Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

A Master Mage, a wolf princess, and a dragon walked into a tent. Nobody laughed. The punchline was a fifth term, and the joke was on every dumbass at that table.

To get there, we need to rewind five minutes, when Guinevere asked the Master Mage a direct question and the table waited for his answer.

”Because I watched you do it.” Marek leaned back in his chair and smirked. ”For someone who seems to have all the answers, that was quite a gap that you missed there.”

Guinevere studied him for a full three seconds before responding. ”You had nothing better to do than watch me read.”

”Don’t flatter yourself, Sweetheart, I was trying to give you a goddamn envelope.”

”A Master Mage with command of dark magic and the backing of one of the most powerful dragon houses on the continent could not deliver an envelope.”

”I barely did any dark magic. Please.”

”You put a demon on my ceiling while I was asleep. It also showed up in the mirror behind me twice and crawled backwards through a corridor.”

Marek rolled his eyes. ”You were not asleep. It was early evening.”

”I was throwing up blood, jackass. Yes, I was asleep.”

”You seem fine to me.”

Kael dragged a hand down his face. ”Let me clear that first part up, Stabby. Yes, she was throwing up blood and was running a fever. Yes, she was asleep.” He paused. ”You used dark magic on a sick, unconscious woman and you’re defending it instead of apologizing?”

Marek lifted his chin. ”If she had used her white magic, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

”Has it occurred to you that I don’t have your goddamn white magic? If I did, I would’ve used it already to end this shitnado circus you dragged me into.” It took the table a moment to process what she had just said because her tone was light.

Kael’s hand was still on his face. It had been there since ”dark magic on a sleeping woman” and showed no signs of relocating.

”You’re shitting me,” Marek scoffed. ”Your blood just blew a goddamn hole in the ceiling. But sure, I’m the asshole for noticing.”

Guinevere crossed her arms. ”How the fuck you became a Master Mage is either a testament to nepotism or the most compelling case for defunding magical education I’ve ever seen. A tavern fortune-teller would have a higher success rate tonight than you.”

Kael turned his head very slowly at Guinevere at this, equal parts amused and impressed.

Marek looked genuinely offended. ”A tavern fortune-teller? That’s... that’s just rude.”

”It was accurate.”

Draven leaned forward. ”In Marek’s defense, the Princess has been an unusually difficult subject this evening.”

”In my defense,” Guinevere said, ”I’ve been silver-cuffed, held at blade point, and attacked by cum-crazed-demons.”

”That’s fair,” Draven conceded. He looked at Marek. ”She has a point.”

Marek’s jaw dropped. ”She stabbed me.”

”You earned it,” Guinevere replied.

”She did warn you,” Draven added, picking up his glass. ”Twice, if I recall.”

”Whose side are you on?” Marek snapped.

Beta Draven did not respond.

”That happened hours ago,” Guinevere commented. ”Time to let it go.”

Marek’s face cycled through fifteen different emotions in the span of three seconds at the sheer audacity of that statement. Five emotions per second. Every stage of grief, the seven deadly sins, and three feelings that didn’t have names yet.

It brought Guinevere great joy to watch.

Renwick closed his eyes.

”Daughter.” One word. The word carried the specific frustration of a man who had raised a polite girl and was now watching her gut a Master Mage with vocabulary. ”Enough.”

Lord Solandris began speaking as if the interruption didn’t happen.

”After the Battle of Dying Light, the surviving Luminari returned their flame to the Gods in a ritual known as the Great Surrendering. From that point forth, flame, light, and shift were given only to sons, not daughters. Whether that was punishment or reorganization depends on who you ask, and I don’t particularly care either way.”

”The correct answer is that’s fucked,” Kael commented. ”The Gods were on a day-drinking bender when they made that call.”

”Nobody asked you, Ashenvale,” Eron growled.

”I’m contributing. Your contribution tonight has been clap-yelling and bitching. Live a little.”

Lord Solandris looked at the ceiling for one second. One. Then continued.

”Most believe the Luminari went extinct. They are partially correct. What isn’t recorded is that the King of Light divided his people. House Solandris is the only dragon house aware of their existence, and we are bound by oath to protect them.”

”Mehhh, about half of that is debatable as fuck. But I’ll let it slide. Carry on,” Kael commented.

”Debatable,” Eron repeated. ”The dragon who was a traitor until Thursday is disputing our house records. What credentials do YOU of all people have?”

”A working knowledge of Luminari migration patterns that your scrolls don’t cover because nobody bothered to update them since the Third Age.”

Eron stared at him. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

”I read faster than you. Don’t take it personally.”

Silence.

Lord Solandris closed his eyes for a full second, before continuing. In that second, he processed his brother being humiliated, his mage being roasted, and a traitor drinking his whiskey while correcting his house records.

”The gods, in their infinite wisdom, decided that half a bloodline’s power should vanish overnight. Whether you call that divine will or divine horseshit is your own affair. I call it a fact and I move on.”

TERM THE FIFTH:

”You ask which term applies to you. That would be the fifth, Granddaughter. Should any issue bear that for which the blood of House Solandris stands sworn, House Solandris shall retain the sole and superior right of claim.”

”Seems a bit one-sided,” Kael commented. ”Then again, that’s on brand for you people.”

Lord Solandris took a swig of his whiskey.

”A prophecy Solandris and The Luminari have held for thousands of years states that the light will return to a daughter. Blessed by three, watched by two, and carved in the image of one. A moon goddess descendant who will be marked three ways. A bearer of flame, shift, and white light.”

”We assumed shift manifested in the form of Dragon as original Luminari women. My Master Mage, myself, and House Solandris were incorrect, which doesn’t happen often. The original prophecy doesn’t specify what kind of shift. It just says shift.”

Guinevere’s stomach dropped through the floor of the tent and kept going.

”For thousands of years, no Luminari female has produced the white light,” he continued. ”That is, until I watched a Wolf Princess shift during a Skyrunner Lethal Simulation.”

Across the table, Renwick stared at the fire, his face giving nothing away. But his knuckles were white from gripping his glass too hard.

”We wanted more concrete evidence outside of us viewing it from afar,” Lord Solandris added.

”If we had told you it was us, girl, you wouldn’t have been afraid,” Eron said. ”We had to make it real. The cuffs were meant to suppress your other abilities so you would be forced to use your power. Instinct would kick in or you would reveal it.”

”And the fifty times she told you she didn’t have that or know how to use it, you ignored her because.... ” Kael prompted.

Eron leaned forward. ”How many of those dark fae have seen you, girl?”

”Wrong question Uncle Eron,” Kael said.

”It’s a valid one,” Eron insisted. ”Those should have triggered a response from her and they didn’t.”

”That’s not why you asked that and everyone knows it. But it’s better than bitch-clapping I suppose,” Kael replied.

Eron opened his mouth, but Lord Solandris spoke first.

”Fear is supposed to unlock it. But it appears our methods failed spectacularly.”

”Maybe not,” Guinevere replied, voice calm, not matching her heart rate. ”It’s also possible I don’t have that. Not a failure, I’m just not the candidate.”

”Perhaps. The answer to that will decide what kind of grandfather I get to be.”

📈 PROFANITY LEADERBOARD

😈 Kael: 39 ▲

👑 Guinevere: 29 ▲▲

🃏 Demons: 15

🛡️ Eron: 8 ▲

🐺 Renwick: 2

🔮 Marek: 4 ▲

📜 Lord Solandris (Edward): 1

🥃 Beta Draven: 1