Princess Adelaide walked alongside her fiancé as they headed to dinner, listening to him drone on and on about his new riding dragon with contempt. He’d recently received the creature as a betrothal gift from her father and he hadn’t shut up about it since. Dragons were common in their kingdoms and owning one was seen as a sign of wealth and power; only the people in high positions, such as members of the Royal Family, were allowed to own one. As a sign of acceptance and to show that they were eager to have peace between the two warring kingdoms, Adelaide’s father offered his only daughter – and the dragon – as gifts to the opposing king’s son. Together, they were to unite the kingdoms and rule over it as one.

She wasn’t a big fan of the man so far. In fact, she hated him. Egotistical and domineering, Rafferty was the kind of guy women stayed away from unless they thought they would benefit from sleeping with him. His thin, weasel-like appearance certainly didn’t help the matter, either. He always had to be in charge or have the last word. Well, not this time. Adelaide had had quite enough of his boasts and she knew she needed to stop this now or it would never end. She huffed to herself before halting suddenly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring up at the scrawny man.

“Your dragon is a mutt compared to the breeds we keep here at the castle. I bet it wouldn’t stand a chance against any of the ones from the stables.” She jeered, quirking one delicate eyebrow. Her challenge earned nothing more than a scoff and a dismissive hand-wave from the prince as he started trying to walk around her. She stepped to block his path again defiantly. He raised his own eyebrow at her behavior. 

“Your father wouldn’t dare give me anything but the best.” Rafferty shot back, placing his hands on his hips as he stared her down. He was trying to make himself seem taller, more intimidating, but it wasn’t really working thanks to his small stature; he was barely taller than Adelaide, something she enjoyed greatly. “Why would he even bother giving me the dragon as a gift if it’s not the strongest one he has to offer?”

Adelaide smirked at that, knowing for a fact that her father wasn’t about to give up his best dragoness for this treaty, especially for someone as inexperienced as Rafferty. She tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. “You are a nuisance to my father and no doubt to your own. He has given you nothing more than a distraction to appease you while they settle a true treaty.” She spat. 

Rafferty made an offended sound and leaned forward so that he was mere inches from Adelaide, glaring into her eyes. She did not step back. “You are nothing but a bratty girl with a head full of hot air. I have no doubts in my mind that your father has given me the best in his stable. I am as important to this treaty as my father and I will not be insulted by the likes of you!” He hissed, his voice getting progressively louder the longer he spoke.

Adelaide kept her face impassive even though she was fuming internally. What did this child of a man know about her father? He knew nothing at all and would surely bring ruin when it came time for him to take over the throne. Suddenly, an idea hit her. An idea that was enough to make her smile at her insufferable fiancé. “Well, if you’re so confident, I’m sure you won’t mind pitting your dragon against one of mine. With a wager, of course. We wouldn’t want you to risk getting your pretty suit dirty for nothing, would we?” 

Rafferty blinked and eyed her suspiciously, the change in tone catching him off guard. “And what, exactly, will we be wagering?” He asked, his voice betraying how intrigued he was at the idea. Politics and learning to run a kingdom were boring work, and even something as simple as a wager was good enough to break the monotony. 

“Power. What else?” Adelaide started walking again, this time in the opposite direction, toward the back of the castle. “Whoever wins will have full control over the kingdom. The loser will simply be a pretty face sitting on a throne.” She turned her head and smiled at him, waiting to see his reaction. It was a risky bet, and Adelaide wasn’t sure he would bite. She would have no power with or without the bet, since tradition stated that the king would always be in charge of all the major decisions while the queen simply sat back and watched, so she wouldn’t really be changing anything if she lost. But if she won? A queen on the throne was unheard of, and it would certainly give the nobles something to talk about besides the war.

Rafferty went silent for an uncomfortably long time, his mouth slowly opening and closing like a fish gasping for air as he considered it. Finally, he gave a stern nod. “Alright, your highness. Pick any dragon you want. It will not matter, because mine will be the strongest.” 

Adelaide raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised he was so laid back about the wager considering what he would lose if his dragon lost. “You’re actually willing to pit your dragon against one of my own?” Amusement returned to her voice as the surprise wore off. 

Even more surprisingly, the prince nodded his head in agreement with no hesitation. “I don’t see why not. After all, you’re going to lose, so it isn’t much of a wager.” He said haughtily, confident despite his earlier hesitation. The princess almost snickered and quickly turned it into a cough, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Her fiancé didn’t seem to notice.

They walked together to the stables located behind the palace gardens at the rear of the castle grounds. As they neared the stone building - which was large enough to rival the castle – the temperature increased drastically, a by-product of having so many dragons in one place. Smoke spewed weakly from the two chimneys on the top of the stables. She loved the feeling, having grown with it her entire life, though she thought she saw Rafferty tugging at his shirt collar. What a wimp, she thought to herself with a little shake of her head. How does he expect to own a dragon if he can’t handle the heat?

“Wait out here while I choose my dragon.” Adelaide instructed, glancing at the prince as she stepped up to the stables and entered through the massive double doors in the front. Inside were stalls for four dragons, each one bigger than the last. She went to the last one on the right, opening the door and slipping inside without a second thought; she’d grown up in the stable and knew that they wouldn’t dare to hurt her.

The dragoness inside, Styria, greeted her almost immediately, leaning down and gently bumping Adelaide’s shoulder with her nose. She was massive, standing at 7 meters when she was on all four feet and measuring close to 15 meters from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. Her razor-sharp claws that rivalled even the best sword from the blacksmith and horns longer than the princess’ legs made her a formidable opponent, not to mention her teeth and powerful jaws that could snap a horse in half as if it were a toothpick. Dragons stronger than Rafferty’s mount had lost to Styria. She boasted many trophies from past battles in the form of long, jagged scars that cut through her blood red scales.

“Hello, Styria.” Adelaide greeted the dragoness softly, reaching up to run her hand over the red scales of Styria’s head. The dragoness almost seemed to purr, pushing her head into her princess’s hand and closing her eyes. “I hope you are ready to teach this cocky man that his dragon is no match for you.” She said, grinning and leading Styria out of the stables. The prince made a choked sound as they exited through the double doors, the color draining from his face. It was obvious that Adelaide’s dragoness was not lacking in any battle criteria. He stared up at Styria for almost thirty seconds before he caught himself and looked away.

“This is the one I choose.” The princess announced as she came to a stop in front of her fiancé. “Styria was hatched on the same day that I was born, and she’s been with me my entire life. It’s only fitting that she be the one to defeat your mount.” Rafferty shook his head and cleared his throat.

“V-very well. Give me a moment to call N’vith.” He said through a strained voice, pulling a long whistle from his pocket and blowing into it. It released a loud shrill, followed immediately by a roar as the dragoness answered her master’s call. She appeared over the treetops that made up the horizon, her brilliant golden scales reflecting the sun and shining like a beacon, and she reached the field where they stood within moments. N’vith was roughly the same size as Styria, but clearly without the previous battle experience the older dragoness possessed. 

The two dragons must have been able to feel the tension in the air because the two began growling, the sound vibrating the ground beneath their feet, and Adelaide couldn’t help but giggle softly. “Looks like they’re ready.” She said, before motioning for her fiancé to follow her as she walked around the side of the stables. “We use the fields back here to train the dragons for flight and battle. There’s more than enough room for their battle.”

The two dragonesses flew over the stables to meet them in the field, landing on opposite sides. Their snarls could probably be heard from the castle. Adelaide and Rafferty came to a stop at the edge of the field where they would be able to see the entire fight, and the princess looked over with a confident smile.

“Last chance to bow out and admit that my dragon is stronger before she kills yours.” She said, putting her hands on her hips. She was normally a mild-mannered person, but being around the prince brought out the worst in her, and she couldn’t help but be nasty toward him. Rafferty cleared his throat weakly and shook his head.

“Don’t be ridiculous. How would it look if I backed down now?” The prince asked quietly. When he realized that what he said gave away that he was nervous, he flushed slightly and shook his head. Neither of them noticed the stable boy peeking at them from around the corner of the building before running off to the castle. 

Adelaide giggled softly and looked over toward the dragons. “Ready, Styria?” She called out. The dragoness responded with a roar that caused Rafferty to flinch and cover his ears. 

“N’vith! G-get ready!” The prince said, voice shaking even as he tried to harden it. N’vith roared in return, pawing at the ground and leaving foot deep scratches. 

Suddenly, as if a bell that only the dragons could hear went off, the pair of hulks shot forward to meet in the center of the field with a crash of armored scales and heavy bodies. Grappling for a moment together Styria managed to close her jaws over the shoulder of her younger opponent.

“N’vith! Throw her off!” Rafferty shouted as he clenched his hands into fists. Flailing with pain and brief panic, N’vith tore herself free with a rent of flesh and scale that sent hot black blood raining to the ground beneath them, steam rising from the puddles.  Deep to the eyes of an uneducated observer, the gouges were mere flesh wounds to the shining behemoths.  Twisting free from the elder's grasp, N’vith clawed at Styria's belly, causing the elder to roar out of anger. N’vith’s claws glanced off of Styria’s skin, leaving shallow marks. Styria hit the golden dragoness with a burst of flame, breaking the younger’s grasp completely and pulling away to attack from a new angle. She launched herself at N’vith and began biting at any exposed area she could, ignoring the dragoness’s returning blows.

A crowd was forming on the edge of the field behind the princess and her fiancé, cheering the dragons on. There was a scattering of “Styria!” and “N’vith!” as people chose their favorites based on what little of the battle they’d seen so far. It seemed the consensus was that the red dragoness was going to win; they all knew how powerful Styria was, and that she’d never lost a fight. They believed that the golden didn’t stand a chance, contrary to the prince’s beliefs.

N’vith finally got some leverage with her claws, striking Styria on the exposed flesh of her leg. The crimson dragoness let out a shriek of pain as blood flew through the air. Adelaide narrowed her eyes. It was nothing more than a lucky hit, but it still hurt to hear her dragon in pain. “Come on, Styria! Don’t just lie down and take it.” She called out, watching her dragon’s gaze sharpen. Suddenly, N’vith was being shoved to the ground as the crimson dragoness switched their positions. The golden dragon let out a hiss as her wings were stepped on harshly, trying to buck Styria off. The elder wasn’t having it and bit down on the junction between N’vith’s shoulder and neck. Adelaide looked over to find Rafferty almost biting his perfect nails. 

“N’vith! Don’t you dare let yourself be beaten by such a worthless dragon! You are the best of the best, so act like it!” He shouted, his neat hairdo coming undone under his anxious fingers. He let out a relieved sigh as N’vith managed to squirm her way out of Styria’s grip. The golden dragon launched into the air, realizing that the red dragon was far too experienced on the ground for her to beat in a normal fight. Styria roared at her, almost sounding like a taunt, in a way, as she watched N’vith circle.

Turning in midair, the big gold shot a fireball at the red, striking Styria square in the chest. Roaring in anger, the elder staggered, bracing herself against the training field and launching herself into the air after her quarry. They began to circle, seeking to gain altitude over the other in order to gain the vantage for that oh so vulnerable kill spot behind the head and under the horned frill.  Growling menacingly and snapping at each other’s trailing tails, the energy of youth pitted against the skill and experience of age. With the realization that she would not be able to outfly the younger gold, Styria changed tactic.

Breaking away from their endless gyrations, Styria turned away as though to flee, knowing that N’vith's youthful inexperience would draw her after the other.  She was correct. The haughty gold chased after her, maw gaped open and slavering drool as she winged after Styria, eyes fixed exclusively on the bare patch of neck. 

“Tear her apart, Styria!” Adelaide called out, glancing over at her fiancé. He was red-faced and his jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscle jumped. He was nervous even though it looked like his dragon had the upper hand; the princess’ unwavering confidence had him on edge. Faltering in midair, the elder red made as though to seem indecisive, letting N’vith believe she had the upper wing. With a triumphant bugle, the gold dove towards Styria, fire bubbling in the back of her throat. Styria roared, twisting in the air, lashing her long bony tail for N’vith's exposed wing arm. The limbs connected with a crack like a whip, the high pitched cry of agony parting the gold dragoness' lips. Rolling through the air, Styria let N’vith tumble past, the defeated gold snapping fruitlessly before crashing into the field below. The crowd’s cheering was deafening.

Adelaide gave an excited squeal, clapping her hands together proudly. “Great job, Styria!” She cheered, gazing up at her dragoness with a pleased smile. “Now… Show that useless lump of scales who the more dominant dragoness is before you kill her.” Rafferty’s eyes widened and he turned to face the princess in alarm.

“What the hell are you doing?” He demanded. “She can’t kill my mount!” Adelaide just rolled her eyes with the softest of huffs.

“What did you think was going to happen, Rafferty? Even if Styria doesn’t kill her, N’vith will be put down for losing. It’s best to get it out of the way and put that poor dragon out of her misery.” The princess’ tone was far from reassuring; it was clear she didn’t care about how the dragoness died, as long as her point was made.

Making a victory lap in the air over N’vith, Styria descended upon her prey, landing on her back and pinning the young gold to the ground. She rested a great claw on her victims head, forcing the proud creature to the ground. Growling triumphantly, her tail lashed like that of a cat, whipping back and forth through the air. Leaning down, she coiled the long appendage around the hips of the defeated dragoness. The tip of the muscular limb probed for the dragoness' vulnerable vent, the pointed end slipping into the tight pucker.

N’vith flailed her limbs and started trying to drag herself away until Styria tightened her grip on the golden’s head, earning a pained squeal from the dragoness. She plunged her tail deep into N’vith’s womanhood, forcing the muscle in as far as it could go before promptly pulling it out and shoving it back in. The pinned dragon could do nothing but utter pathetic little mewls as she was violated with the spiked tail, blood pooling on the grass beneath her massive frame. This went on for several minutes, until Styria seemed to grow bored of torturing N’vith and withdrew her tail. The once proud golden dragon laid there limply, little whimpers leaving her snout with every other breath. The elder dragoness flicked her tail with a yawn, sending little drops of black blood raining down onto the grass. She looked over at Adelaide to gauge her princess’s reaction. Adelaide nodded her head with a proud little smirk.

“Kill her.”

Styria tightened her grasp on the great gold head, talons digging beneath the hardened scales, rivulets of blood beginning to dribble down her face. Snarling her triumph to the world, Styria dug in harder. N’vith's whimpers soon began to cut through the guttural tones. Roaring in frustration, Styria buried her great claws into the gold's eye sockets, the orbs bursting. Clear jelly gushed down her cheeks only to be washed away by the resulting blood. Keening shrilly, N’vith cried out to her helpless master, only to end in a strangled choke as Styria's teeth severed her spinal cord. The once proud gold slumped to the ground, limbs twitching spasmodically as the dying nerves fired without the direction of the head's commands. Strutting proudly across the field, head held high, Styria returned to her mistress. Jaws dripping with her opponent's blood, talons stained as well, Styria lowered her head to seek the approval in Adelaide's eyes.

Adelaide smiled warmly and reached up to gently scratch the dragoness’ cheek. “Good job, Styria.” She murmured, before turning to Rafferty, who was still staring at his dead and twitching mount with wide eyes. “You remember the wager, don’t you, Rafferty? The winner gets the throne.”

The prince didn’t answer for several minutes, his eyes holding a distant look in them. Finally shifting his eyes to her in a glare, he stepped away from his broken mount like it was a plague. “I remember.” He snapped, but his voice didn’t hold the conviction it used to just an hour before. He looked down at the ground, his voice reluctant but strong. A wager was a wager, regardless of tradition or personal vendetta.
“The throne is yours.”