Princess Maria is a Scholar (third person)

Summary: Sometimes the dragon rescues the princess.

--------.

If you've been following me for a while, you might remember this story (X) about Princess Maria! This story can be read as a standalone, but I recommend reading the original first!

Based on this prompt:

https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/689780510072995841/sire-sire-grave-news-the-princess-has-been

“Sire, Sire, Grave news, The Princess has been kidnapped”, “Oh has she?”, “Sire… should you not be more concerned?”. The king looked up from his reports, studying the guard’s face before laughing “Ah, you must be new here, don’t worry, she’s more than capable of handling herself”

---------------

“Sire!”

The King sighs, slumping against his throne. He’s only just finished with today’s audiences. The sun is well on its way past the horizon, casting the throne room in amber hues. The shadows that drag along the floor from the impressive array of ancestral busts lined up behind him make the castle look as weathered as he feels.

“Sire!”

The King pinches the bridge of his nose. He wishes these messengers wouldn’t start shouting from so far away. Only now can he hear the pounding of the desperate man’s footsteps coming up the Royal Hall.

“Your majesty, you’re scowling,” Sir Rian says. The long hours don’t show at all on Sir Rian’s face. The King’s personal guard looks as fresh as he did this morning, just two bells past sunrise, when the work started. “It’s already late. Surely it will be a matter that can wait until morning.”

The King tries to hide his discontent by lifting his bushy eyebrows. He’s been told that it makes him look ten years younger. “It never is.”

“Sire!” The messenger finally bursts into the throne room, throwing both doors open so hard that they collide with the wall. The man – a stablehand by the look of him – blinks stupidly at the doors and then his own hands. “Those are lighter than they look.”

“Or you’re stronger than you seem,” the King says. He props his chin on one hand, making sure to keep his eyebrows raised. “Tell me, lad, what is your urgent message?”

The stablehand looks awed. “You know my message is urgent? They say you’re the wisest king in a century, how did you know—”

“You were screaming from the courtyard,” Sir Rian interrupts. “You’re John, correct? The Stablemaster’s apprentice?”

“Yes, sir knight,” the man says, stuttering. “H-how did you—“

“Your news, apprentice,” the King says. He fights gravity. If he lets his eyebrows fall he knows that he’ll end up scowling. He tilts his head back to help them stay up. “Quickly.”

“Yes, sire,” John says, “sorry, sire. Grave news I’m afraid. The Princess has been kidnapped.” He flinches, afraid of the outburst he knows will follow.

“Oh, has she?” The King sighs in relief. He didn’t know what he would do if it were another late night ambassador arriving. “Sir Rian, you appear to be correct. That can certainly wait until morning.”

John the apprentice stares at the King. “Sire?”

The King stretches as he stands. It’s not proper, but it’s not as if the lad is a dignitary. “Hm?”

John hesitates. “Should…should you not be more concerned?”

“About what?” The King shakes himself. “What, about Maria? No.” He thinks a moment and then laughs. “No, no, I’m not worried.”

“B-but she’s been kidnapped,” John says. He looks to Sir Rian for help. “By bandits.”

“You must be new here,” Sir Rian says, taking pity on the younger man. He bows to the King. “Your majesty, please feel free to retire. I will make sure all necessary parties are made aware of the situation.”

“Thank you, Sir Rian,” the King says. He yawns and throws a wave over his shoulder to them on his way out. “Thank you for your service, the both of you. Good night.”

John rounds on Sir Rian accusingly as soon as the door slams shut. “His daughter’s been kidnapped.”

‘Yes,” Sir Rian says. He pats the man on the shoulder. “But his daughter is Princess Maria. She can take care of herself.”

“The kidnappers are bandits,” John wails.

“Which is surprising,” Sir Rian admits. “The bandits around here should know better.”

“What?”

--------------.

Princess Maria watches her captors with interest as they set up the campsite for the night. She’s only had the fortune to be kidnapped a handful of times before and never by a group as methodical as this one. Without having to communicate, the bandits divvy up the responsibilities efficiently. The sun barely has a chance to set before tents are raised, fires are lit, and dinner is set to cook.

“Amazing training,” she compliments the bandit closest to her. He’s the biggest one of the lost, nearly seven feet and easily three times as thick around the chest as her. That, apparently, makes him the leader. “I don’t think a squadron of our knights could have set up so quickly.”

“Knights have too much pride,” he says. He leans against the tree she’s tied to, blue eyes reflecting the campfire light. “That’s why they’ve got so many squires to do the work for them. Nobody will ever know your gear like yourself. If knights took up the work, they’d be faster.”

Maria hums. “Good point. Just like bathing Angelica. It takes the stable hands the better part of the day, but I can get it done in two hours.”

The man looks down at her curiously. “You named your horse Angelica?”

Maria stares up at him blankly. “My horse is named Peter.”

“Then who’s--?” The man shakes himself. “You’re awfully calm for someone who’s been kidnapped, princess.”

“You’re awfully chatty for a kidnapper,” Maria says because she, at heart, is a contrarian.

The man laughs. “Royalty sure are different.” He shakes his head. “Makes me almost sorry for doing this to you.”

“You haven’t done anything to me though?” Maria glances down at the thick layer of ropes tying her to the tree. “Except the kidnapping of course.” And the way they broke all her windows. And how they bruised her arms carrying her. And put a bag over her head for most of the journey.

Except for all that, Maria’s been treated quite well.

“Of course,” the man says dryly. “Because that’s such a minor thing to do to a princess.”

Maria squints up at him. “I never did catch your name.”

“We didn’t exactly introduce ourselves when we stormed your bedroom,” the man says. He takes a few steps away from the tree, turns, and kneels in front of her. The fire backlights him so that his face is bathed in shadow. “Reuben No Last Name, your highness.” He grins and a gold tooth winks at her. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Charmed,” Maria says. She cocks her head to one side. The sun is well and truly set now. The night chill has rolled in which means it’s time. “That raises a very interesting question, actually.”

Reuben raises an eyebrow. Behind him, the other bandits are started to dish out supper. “Does it?”

“It does.” Maria grins sharply. “Tell me, were you born with no last name, is No Last Name your last name, or do mercenaries simply throw away their family names when they become mercenaries?”

You’d think she’d started screaming profanities.

“Mercenaries?” Reuben stutters, “N-no, we’re bandits—”

“Bandits,” one of Reuben’s men blurts out. Rick? She thinks she heard someone call him Rick. “We are. Bandits that is.”

Another whispers, “Oh shit, are we going to have to kill a princess now?”

“Were you trying to hide that from me?” Maria asks. She eyes the swords laying scattered around the campsite. “You all have matching weaponry, and all of your tents seems to have been bought around the same time judging by the wear.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re mercenaries,” Rick says. He squats next to Reuben and glares. “We saved our resources and outfitted the whole gang. You ever think of that?”

“Obviously,” Maria says even though she had not. She glares right back at Rick. “Are you always this condescending? No wonder that guy set your tent up away from everybody else.”

Rick whips his head around to his tent which is, indeed, lying just outside the circle of firelight. He looks at the man in question. “Gary, really?”

“T-the ground got muddy,” Gary says. He won’t meet Rick’s eyes. “That was the last dry spot.”

“Where’s your tent, Gary?” Princess Maria asks. She inclines her head to the opposite side of the campsite. “Is that it there?”

“I’d rather not say,” Gary says.

“Gary,” Rick says, betrayed.

“Quit trying to divide my men,” Reuben says. He snaps his fingers in front of her face. “It’s clear you know we’re mercenaries. Fine. No use denying what you already know. For your own good, you best not dig further than that. We have strict instructions—”

“It’s obvious you were hired by the kingdom of Alterano,” Maria tells Gary smugly. She really hates being condescended to. “Only they would be fool enough to hire mercenaries to kidnap a princess. Only my country has a treaty with Alterano which means it’s not me they’re really after. I assume their motive is to threaten my fiancée, Prince Mark?” She rolls her eyes. “It’s sexist, frankly.”

Reuben pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have strict instructions,” he repeats and then finishes, “to kill you if you find out who hired us.”

Maria’s stomach drops. “Hired?” she asks weakly. She pretends to laugh. “No, nobody hired you. You’re bandits, clearly. Bandits who kidnapped me to ransom me, not mercenaries who kidnapped me to blackmail my fiancée.”

“Nice try,” Reuben says. He flicks his hand towards the smallest tent situated near the fire. “Might as well take that down now, Gary. Princess won’t be staying with us for very long after all.”

“Let me do it, boss,” Rick says. His jaw is clenched so tightly she can see each individual muscle. He looks like he wants to set her on fire with his mind. “Pretty please.”

“Whoa there,” Princess Maria says. She’s only managed to saw through one of the ropes binding her to the tree with the dagger they failed to find up her sleeve. This is what she gets for being clever. If she’d kept her mouth shut, she could have cut through all three ropes before they decided to kill her. “I think we’re jumping from kidnapping to murder a little too quickly. Doesn’t your client still need me for blackmail?”

“Our client is equally happy with just hurting Prince Mark,” Reuben says. He steps back so that Rick can get to her. “Seemed a bit more personal than political, if you ask me.”

“Yes, that sounds like him,” Maria says wistfully. It’s been ages since she last saw her fiancée. They’d put off the wedding so he could go on some sort of quest. She grimaces as Gary takes a menacing step towards her. “Surely we can negotiate.”

“No,” Rick growls. He draws a dagger from his belt. “No, we really can’t.”

“I think you’re misdirecting your anger towards me,” Maria tells him. “You should really be hashing this out with Gary.”

Gary shakes his head frantically and backs up until he’s out of Rick’s line of sight.

“Try not to make it too bloody,” Reuben orders. He eyes her. “We don’t want wolves to come.”

“I can’t wait until you stop talking,” Rick says, looming over her. He’s not gaunt, but the firelight pools shadows under his eyes and in his cheeks so he looks like a ghoul. “Permanently.”

Right. Well, she tried.

“ANGELICA,” Maria screams. She kicks at Rick’s shins which he dodges with ease. She frantically starts sawing through the second rope without regard for whether they’ll catch her at it. “ANGELICA!”

“Your horse isn’t going to come and save you, princess,” Reuben says. He folds his arms over his chest and sits back to watch Rick kill her. “Nobody will.”

“Horse?” Maria asks but then her dagger cuts cleanly through the second rope.

Everything happens very quickly after that.

Rick swoops down towards Maria’s neck.

The second rope falls from Maria’s hips, allowing her to deliver a truly impressive kick to Rick’s shins.

Rick stumbles back with a curse, colliding with Gary who is sent tumbling back towards the fire. Gary frantically grabs anything within reach to keep from falling on the coals and, in the attempt, he knocks over a large stack of dirty pans.

The pans tips over into the fire, the impact of metal against smoldering wood sending a huge spray of sparks into the air.

A mercenary looks up instinctively. His face pales and his breath hitches. The sparks that he expected to fade into the night are being reflected back at him. Reflected by large, black scales.

Large, black scales with teeth.

“D-DRAGON!”

The mercenaries scream at the same time Angelica roars. The trees shake and, if Maria could, she’d clap her hands over her ears. The mercenaries scramble for their weapons, diving behind tents and trees for cover.

Angelica slithers out from behind the trees and into the firelight. She stands nearly three times taller than Reuben. She snorts at the screaming mercenaries and three tents catch fire instantly. Including, Maria is pleased to note, Rick’s.

It’s chaos. Maria starts work on the third rope, flipping her dagger to use the fresh edge. Angelica is just playing, but the mercenaries don’t know that. She watches as they leap into a tactical formation, complete with shields, spears, and swords. It’s possible that Angelica could get hurt here, but Maria doubts it.

Very few things can pierce a black dragon’s scales.

Sure enough, the first volley of spears skitters right off her legs rather than pierce them. Angelica takes a dainty step right into the center of the mercenaries. The ground shakes and their defense instantly dissolves into more screaming.

“What is happening?” Reuben asks breathlessly. His back is to Maria now, sword naked in his hands and eyes fastened on the dragon lumbering through the campsite. “That’s—in these parts? A dragon?”

A mercenary charges Angelica with a yell and is swatted away before he makes it three steps.

“Angelica,” Reuben says in realization. Maria saws through the third rope just as Reuben turns on her. His grip on his sword is so tight that she can hear the leather creak. “Angelica is a dragon?”

“Not a horse,” Maria agrees. She keeps her hands behind her back, pretending to still be tied. She doesn’t have a weapon and Angelica is still all the way across the campfire, terrorizing the mercenaries. “Which I would have told you if you’d asked.”

“You’re dead,” Reuben says faintly. He doesn’t seem to care that his men are wailing behind him. He doesn’t flinch at the sound of metal against impenetrable scales. Could he be upset by the fiery loss of the tents? He points the tip of his sword at her. “You’re dead!”

Maria throws herself out of the way of his lunge. His sword thunks into the tree, splinters flying out from under the blow. She can hear them hitting the ground all around her. Strong. Too strong for her hand-to-hand combat. Maria scrambles up and makes a beeline for Angelica.

“PRINCESS!” Reuben bellows. He’s running after her, sword drawn. “STOP!”

Why do they always tell her to stop? She vaults over a tent that’s been partially crushed. She hasn’t lived this long by stoppingfor every person who wants to kill her.

Angelica chirps when she sees Maria racing towards her. She wades past the mercenaries like they aren’t there, dipping her head just enough so that Maria can use her horns to swing herself up over Angelica’s neck.

“Whoops-y,” Maria mutters when Reuben leaps through a wall of flame to slash at her legs. He misses by inches and has to roll to avoid an irritated swipe from Angelica. “Let’s get going, girl. Quickly.”

Angelica knows better than to take off with so many enemies around. She trots into the forest, faster than any person can run, and weaves between the trees. Maria can hear the mercenaries shouting and crashing through the woods more and more faintly as Angelica makes her way to the nearest clearing.

“Good girl,” Maria says when Angelica checks for mercenaries before unfurling her delicate wings. She pats the dragon’s neck. “It’s a shame they caught me without my ahlspiess. That certainly would have saved you the trip.”

Angelica croons and takes to the skies.

----------------.

“Father, I’m home,” Maria announces the next morning, throwing open both doors to the throne room hard enough they hit the wall. She feels refreshed after a few hours in her own bed. “You can call the guards back now.”

“Did we send the guards?” the King asks Sir Rian. He’s changed the pillow on his throne for one with better support. He wiggles into it and sighs with pleasure. Hopefully he won’t be so sore after today’s audiences. “That seems like a waste of taxes.”

“We didn’t, sire,” Sir Rian says.

Maria gasps. “Rude! It’s like you didn’t want me back.”

Sir Rian bows deeply. “I apologize if that’s how it came across, Princess Maria. I am, of course, overjoyed to see you well—”

Maria flaps her hand at him and throws herself into the smaller throne next to her father’s. “Lighten up, Sir Rian. You’re much more fun when Prince Mark is here.”

Sir Rian barely manages to suppress a full-body flinch. “He’s not here, is he?” He looks over his shoulder as if expecting to find Prince Mark lurking in the shadows.

“Nope,” Maria says. She throws her legs over the arm of her throne and slumps against the other arm. “Not for another three months.”

“Let me know when you set a date for the wedding,” the King says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep telling you I need at least two months to send the invitations.”

“Will do,” Maria says. She cocks her head, listening to the sound of somebody walking towards the audience chamber. “Before your first audience, you should know the kingdom of Alterano hired mercenaries to kidnap me and we might need to go to war with them.”

The King turns to look at her slowly. “What.”

The throne room doors crash against the wall as a John the apprentice bursts into the room. “Sire!”

“We should really just leave those open,” Sir Rian mutters, eyeing the cracks in the stone wall where the doors continued to hit.

“Sire,” John says. “Please, sir, it’s been a whole night and the Princess has been in the hands of kidnappers for too—” His words die as he finally looks up.

Princess Maria waves. “Good morning! Were you worried about me? That’s sweet.”

“I-I—” John turns beet red, mumbles, and then flees out the way he came in.

“Aw,” Maria says. “Is he new?”

“Obviously,” the King says.