A Princess By Any Other Name

Inside the damp cave she can hear the dragon move. She holds her breath and closes her eyes against the tears. Her skin is sweaty from fear. She has never been this close to anything so big and deadly, and her body reacts instinctively. Please don’t let the dragon smell the fear, she prays as she slowly changes her position against the cold stone wall.

Why did she ever agree to this? Maybe because it wouldn't have made much difference either way. She is a commoner, a working girl. And what is the life of a poor girl compared to the life of a princess? While Princess Layla lies dying on her golden bed, safely behind the palace walls, the imposter has taken her place ... and her curse.

Violet tries to move again. If she can just get to the opening without the dragon noticing, she could flee into the woods. She could hide out in the thick of the trees, live on wild berries and roots. No-one would look for her. They'll all assume she is dead, that she'd been ripped apart and consumed as the dragon's meal. She could disappear. Change her name and never return.

But then the thought of him returns to her mind.

Why did she talk to him that day on the castle's steps? She was supposed to just lie low, engage with no-one, go along with the lie whilst awaiting for her fate. Why did she have to look into those eyes and fall so hard? Why did she go out to meet him in the garden after sunset, and allowed him to draw her into his arms?

By now he will know the truth, like everyone else. That she is neither a princess nor a noblewoman, but just a substitute. A person of no importance. By now he would have dismissed her from his thoughts, discarded her like a bone from his plate.

Violet’s tale had been destined for a tragic end right from the beginning. Eaten by a dragon in a dark cave wouldn't be much different from the way her life had started twenty-two years ago, when her mother left her on the steps of the orphanage in Leville. When Violet was old enough to carry a bucket of water, she was adopted by a poor couple who needed a slave but could not afford one. For years she worked for them, day and night, without the hope of being rescued. Until, one day, she caught the eye of Queen Macaby. The monarch had a sickly daughter of about the same age. Princess Layla had been frail from birth and was constantly ill, and so her parents kept her locked up inside the castle. The princess was in need of a playmate, and so Violet was sold to the queen for a large number of silver coins, and went to live in the castle as the girl’s companion.

It was only much later that she was told about the curse.

Generations back a Macaby forefather had slain a dragon in ignorance and brought a curse on the royal family. Ever since that day every firstborn daughter had died of ill health before her ninth birthday. Princess Layla, then fifteen, had somehow managed to outlive the curse ... barely. However, legend had it that, should an eldest daughter indeed survive into adulthood, she would be captured and killed by a dragon on her twenty-first birthday. This had never been tested, since no princess has lived that long, but that doesn't mean it wasn't believed.

One week before Princess Layla’s twenty-first birthday the king’s knights spotted the return of a lone dragon to the old cave, and the queen was in a desperate state. A plan had to be made – a contingency that would secure the princess’ life. And so all eyes turned to Violet. Hidden from the rest of the world, the princess' companion had grown into a pretty young thing, a perfect look-alike, and therefore a viable substitute for the ailing heir.

Violet was dressed in the princess’ clothes, kept in her room, fed her food, and treated like royalty from then on. The castle staff was told to address her as Lady Layla. The real princess was sent off to the neighbouring village to be hidden, locked in a chamber under the miller's house, as Violet took her place.

Everyone waited with bated breath, watching the skies.

Since Violet’s life had no particular value in her own eyes either, she didn't really mind at first. She had been selected to serve the princess, and that was all there was to it. It was her duty, the way of the world. No point thinking too much about it.

That is, until the afternoon when he showed up.

It is the custom for knights returning from crusades to be announced to the princess. And so, under the cover of a different name, Violet the commoner was presented to Sir Wallace as Layla, the princess. They talked, they strolled through the garden, and they liked each other. He came to see her again the next day, and the next, and he kissed her under the cherry trees the night before she was taken.

When the dragon came, there was no warning. It came in the dead of night, and its wings made no sound. Its shadow fell on the palace grounds, and its fish-like body shone like silver in the moonlight. It took Violet from her room before anyone could sound a warning. By the time she was awake enough to realise what was going on, her screaming fell on deaf ears. She was already too high in the air and too far away for anyone to hear. Not that it would've mattered. She had fulfilled her duty.

The dragon’s cave is cold and dark. Violet is lying on the pile of rubbish in a corner where she had been discarded earlier. When first the rotten smell hit her nose, her stomach turned and she wretched. The vomit seemed to have put the dragon off, at least for now, for it backed away and left her there. She can hear it moving about in the dark cave, the sound of it's heavy breathing. Every time Violet dares to move a little, it growls angrily at her. It watches her, but it hasn't yet killed her.

Is is because it senses she's an imposter?

Violet has crawled to about a metre towards the entrance of the cave, scooting forward painstakingly slow. But now the dragon is nervous. It is prancing in front her her, watching her, and she dares not make another move.

Finally the dragon scuffles off deeper into the darkness of the cave, turning its back, and Violet quickly lifts herself off the floor and shoves forward. She listens, holding her breath. Then she moves again, faster. Freedom is so close! She longs for fresh air. She can already see the rays of early sunlight outside. Day has come. Oh if she can just...

Without warning the dragon grabs Violet from behind, lifts her, and throws her violently against the wall of the cave. She gasps as her breath is knocked from her lungs. The floor is cold and hard when she falls, but there is no sound when she cries out. She blinks, shaking her head to get rid of the dizziness. Her heart is racing with fear. Through a blur she can see the dark shape of the dragon approaching, a rain of red sparks flying from its nose.

All her resolve is now gone, all prior noble thoughts about duty consumed by the overpowering will to live. In rage, in fear, Violet cries out as the dragon lunges. Her voice is joined by another. Suddenly the dark shape of the dragon stops and spins around, as if stung from behind. It roars fiercely, so loud that it seems to shake the floor of the cave. Violet cries with fear, her cheeks wet.

Please let me get out of here... Please let me live...

The dragon rears on its hind legs and spreads its wings, blocking the light from the entrance, and Violet can't see anything from where she lies on the floor. But there is something there, something that causes the dragon to make that frightful sound and excrete a nauseating stench. There is a scuffle, the dragon roars again and then it shrieks. The giant body freezes. It sways. And then it falls, dropping into a heap at the entrance of the cave. It draws one last breath and lets out a soft groan. Then it lies completely still.

A dead silence follows.

Violet scrambles to her feet, trembling and sobbing. Steadying herself by the wall of the cave, she stumbles towards the light, her vision blurred by tears.

"Help...!" she cries.

The silhouette of a man appears in her vision as he steps into the opening of the cave.

“Sir Wallace...” is all she manages, for she recognizes him instantly.

But surely she must be dreaming. Surely she must be dead and he's an angel; an angel, holding a sword that is dripping with the dragon's blood.

The knight takes three steps forward and catches Violet as she loses consciousness.

It was only the one dragon, he would tell her later. It was the last of an ancient line of dragons that were hunted down and killed through the ages. No-one was sure whether it had come back because of the curse, or if it was just lost. The dragon was old and weak, and must've been tired after the long flight. That's why it didn't eat her right away. It left a haphazard trail which was easy to track to the cave.

“Tell me again why you came looking for me,” Violet often asks.

“I knew I could not live without you,” the knight would then tell her.

“Tell me the whole thing,” she would always insist.

And then Sir Wallace would smile and relent, for even though the story still fills him with dread, he understands her need to hear it.

“When they told me you had been captured, I wanted to tear the forest apart. I appealed for others to help me find you, but no-one responded. And so I tracked the creature alone until I came to the cave. When I looked inside I saw the dragon attack you, and in the moment my heart tore in despair. I could do nothing with cry out and stab the thing with my sword. And when it came for me, God gave me strength to kill it. I found you alive and managed to carry you down into the woods. I was careful not to leave a trace. There's not much more to tell.”

At this, Violet would sigh, at last content.

But this evening, as they huddled together in front of the fire, she asks, “Are you sure no-one knows I am alive?” She has turned her face towards him, and the gold from the flames reflects in her eyes, making Sir Wallace think of the dragon.

“No-one but me and you,” he reassures her. “Violet the substitute has died. She was kidnapped by a dragon, in order to save the princess. But Lady Violet, my wife, is very much alive.”

For a moment she is quiet, watching the flames.

“So in a way,” she then says, “the old dragon saved my life.”

“I suppose it did,” Sir Wallace chuckles, and kisses his wife.

THE END