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Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a castle. Once it was a sight to behold, a shining beacon in a distant city that many ventured to see.It was not only beautiful, but powerful, for the fortress was said to be impenetrable, surrounded by a deep moat and a wall higher than any had ever seen before.
That all changed when the dragon came, extinguishing the citizens of the castle with a single breath of fire. The dragon was mighty, fiercer than any of the townspeople had ever encountered, and it guarded the fortress with all its strength, batting away all those tried to breach the walls with a swipe of its mighty fist and a gust of the inferno in its lungs. And yet, the knights still came to battle, clad in iron on powerful steeds, charging the wall, battering the ramparts, struggling to break through the defenses. For within the walls of the castle, a great treasure laid in wait, a treasure the dragon sought to keep for its own.
Many believed the siege upon the castle was futile, that there lay no reason, no item of worth within its walls that merited the loss of the knights who continued to venture forth. Certainly not the glory and the boasting rights that may have come with besting the dragon were not enough to wager their very lives upon it. It came to pass over time that the knights were regarded as foolhardy, branded as seekers of danger who valued not their lives over a few moments of a fight with the fearsome beast, only to be entered in the book of ages as those who challenged and lost their battle with the mythical creature that guarded the tower.
What the townspeople didn't know, after so many generations, was that the treasure that rested within the fortress was truly worthy of their time, their effort, their lives. For within the thick walls, a beauty lay, fair of face and golden hair, the end of whose slumber was foretold to free the land from the grasp of the dragon, to loose the people from their fear and to restore order and balance to the kingdom.
It came to pass that none had the strength to fight the dragon of the fortress. Other parts of the land were besieged by beasts, but they were more easily felled, slain by knights whose confidence was bolstered by victory, who then set out to destroy the mythical, terrifying creature who had populated legends as far back as they could remember. They rode on, convinced the dragon's corpse would guarantee their names to be set in stone as the victor who had slain it.
Years followed years, decades bled into one another, and still they came, those called fools who beat their staffs and fists and lives against the stone.
None succeeded. Still the beauty slept, alone and quiet, in a chamber guarded fiercely by a hellacious beast.
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Far from the castle, a swordmaker dreamt of a beauty, lost in a dragon's grasp. A beauty who called to the swordmaker, who spoke in dreams, who begged to be set free.
The sword maker pleaded for release from the dreams, screamed that warrior's blood ran not through them, that their hands merely created the implements for others to fight. The dreams were a plague, a relentless barrage while sleeping, until no rest was to be found when their head met the pillow at night. The sword maker envied the slumbering beauty's rest, had forgotten the sensation, the pleasure of a full night's sleep. Exhaustion clouded their work, cloaking the days in a thick fog.
So one night, when the beauty visited again, the sword maker sought to strike a bargain. If the sword maker sought out the beauty, would the beauty finally release the grasp held on the sword maker's thoughts? The beauty simply nodded, beckoned the sword maker forward, promised it to be so.
So, they agreed to meet.
Despite the wishes of their family and the logical courses of action, the sword maker set out. With the fruits of countless sleepless nights' labor at the fire strapped to their steed, they left to find the beauty, to seek out the dragon, to free the fortress from its chains. The sword maker kept the visions close, refused to divulge the reasons for the journey to anyone. The beauty was not known, and the story would surely be the cause of ridicule for the sword maker, slowing their quest.
Through rain and snow, the sword maker sought the beauty's land, guided with little else but the dreams that still came at the end of every day.
Each night, the beauty grew more frantic, begging the sword maker to hurry, for the beast grew more impatient, the thirst in its heart for death and blood growing stronger by the day. The sword maker trudged on, across vast prairies and over mountains, until finally, finally, the beauty's home lands surrounded them.
When the castle appeared, tangled in thorny vines, the swordmaker felt a ripple of fear from the horse. The once-bountiful lands were scorched by dragon's breath leaving the countryside dead, foreboding. The fortress rose above it all, as impenetrable as in the dreams and the legends.
But the sword maker carried with them a weapon no one else could lay claim to. The beauty was there each step of the way, urging the sword maker along. The persistent fear that plagued others, the bravado and false pride was absent from the sword maker's thoughts as they approached.
Digging in metal-clad heels, firm on the horse's flank, the swordmaker set out across the final stretch of fields, towards the lowered drawbridge. Wielding a blade forged of the smith's finest steel and formed by their own hand, the sword maker sliced through the tangled thorns, clearing a path for the horse, guided by the beauty's voice calling out.
"Come, the beast slumbers now, I await you."
The swordmaker eased a passage to the great portal, leaving the horse with murmured words of encouragement. Slipping out of the bulky armor, armed with only a single blade, the sword maker stole into the hall, eased quietly past the sleeping beast, and up a winding stair. With the advantage of agility and speed, led by the beauty's words, the swordmaker found the door with ease.
Stealing into the chamber, the sword maker's eyes lit upon a large bed, the only furniture in the room. Drapes drawn closed, the darkness was a palpable thing, broken only by a single lit candle, it was as heavy as the voice still calling to the sword maker.
The voice didn't quiet until the beauty came into view.
Hair of gold, lips of red, and fair of face, the beauty's chest rose and fell in an enchanted sleep.
"Hurry, please," the voice beseeched.
"But I don't know how to save you." The words echoed softly, for at the end of it all, the sword maker knew not how to proceed.
"You know," the beauty begged.
Having come so far, the sword maker knelt by the bed, clasping the beauty's hand, taking a moment to gaze upon the one who shared their dreams. Leaning forward, relief after so long a journey flooding in, the swordmaker bent close, laid a kiss on the beauty's mouth. With the contact, a thousand memories flooded into the sword maker's head, the beauty's life flashing, a mother and a father and a brother and sister, calling out, reaching for the beauty, and the screams of a great beast ripping them apart. The beauty shuddered, a weighty fear pressing down, and then it broke. They both gasped and blue eyes flickered open, falling upon the sword maker.
"Mako," he breathed, and his fingers twisted, closed over hers. "You found me. You saved me."
Mako shook her head, pulled free, pressed a finger to his lips. "Not yet." The sword gleamed in her hand, and she pulled the beauty up on shaky legs - Raleigh, she had heard his mother call him with affection and love. They made their way to the door, easing it open.
"I can kill it," Mako started and Raleigh closed a hand over her shoulder.
"No, we must kill it. Together. That's the secret."
Her hands only shook for a moment, but she knew her aim to be true. Her movements were mirrored by Raleigh, who followed her lead without a moment's hesitation.
They needed no words, simply a look between them to determine their course, and the beast was felled. It was astonishing, after the decades of legend, that a simple thrust of her sword through the heart ended the life of such a fearsome creature. Raleigh's knowledge coupled with Mako's strength was all that was needed.
In the aftermath, a light dawned over the kingdom, the gloom receded, and the land bloomed with new growth. Raleigh regained his family's holdings and they prospered once more, Mako the strength by his side. She captained the guard, bringing her family to the castle to forge armor and weapons for the guard.
Mako finally slept, for the dreams she shared with Raleigh belonged to the daylight now.
The tales were re-written, of a beast who had caught a beauty, but who was slain by a warrior.