“In the latter month of June, a strange alliance was formed because of an unusually bratty princess; her lust for adventure and the good life left her to terrorize a kingdom, a noteable jester, now gone knight, and a dragon that couldn't manage to get rid of her. Her events and situation turned an unlikely alliance between dragon and human alike; even Sir George the Knight was here for this entourage. Their destination? The land of Avalon; Princess Trixie was of elven nobility and would need to be returned at once, lest disaster and other misfortune be brought to the kingdom of Midgard by none other than Oberon himself. Their journey was a special one, and despite the foreboding of what could happen if things went awry, the journey was uneventful; that is except for a few strange moments.”
–
“Oh great Knight! Spare this one and live with me in merriment!”
Sir Geoerge had otherwise been unimpressed at the day's events. He flinched when he heard the words of the Princess and looked back. She was still bound in iron chains to the haywagon, she wasn't moving and she wasn't giving any signs of resistance.
“What manner of trickery is this oh kinfolk of Avalon?”
“I just want to get married? Is there something so wrong as that o great Jester?”
“Jester?!”
Sir George doesn't have time to react; he suddenly sees the cat-like eyes of Jormungand in front of him. The eyes open wide with amusement.
“You never said anything about being a Jester, Knight.”
“It's Sir George.”
“Sir George! Will you marry me?!”
The dragon looks back at the Princess, Sir George gives his usual expression. Princess Trixie had her hopeful eyes routine going on.
“At least now I know why she does that.”
Sir George mutters it to himself, pulls the reigns of Flail, his trusty horse, and reassumes his position in the entourage. The dragon, Jormungand would have none of it and once again his eyes appear alongside Sir George.
“A Jester you say. Amuse me o Knight; I am bored.”
“NEY! NE'ER to a DRAGO-”
Jormungand's tail flicks Sir George into the distance. Amusement had been served and Jormungand lets out a puff of smoke in a musement; Flail, Sir George's horse, lets out a loud whinney. The rest of the group is left to watch in dismay; if they intervened Jormungand night not be so pleasant. Suddenly, the dragon jumps the ground and flies off.
“What manner of...”
They were at the borders of Muspell; this was easy to see as the burning son could be seen in the distance; this was the land of sand, mountainous regions and otherwise very little water was about. Further in was a large volcano where fire endowed weapons were forged; Muspell was best known for its warlike society, but even better for many of the weapons that they built. They would fetch a fair price on the market, if only the dragon had been with them and helped them raid the kingdom. That was one plan down. Odin and Thor are left to their devices and mullings as they determine what to do.
“You'll let me go right?!”
“At the kingdom of Avalon, wench!”
Thor grips his hammer and otherwise gives no attention to the elf-to-be-hand in front of them. Elves were tricky business; they were either magical servants fulfilling some duty or punishment or they were kinfolk under the Kingdom of Avalon; regardless of their stature in life, they were known as pranksters that did not keep their word, and otherwise harassed and caused problems to kingdoms abroad. Dragonfire, such as that from Jormungand, was enough to deter any elf that would enter his domain; that is save for a one Princess Trixie who should otherwise have NOT been showing that sort of bravery.
“Tricky wench indeed.”
“What?”
Odin is taken aback as the dragon's eyes look before him.
“That girl is elven royalty.”
“I am also of dignified ro...”
“Do not trifle with me mortal; a far worse fate than the tamtrum of the princess if you lack the respect.”
The dragon wanted respect.
“This is the kingdom of Surt before us; he carries a flaming sword. Is it war that you wish?”
The dragon's question was a curious one. Why carry themselves into Muspell when they could simply go around; it would take several days' journey, but they would otherwise be safe from flying debris, Muspell's army, and Surt's legendary flaming sword.
“One might argue dragon; that the firebreathing lizard is also a warlike race with a flaming sword.”
Trixie was the one to speak up; for once she wasn't putting on her usual routine and it was quite a serious matter.
“The Princess shows her true colors! Astounding.”
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The dragon's head moves over to the princess and smoke slowly escapes his nostrils.
“Serve your purpose Princess; and we'll let you go here.”
The Princess snaps her head in rejection.
“Or perhaps within the kingdom of Muspell...”
The Princess looks up at the dragon, this time absolutely terrified.
“You play a dangerous game o Princess of Oberon; perhaps your journey ends here.”
The Princess shrinks.
“Do not think that I fear elves. It it is all of elven kind that FEARS ME.”
This time fire escapes his mouth and a nearby grove of trees gets roasted with flames.
“Your mouth will be shut for the rest of the journey princess. I only wish that which is mine to be rightfully mine again.”
The dragon pulls back his teeth in one of the most curious things a creature of non-human descent could do – he smiles. Thor is utterly disgusted at the display; enchanted creature had no morals and their own mannerisms were not something he should be observing. Odin had already turned his back and was approaching the desert of Muspell.
The King had decided that rather than go around the borderlands of Muspell to simply pass straight through; it was his hope that this company, along with the offering of Trixie to the gates of Avalon, would be a way to stay the current war in Muspell. There was also the matter of transporting the entire kingdom through elven magic; if it could be done, Midgard would be in a distant land and Muspell would never hear from them again. This was the perfect opportunity to set up an alliance and open trade from within their borders. However, the King was not so sure how Surt and his kingdom would respond to this.
–
In the halls of castle Muspell a strange sight was taking place; Loki and several men have procured a prisoner they found westard; it was Sir George. Loki did not know to whom it was, other than the fact his bruised face indicated some kind of torture and the fact his armor was that of the kingdom of Midgard.
“What should we do with him sire?”
Surt had just the punishment for him for trespassing at their borders. Sir George would be locked in the castle's sewer system and would be sprayed with the ilk of the most deplorable things the kingdom could create.
Sir George later awoke to a horrifying sight; the smell of raw sewage was all around him; he appeared to be in a tower of sorts, but was unable to move – his hands were chained to the wall; worse, the water was coming from higher in the tower and lightly misting. He'd have to find a way out of here, otherwise the climbing water level would be his grave.
–
Within the borders of Muspell, their journey took twelve hours before they were at the gates of Muspell. The guardsman and militarymen were also there to greet them; alongside of them was a one Loki greedily rubbing his hands. Clearly, something was amiss.
“A fair trade o King; your princess for our prisoner.”
“Begone insolent worm; we are here to see Surt himself; see to it that we get lodging and food!”
Loki is about to counter the king, but he sees the dragon Jormungand behind them. He scurries off, but not before Thor's hammer lets loose and knocks the knave unconcious.
More smoke from Jormugand signifies his amusement. Coming along with this entourage was a great thing indeed.
–
Within the halls of Muspell, a grand feat took place; this was at the command of Surt himself; not only would his enemies be leaving the area, but Jormungand would probably fall into a deep slumber and undisturbed. As for their prisoner, Surt neglected to mention that.
“To the death of our enemies.”
Surt's toast was meant with great applause from half of the chamber – his kingdom represented that half. Instead, the applause falls short as there is utter silence from the Kingdom of Midgard. Indeed, the silence also had Jormungand look up from the sack of potatoes that he had otherwise been harassing.
Surt quickly changes his tone and approach.
“To peace throughout the land.”
There is a puff of approval from Jormungand as applause erupts throughout the chamber. Jormungand continues with harassing the potato sack and devouring the contents. His face turns over to the Princess.
“Why no non-chalant Princess?”
The Princess lets out a puff of air at her hair and doesn't say anything.
“You look bored.”
The Princess nods in grim approval.
Jormungand's head nears her ear and he begins whispering the sweetest nothings into them. A smile appears on her face, but otherwise turns horrific as the chains that bind her break.
“SIR GEORGE!”
In a strange twist of fate, true love or elven madness, whichever is mightier, overtakes Trixie and she breaks the chains of fate. The entire chamber does not notice her escape as she runs to the lower section of the castle. Her love was in mortal danger and she was not about to watch him die.
Jormungand lets out another puff of smoke in fashion and continues rummaging through the next potato sack.
–
In the main section of the sewer system, Sir George has a grisly fate awaiting him; his hands were bound above his head, the water level was rising and he had about a foot between him and drowning. Luckily, Princess Trixie appears above a small walkway above him.
“SIR GEORGE!”
Sir George looks up. He had a hard decision to make – die here with the sewage, or chance the Princess. He figured the sewage would make a dignified death compared to what it could be.
“Sir George; that ploy won't work on me!”
He looks up and his mood droops; Princess Trixie's eyes were completely white and a small storm cloud appears above her head; a single bolt of lightning jumps from the cloud and shatters the chains holding his shackles to the wall.
“Sir George, I'm never going to let you go!”
Sir George doesn't have much choice, his strength was otherwise sapped from being strapped to the wall for so long. The Princess otherwise grabs him up by the arm and throws him over her shoulder; Sir George's last thoughts before passing out indicated that she was strong for a Princess, far stronger than he. How could she have put on this act for so long.
–
Once all of the potatoes had been disposed with, Jormungand slinks over to the King of Midgard and whispers some of the nastiest jokes he could think of into the King's ear. The King was not impressed; while as the rest of the chamber has fallen silent and takes to the changes of rapid expression on the King's face. Finally, the dragon whispers the dirtiest, nastiest thing he could think of into the King's ear.
“Trixie has escaped and is going to free Sir George, whom has otherwise been taken prisoner.”
The King stops what he is doing; his eyes turn sharp towards Surt.
“What, it's not like the Knight was of any value anyway.”
“That Knight might have been the only thing preventing the dismay of Trixie and the wrath of the elvenfolk.”
Surt just ushers them out with his hand.
“Begone; lest my sword do the talking.”
It didn't take long for things to turn sour and the kingdom of Midgard was left to their lodgings; a few of them chanced staying behind and otherwise trying to rescue Sir George from a far worse fate than being a prisoner. They never found him. Jormungand had also strangely disappeared by morning; the entourage had no choice but to turn back.
–
Somewhere in the forest, a lone camp is set up, chains are used to bind Sir George to a tree, and a Princess, covered in ash and mud, is enjoying her latest catch – more squirrel, cooking above an open fire.
“Release me fowl maiden! Woe unto you should I free myself!”
Sir George was starting to have second thoughts about this girl; he was also starting to show signs of bravery.
“Oh Sir George, you are so cool!”
She chucks a squirrel bone at him. Perhaps she was simply putting on an act and he was indeed her prisoner; he didn't know – he just knew it was a real twist of fate to be bound in the very chains that were used on the girl before him.
“A fate far worse than death!”
“Indeed!”
While tending to the fire, Princess Trixie lets out a smile at Sir George; after all these months, what she wanted most of all, was finally hers; she wasn't about to let him go either.
THE END.