When my mother was alive, he would often visit, but he was a different man back then. I used to hear him laugh, and I could imagine he was always smiling.

My mother used to tell me that when an Ice Mage loved someone, they only loved once and never again, not truly. When my mother died, he also died with her that day, making him a real Ice King.

We were cursed. Our hearts grew as cold as the Dragon named Kari when we lost that love. We inherited the curse from our ancestors, from when they consumed his flesh. I always believed it’s true, especially with my father.

As I walk through the halls and travel downstairs again, I hear scurrying of what sounds like panicked feet. Women’s heels, men’s boots, stricken and fast breathing, along with whispers and mutters.

“He’s here!” A woman screams from the bottom of the stairs. “You have to hurry!”

The maid grips my arm too tightly and questions nervously, “The Dragon King…? Already?”

“Yes, now hurry! The King is already outside with the other Princesses,” the woman snaps.

The maid quickens her steps down the stairs, and I nearly trip, but I grab the railing. I want to beg her to go slow for my safety, but I doubt she will listen to me in her state of panic. Also, to her, I am not truly a Princess.

After catching the rails, she tugs me further down the stairs, and when I reach the bottom, I am relieved to be on flat ground.

She pulls me forward, not stopping or giving me a moment to rest. I need to sit down.

Please, I wish to sit…slow down. I am begging her in my thoughts.

They are scared. I am more so – I am to be thrown to the King, not they.

“Sorry, Princess Vrai, but we must hurry.” We continue to move forward as we slip outdoors. The wind blows against my face.

“I don’t understand why it is so important that I must be there. I’m only a bastard and not even loved by my father as my sisters are,” I mutter to the maid, whom I probably won’t see after this.

“I think that is why, if I may speak frankly, Princess.” She grows quiet afterward.

Ah, I see. The reason why my father is so adamant about this is that I am the least loved, and he is secretly hoping I will be picked by the Dragon King, whom I’ve heard so many unpleasant things about.

He is a lustful woman lover, hateful, hotheaded, and temperamental. Some say even the weather can affect his mood for the day. He sounds like he is a very unpleasant man overall. A man that I do not wish to meet.

I don’t say anything more, and I hear people talking at a distance as we draw closer to our destination. A chill runs up my spine as I feel very strong magic, a feeling that I’ve never experienced before.

I stop in my tracks; the more I feel these strange presences, the more I feel I am in danger.

I faintly see something within the darkness of my eyes. I see the shape of a beast again, but this one is different. It is larger and meaner looking.

I do not need to feel his magic long to know it is the King, this being his Dragon.

The thing has piercing eyes, another color I have yet to see, but perhaps they are red as people have rumored. The color of his body is dark, perhaps the same midnight black people spoke of when it came to the King’s hair. The beast’s tail is long and spiked, the ends deadlier than any soldier’s sword. If I have to guess, his scales are smooth and shiny.

It bares its teeth at me almost immediately, knowing it has been seen. The beast charges at me, mouth open, and I prepare for an actual attack. But before it can reach me it bursts into tiny particles.

The vision is over, and I am dazed by it. It felt real. How is it not?

The maid’s voice calling out to me is background noise. “Vrai! Vrai! Princess, please move! We must hurry, or I will be in trouble.”

I snap back to reality as the cold breeze blows against my body, the winter air nipping at it. “Sorry...” I begin to move forward to their suffocating presences. It is then I realize there is more than one Dragon; I see them in my head.

Each of them is unique, but they only show themselves quickly before slinking back into the darkness. They, unlike the Dragon which charged at me, are unaware I have stolen glances of their true and monstrous forms.

Perhaps I am able to see these beasts due to their magic. As a child, I was always able to sense magic in a person, even seeing different colors in my head if I concentrated enough. It looked like smoke, a distinct color from darkness, and they were also in the shape of a person.

My father’s color is bright – just like my mother’s when she was alive. They have always been different from the others I’ve seen.

Just beyond me are three similar colors that resemble my father’s stand in a row. They are probably my sisters. I never really got to meet my other siblings even though I know I have them. It is true, even if we’d met on official terms, they would have never acknowledged me.

Once I’m standing next to these three presences, I am still. The maid lets go of my arm before scurrying off. “Good luck,” she whispers to me, then I hear her feet quickly retreating.

“You’re late.” My father’s voice is gruff.

“I know,” is all I can mutter. There isn’t anything else to say.

There is a short silence before I hear a rumbling snicker coming from a distance. I hear a man speak; his voice is as deep as his laugh “So, this is what you have to offer me? Four skinny and feeble women... one seems to be blind.”

Ah, this is the Dragon King. He has taken the form of a man.