#Knave/lizard

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

OTP storytime ouatiw edition: Scarlet Queen

Anastasia Tremaine/Will Scarlet (feat. Ana/the White King)

Scarlet Queen or Red Knave (the Red Queen/Knave of hearts) (feat. Red Sorcerer : the Red Queen/Jafar)

Little interlude for Knave/Lizard

back to Scarlet Queen feat. Red Sorcerer

Anastasia and Will

The White King and Queen of Wonderland

Sadly there wasn't a good beard for Jafar and Ana's wedding dress was red but oh well.

I miss them 💖

[lunastars21]

"Just leave me alone.."

Quick doodle as Superstars is trending on Twitter

Give this man a break..

[f4nggzz]

[sketchf4ngz]

[knizuu]

BASED ON BUMBLEKAST: SNAGGLE THE JERBOA [Anti Fang] AND STUMBLES THE LIZARD [Anti Trip] <33 I LOVE EM I claim CEO >:]

[shalomniscient]

ever so often, arlecchino finds you outside in the house's sprawling garden surrounded by the children. at any point, you could be showing them any manner of creature you've somehow managed to grab (gently, of course). just the past week it was a crimson finch that had accidentally flown into the window, and before that it was some lizard (green horned, she can almost hear you say indignantly) that had unfortunately not managed to scurry away from you in time. the children all watch with rapt interest as you cradle the little critter in your palms, softly relaying the assortment of miscellaneous facts you have stored somewhere in that brain of yours. it's an endearing sight, and one that arlecchino indulges in whenever she has the time, or feels the fatigue of staring at inane documents press against the backs of her eyes.

today, however, she watches sat beneath the shade of a willow tree, one leg crossed over the other and fingers curled around the handle of her teacup. it is a rare day of reprieve, and she spends it here in the mild fontainian mediterranean sun, her typical uniform shed in favor of a billowy white shirt and slim-fitting, high-waisted breeches. something has piqued yours and the children's interest, and all of you gather near the garden wall. she can hear the children whisper excitedly as you crouch down, and then they gasp as you stand up.

she raises a brow in interest herself. whatever it is your holding, it seems a little larger than your usual finds. however, with the crowd of children around you, it's difficult for her to actually see what it is you're holding. you spare her a glance over your shoulder, then a minute tilt of your head. a wordless invitation; come. and she does, easily, a thorny bloom to the sun, setting her teacup down with barely a sound and rising to her feet. her heels have been traded for something more casual, and her typical imposing stature has reduced somewhat--though the children still obediently part when she approaches.

"anything of note?" she asks. she studies your face carefully; from the curl of your lip to the creases at the corners of your eyes to the slope of your brow. of all things, she finds it is mischief that inhabits your expression, and she mentally prepares herself for whatever ridiculously endearing thing you're about to show her.

that 'ridiculously endearing thing', as it turns out, happens to be a rabbit--a rather plush, black-and white rabbit, sitting perfectly content in your arms. you're supporting the creature with one hand beneath its chest and the other beneath its hind legs, holding it close to you. some of the children gently pet the downy fur along its back, and the rabbit's black-tipped ears twitch in response, almost pleased.

"we found a little guest beneath the hedge line," you answer, glancing down affectionately at the creature. "the children were hoping they'd be allowed to keep it."

arlecchino snorts. "the children, or you?"

"rude," you shoot back, though the smile on your lips is still present. "come now, we've already thought of a name."

"is that so?" she drawls, her eyes narrowing a fraction at the rabbit. its own eyes, previously closed in contentment, open, and almost seem to challenge her. her fingers twitch behind her back.

"it is," you say, and there's a lightness to your tone that arlecchino knows is a harbinger of some form of mischief. her eyes meet yours, and they gleam with mirth. arlecchino wonders if the sun is ever envious of the way it is outshone. "would you like to hear it?"

she sighs, looking away. "proceed."

"thumper seems rather cute, no?" you answer innocently, batting your lashes, and internally arlecchino cringes. thumper. a name from a popular children's book, one that even a woman as cruel as the former knave would keep in stock in her library. a name, famously, that was attributed to the companion of the book's titular character, bambi.

bambi, which was also the name of the spider she once had as a child.

you notice her brief foray back into her memories, and draw her back with a soft laugh. thumper's ear twitches, and the little beast nuzzles closer against your chest. "no? well, we could always name him after you. you both seem to look quite alike, wouldn't you say? hm, how about per--"

"thumper is fine," arlecchino cuts you off, exasperation underlining her tone. there is an almost-scowl on her face, though the relaxed line of her shoulders gives away her true feelings. "the... creature, can stay. so long as it is properly cared for."

the children whoop and cheer, and your eyes soften into a thankful, tender look. thumper, now thoroughly loafing in your arms, wags his stubby little tail. perhaps he is somewhat cute, arlecchino muses, extending a hand to smooth down his fur--

--only for the traitorous little beast to lean away, cracking open an eye to glare almost witheringly at her. you coo as he presses close, and arlecchino's eye twitches. she doesn't know if rabbits have the capacity to make smug expressions, but she's willing to swear upon the tsaritsa's name that the damn creature is making that exact expression at her right now.

in hindsight, it's been a while since she's had rabbit stew.

[edgeray]

Peruere is a Person.

Inspired by my blurb series, "Arlecchino is a Person."

A/N - I did not write this. This was written by my wonderful friend @myfriendscallmebun. However, she didn't want to post it on her blog, so I'm posting it for her. All I did was some minor editing a little bit but almost every single word (minus like 2 or 3 words) was written by her. Every single like, comment, or reblog on this post is for her. I claim no ownership over this piece.

Arlecchino is not a person.

The Knave, Arlecchino, Father of the House of the Hearth, Fourth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers is not a person: she is a personification of lies and deceit spread amongst the populace, a conglomeration of exaggerated half-truths spread by veteran Fatui to scare the new recruits. Made of misconceptions and inferred information that paints a picture of a crazed and ruthless assassin–a wolf in sheep's clothing in essence; a bloodthirsty and manipulative patriarch whose tongue draws as much blood as the blade she so rarely uses. 

She’s a woman whose title alone carries a reputation that paralyzes opponents who catch just a whisper of her name. A woman whose flames scorch at the heels of those who were frozen in place by her ice cold presence alone. Arlecchino is a name that has people moving aside to let her pass by, a name that mothers hear and pull their children back into the houses from. She’s everything they say: a boogeyman–an icy breath you feel down your neck in your last waking moments, the shadows lurking around corners when you least expect; the thin veneer of an aloof diplomat that barely conceals the true mania beneath its surface. Arlecchino is at once everything she is made out to be, and nothing at all. Because Arlecchino is not a person, nor has she ever been.

Peruere is a person. She’s a woman, about 30 years old and 5’7”, although you wouldn’t realize it because she’s always wearing heels. She’s a woman who took on a title and responsibility far too young, a woman who was thrust into adulthood and the brutal world of the Fatui too early. She’s a woman who keeps few friends, and keeps her own children at an arm's length. She’s someone who has seen those around her–friend, ally, foe, and bystanders–be scorched and burned away to ash by her own hands. 

She’s someone who keeps her kids on a tight leash and strict discipline regiment, but the leash she keeps on herself is tighter. She allows her children to reprieve from the rules every now and then–turning a blind eye when they take a cookie before dinner, allowing them to keep a lizard they found as a pet for a while–but she does not afford herself the same. She’s harsh on herself, keeping every moment of her day regimented and as strict as the schedule she had growing up. Her children will live and experience far better than what she had, but she will still silently carry the burden of that time with her. 

Peruere is a person who is willing to look Dottore in the eyes–a man who she has watched take away what remaining, broken and mangled siblings she had, and knew full well what would be happening to them once they left with him- she is willing to look him in the eyes and allow him to experiment with her, with the balemoon bloodfire that curses her veins, on the hope that something good may come of it, something that can help her children.

She’s a woman who loves her kids, no matter how she can’t seem to show it. She’s a woman whose affection lies in the unspoken words behind what she actually says. 

“You’re home late.” (“I was worried about you.”) 

“Impulsiveness leads to failure.” (“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”)

“Your defense was weak, I know I’ve taught you better.” (“I cannot bear to lose another child out in the field. Please.”) 

Peruere is a woman who in some deep, dark part of her chest that she doesn’t like to acknowledge, allows herself to yearn for normality. She stares out her windows at the crowds of pedestrians and citizens making their way through the streets of Fontaine, “People-watching is a rather pleasant activity, in my opinion.” (“I would join them, if they would allow me.”) 

Peruere is a person who allows others to dictate what she should be–she allows the rumors and misconceptions to run freely amongst those who dare utter her name, even adding fuel to the metaphorical fire by being sure to live up to the reputation others have created for her. She allows her image to be muddy, full of contradictions and mistruths, and more than some mixing-ins of her predecessor. “It’s beneficial,” she says. (“It’s easier to be what people expect you to be, than to be yourself.”) 

Peruere is a person, even despite her best attempts to hide it.

[b0ba1nw0nd3rl4nd]

Roles:

Smiling Wonderland AU

Alice: Allan

White Rabbit: Pim

Tweedles: The Fun Twins (From the who murdered Salty episode) or Grim and Gnarly (Frowning Friends, IDK YET)

Bill (THE LIZARD): Rotten the f*cking snowman-

Dodo/Caterpillar/Duchess: Mr Boss (I DIDNT KNOW WHO TO USE FOR MR BOSS SO I THOUGHT U KNOW WHAT?! LES HAVE THIS MAN PLAY 3 F*CKING ROLES BABY!!!)

Duchess baby pig: ✨J A S O N✨

Cheshire Cat: Gwimbly or Charlie

Mad Hatter: Professor Psychotic

Sane Hatter (Family Guy reference): Doug

March Hare: Charlie or Gwimbly (AGAIN IDK)

Dormouse: Glep

Card Soldiers: The Bliblies

QOH: Brittney

KOH: Mr Landlord

Knave: Oscar

Gryphon and the mock turtle: Filmore and Duncan

[hatterhare]

Reblog with ur answer in tags! If a character is not listed, I've already designed them! If not, please remind me of who I'm missing :D

[curiousascuriouscanbe]

Reblog with your answer in the tags! This should be the remainder of my list, but if I realize I'm missing anyone, they'll be included next go round

[yohohonabottle]

Kidnapped knave

🖋️Summary: Well how did this happen??? Don't you just love it when you're bringing joy to everyone, and some random lizard swoops in & yoinks you away? Eh, guess this is part of the show. --Or-- The mouthy lil menace of a clown gets kidnapped by a dragon. Possibly karma for his stunt in the desert. Who nose.

Nothing out of the regular routine--Just performing for the boringly dull world of Esperia. Like namely bringing some much needed joy to a village in Holistone, for instance! Of course, those silly up-tight mortals wouldn't know fun if it smacks them in the face, so insistent on being serious and lamenting about it only. And then have the nerve to act shocked and horrified when he comes in to fix their problem. Tsk. Tough crowd, right? Oh well.

Ghastly cackling gleefully rings, the panicked villagers scrambling to hide away into their homes and call upon the Heroic Order. While they do that, the merry jingle of bells sneaks around--Obnoxious and grating. Every now and then, the shadowy mischief-maker jumps out from the ground with a giggle or amused taunt--Sometimes in one piece, sometimes as just his head followed up by his body casually leaning on its side then fall back into the ground.

No matter where the silly little village folks went, he was there whether they saw it or not. In the ground, in the walls, in the plants by the shutters of their windows, in their jumbled minds--Pulling goofy little pranks. Yet not once, did any one of the poor mortals die to his jests...Because the Hypogean chooses so.

What good is a performer without a rapt audience after all? Same reason for swatting off his other fellow dark beings whenever one or more would get a smidge too close to bringing the world's end. It simply wouldn't do. No more Esperia, no more chaos and no more show. 

Oh! The sheer tragedy! The sorrow! No, no, no! The show must go on! It must!

"Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies.~" -The winged Hypogean rasps with a playfully sing-song lilt in a low tone, strutting the streets and pretending to be oblivious, hands on his hips. The little girl hiding behind a nearby bush warily peeks from it at him. The other villagers stay in their homes, some cowering in a corner and chanting prayers to that pompous goddess of theirs; others watch him closely from their windows, hiding their children. 

"A-tishoo, a-tishoo~!" The little girl catches him look at her with one eye, the other closed and freezes where she's hiding. Trembles and tears begin to well up in her eyes, listening to his voice turn lower still. More sinister as the rhyme comes closer to its end. 

"We.all..fall—" Berial doesn't even so much as utter the last word and turn around, before something swoops right down.

A small baffled "A" squeaks out of the curly-haired fiend as talons wrap around him like grabbing a squeaky rubber toy—And snatch him up with the 'fwoosh!' of wings. Sending his top-hat falling with the rush of wind.

—"Ay! My hat!"

Try as he might, squirming out of the lizard's hold proves a no-go. Clicking his tongue in mock annoyance, the fool opens up a portal (wait, why is it so weak?? Hellow???) and grabs the hat with his tail, righting it back onto his head. A few more failed escape attempts later, Berial finally gives up with a loud bratty groan of obvious discontent and slumps with a petulant pout and a huff. Thoroughly bummed out, grumbling "Thanks for nothing, you useless reptile." under his breath sourly.

—"Where are we going anyways?"

[f4nggzz]

[sketchf4ngz]

Btw I don't have many ideas for Bark's name, if anyone has any ideas I would appreciate it

Headcanon random: Bark isn't her deadname, she kind of made that name up on the spot :"D

(+some additional sketch)

[cogentranting]

Ouatiw has as sort of its basis the idea that wishes (and to some extent magic in general) are a way of cheating the way that things are supposed to be, a shortcut. Wishes used poorly are about being willing to do whatever to get what you want. And then the villains are trying to go even one step farther, to break what few rules those wishes have to get their way. The genie's curse is framed in this way-- 'you have let your desires overrule the fates'. The big flaw is putting your desires before everything else.

But also the three laws of magic that Jafar and the Red Queen want to overthrow are each met in some way by the heroes. It's not that what the villains want is bad it is that they are willing to do anything to get it, and that most of the time, its not that their desires are totally out of reach otherwise, just that the path to them is harder.

Jafar and Alice want the same thing-- they want the love of an unjust father who withholds it. Jafar wants to use magic to force that. Alice ultimately gets that love from her father, through her steadfastness and patience and commitment to what she knows to be right (and it's acknowledged that she shouldn't have had to. Her father is wrong for making her prove herself when the love should have been given freely.) By contrast Jafar twists himself further and further to force that love and the Sultan hardens himself even more and dies remorseless.

The Red Queen wants to change the past and eventually as she returns to being Anastasia she does that, but not through magic. She doesn't wish away her mistakes, but she fixes them through repentance. And Will as the flip side of that-- also wanting to regain that past, and having to do so by just facing the pain, accepting his heart back. And once he has his heart back the way that they regain that lost past is not by undoing the past but by redeeming it through his act of forgiveness and grace to Ana.

And then Cyrus, who is not a villain but who jumpstarted everything by bringing back his dying mother at any cost (especially by risking his brothers to do so) is of course not ultimately able to bring back the dead, but has to actually face and accept her death, accept that sometimes his desires are not right and there is no way for him to have them. (This part is a little muddled by both Ana and Cyrus being brought back from the dead but you can kind of squint your eyes and go 'well there was something unjust and unnatural about their deaths because they died as a part of Jafar's upending of the natural order')

This same idea of it being wrong to pursue your desires at all costs, even when what you want is a good thing, is explored in smaller ways in multiple other episodes. Alice's test of being pure of heart where she chooses not to kill the queen, Will refusing to give the Caterpillar the Forget-me-Knot, Alice's temptation to stay in the Boro Grove, Will's choice to give up his heart (which is what ends up killing Lizard), the deal Will makes to bring the staff to Jafar. Over and over again probing the idea of what you would do to get what you want.

And notably, the wishes that don't go bad are all wishes made for other people-- Alice wishes to protect the knave, then her father, and then Will wishes to protect Alice.

[iraniq]

Surreptitious

It was a normal morning, it waking time could be called a “morning”. The underwater reek was specifically strong today, but you were used to it by now.

The breakfast was something between puke and partially molted – delicious for this geographic place. The biggest terror was the boredom, nothing to do here, but slowly perish. But today was a good day – you all would have a new toy to play. They announced their arrival last night to agitate you. The simple mined ones were in fact eager, you – not so much!

621 to population! – the warden yelled as he pushed a man inside.

He was rather skinny, some punk boy who had recently discovered he was born wrong, because this is where the defective ones go.

The Box was the most underrated metahuman prison in the world. Simply because men/women did not know of it’s existence. Men/women who were born “wrong” thought the bullets will kill them, but death was a blessing. Here … here was the real Hell.

The skinny boy just stood there, looking around. Some of the simple minded attacked him. He turned out to be quite skilled fighter … for someone his size.

Skinny punk boy spend the next year participating in the underground fights and won a higher place in the prison community. You assumed he was some kind of a gangster outside, since he had the thinking of one – establish power, learn/earn advantage – use it to become lethal.

No one bothered you tho. Not after what happened 4 years ago. It was yet another sunny /artificial lights have been replaced and now the dim light was blinding/ afternoon when appeared as dark haired, but not actually, boy approached. In the close distance you saw he was actually a grown man, mid 30s maybe, which explained some of his skills. One that come with specific age experience. And the brown hair was actually dark green.

So what is your deal. – he casually sad, sliding an orange pudding your way.

The orange colored were the least gross. He was obviously properly schooled by whoever ratted.

You just nodded and started eating with less than a zero care.

I learned you are one of the bosses around, since I became one last night … - he waited, for what, you to congratulate him, you just shoved another spoon of the orange goo in your mouth. – Well  figured we might team up. I have the lizard people and the molesters … - you choked, really, the molesters … - Yeah, yeah I know … he put a strand of his hair away. They want to leave the most. So … I was thinking, you might want to join us too.

Do you even know who I am.

You are her, the one who ate an alive human 37 years ago, you are an urban legend.

Am I .. you air creatures definitely need a hobby.

We do have one … urban legends.

Do you know what happened 4 years ago?

You killed some extra strong freak of an experiment gone wrong metahuman with 2 hits. Been a fan since I found out! – you make him choke on his blood while munching on his liver, so yes,2 hits. He was technically right!

So you do have a type! – you motioned to the snake eyed girl that has been tailing him the last several months.

Oh no … I don’t  do attachment. We are just having fun!

Well … then I a hard pass!

You want to date me peach, I am flattered.

You choked on his silly joke. Poor skinny punk boy had no idea who you were.

Tell me your name skinny punk boy!

The one and only – Joker. – he dramatically pointed at himself – Also know as The Clown Prince of  Crime, Ace of Knaves, Harlequin of Hate, Mime of Destruction, Grand Mogul of Mountebanks, Thin White Duke! – the last one fitted his skinny ass.

Excuse you, but the one One who wears the “Thin White Duke” is David Bowie.

Where do you think I stole it from! – he proudly winked at you.

You forgot “Jester of Genocide” and “King of Gotham”.

So you know me.

I was bored … - and the orange goo was over. – I will listen to you when you get me a new one. – you just got up and walked away.

You did not see His Royal Majesty for a while. Then one day he popped up, extra happy … happy for this place, this man was nuts!

Ready peach? We drift off in 3 days.

You know I can rat you on the guards right. I will be getting my orange pudding for a week.

Come on sweetheart, you look bored, tell me there are better places to be than here.

You know how I got here?

He shrugged.

I chose to! The outside world was too chaotically boring. I like the order here.

Wow … so very dramatic? Are you joining us or what.

I told you, tell me your name!

I did!

Not the one you chose for yourself, the one your poor single dad gave you, after your mom overdosed at the factory she worked in and died, also there, on that heat summer night. The last one Gotham had … in 29 years. – the pale punk boy got even whiter.

How …

I am special, this s a metahuman prison after all. You have less than zero powers, why are you here?

I …

Careful! – you pointed at your lips – lies cost lives here!

Normal prisons can’t hold me, Gotham’s wanted me permanently dead and since they failed at doing so, they send me here.

Ah yes, the scar!

How do you know!

Your mane boy! – you raised your voice and half the creatures around just left the place.

Wow …

Name!

He sighted, like the effort of revealing was physically painful!

Jack Joseph Napier.

Sweet! So you know who you are, you are sane, so sane it makes you nuts to live in this world, that feels like a delusional dream!

So you are here because of this!

Yes! And to answer your questions, I see your soul. And your life until this very moment, like I am watching a movie … not gonna talk about the lizard thing..

Please don’t! – he laughed, and for the first time in 67 years you felt a person being genuine about something.

I can’t leave and be outside in the open air alone, I need a soul to be bound to, since I don’t have one. I was created by … the last semen of a dying man and some virgin to be  prostitute when the first artificial insemination was created.

Wow … like that book “Alraune” by Hanns Heinz Ewers.

Where do you think they stole it from! – it was your turn to proudly wink at him.

Neat! So you can hypnotize people to do your bidding?

Sort of! I also consume one’s essence for a living.

So what, you eat souls?

Sort of, I consume the soul and the life spawn of the creature with it.

How old are you?

Don’t you know to never ask a lady this!

The process was created in 1922… so 100?

Close, 93.

So… how…

One bonds to a soul!

Yeah?

You pledge yours to me, I will bite out of it and place it where mine is supposed to be.

Kinky … buy why you don’t have one.

A Soul Eater powers is unlocked by one eating their own.

Not so kinky! – he made  face like the food in his imaginary plate was gross.

You laughed, this was a funny one.

How did you get in and how will you go out.

My ex – Harls got herself a new lover, her so called best friend Gre… Pamela. So now my arch nemesis Batsy will get me out. Since I am the only one that can help him against the League of Shadows…

Shush… too much info! Fine … we will make a deal, you give me a bite of your soul and a ticket out and I will help you in your endeavors.

You will be my bad ass sidekick.

You rolled your eyes.

No…you are a sneaky one … I will present you as m weird talisman, you will barely say a thing and all will think I kidnapped you or something, they will think you are of value … will try and quite possibly grab you, offer you deals, include you in big plots, confess their love …

That is so boring. – humans always thought love was something important.

They will tell you some fancy stories, their deepest secrets even … you will be on 1st row of all the drama … you love it don’t you!

Yes! – and for the 1st time in 37 years, since you came in, a sparkle bloomed into you. Finally a nice drama to involve yourself in.

What do I win tho? – he got the dirt out of one of his nails.

Immortality. I am an eternal entity who can not die. As long as I am pleased with the surroundings of mine. You will share my immortality and higher for humans strength and healing.

Wow … and all this for a tiny piece of my soul.

Yes – you smiled wickedly.

What if you get bored?

I will consume your essence and move on to another.

Then I will make sure to keep you entertained my darling.

You smiled, baring all your teeth.

I’ll be damned. I am in. – he stretched his hand. – should we seal the deal with a kiss? – he joked.

Yes, yes we should! – his surprised lasted less than a half blink and then your lips crashed his.

He did not felt anything. Even laughed about a kinkier sensations. You smiled and breathed in.

Three days later, as promised his weird bat fetish friend unsealed the hatch and fresh air came in – no hallucinogens and sedatives. You felt it, it was the middle of the night on your schedule, but it was a bright afternoon for the rest of the world, their last one.

The Box’s inmates were awoken by a scream. A scream like nothing else, even you got the chills. You entered their dreams, feeding on fear, then enter their waking minds, shifting reality. Then you absorbed their souls and nothing but dust was left. Your new friend told the sad dressed in black child that some experiment gone wrong was horror  downstairs “no one can be saved”, he said, not knowing there was nothing to be saved. You consumed them all! He sort of felt it, as your essence flew by him … like the ashes you left behind you, you roamed the open world, looking for some innocent girl’s body to inhabit, as you and J had agreed upon the settled scenario!

Let the games begin!

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

inspire by @diyunho 's story vibes!

@loki-hargreeves i know you will like it

haven't done that in a while ... dunno who to tag. Enjoy you all i guess!

[themalhambird]

No storm came on The Dragon’s wings:

It stole down in the night.

But the villagers awoke to see

The mountain set alight. 

What sky was spied through heavy smoke

Was burned a hellish red

A coat of ash scorched every throat

And all were filled with dread.

Rumour raced around and soon

They sent word to their Lord:

A mighty wyrm had claimed his  land, 

And marked it for Its hoard. 

The fire blazed until the rain

Broke forth and drenched it out.

For no man dared form a water-chain

On what might be a dragon’s mount.

Weeks passed without a second strike,

But still the village feared.

And the fear grew greater still

When their Lord appeared.

He came with  wearied, ashen face, heading

A train of battered knights

And summoning his subjects ‘round,

Confirmed that they were right. 

“A dragon has settled up there- the beast

Very nearly killed me. 

And yet…it offered me a chance 

to sheathe my sword, and treaty.

Like all its’ kind the creature has

A dreadful lust for gold. 

If we send it monthly offerings

It will let our babes grow old.

Remain content within it’s lair-

For I myself have proffered

The dragon to hunt within my woods

And take what they can offer.

Your lives and land will not be touched,

Though you may have lighter coffers

A costly but a certain peace

Is what this bargain offers

(For we could engage a Dragon Slayer-

Give Kings’ ransoms to some outcast

And pray to all the gods there are

The man’s both skilled and steadfast

For if he’s slain, the dragon’s wrath

Will send us all down to the grave.

Or else we learn we’ve given all

For naught, but to a knave

Who leeches every lick of gold

From all your worthy hands,

And, with his pockets richly lined

Flees to distant lands)

But hear me! I’ll be ruled by you!

Good people, give me advice:

Shall we risk hiring a thief-

Or simply…pay the tithe?”

The Lord had scarcely stopped his speech

As their  verdict was returned:

A little extra tax was naught

If their lives could be preserved!

And so each month the Lord sent men

He personally commanded

To collect and safely move such sums

As the hateful beast demanded. 

The months turned in to years, the years

Somehow became a century,

And the tithe had grown to such vast sums

Few villagers staved off penury.

A deputation travelled to

The Lord with a petition

“Send for a Dragon Slayer, M’lud!”

But his Lordship would not listen.

“Your grandfathers,” His lordship sneered

“Begged mine to make this treaty. 

I’ll not undo it on a whim because

You common folk grow greedy.

Besides, my coffers- you can be sure-

Are just as sparse as yours. 

A Dragon Slayer’s prices

Are not such as we could afford.”

He dismissed them and, as they traipsed,

Back out into the night

The  blacksmith muttered to the miller:

“The bastard’s robes are samite.

“Can’t afford it-kiss my arse!

I’ve heard he’s eaten orange.

Whatever the fuck an orange is-

He’s not living off pottage.”

They journeyed back, a weary group-

Denied, but not defeated

For as they travelled they’d all agreed:

They’d raise the funds they needed.

It took some time, it took some skill

(it took a small amount of cheating:

The Brewer made sure to overcharge

Any knight who fancied drinking.)

Winter turned to Spring Spring turned

To Summer- Autumn followed.

The farmers’ fields were bountiful-

Their childrens’ cheeks were hollowed.

And Gwenllian, the Blacksmith’s daughter,

Took his work to City Market:

Some swords, some knives- she also had

Gold hidden in her pocket.

Every sale she made that day

Grew the little stash,

Until at last she closed her stall 

And counted out the cash.

More than she had ever seen-

But probably not sufficient

To tempt a man to try to kill

A fire breathing Lizard.

Gwenllian half shrugged and pushed

Away any misgivings.

Dragons weren’t common enough 

For their deaths to make good livings. 

So any amount of money might do-

Call it a- a deposit. 

Slay the dragon, take-

Say half the hoard? For the mighty hero’s profit.

She headed to the tavern:

Where -so weeks of rumours said-

Some disgraced- banished- errant knight

Worked for board and bed. 

She told the woman tending bar

“I’m needing a skilled swordsman.”

“Aren’t we all, my duck!” she cackled, 

Then: “But I s’pose you’re meaning Cadvan.

And a pretty lass like you-why not,

Gawk all you want my dear,

No harm to me if you

‘Sit there sipping beer.

You have this- first tankard’s free,”

She poured Gwenllan a beer,

Then yelled across the crowded room

“CADVAN! GET OVER HERE!”

A man appeared, of Gwenllian’s age-

His hair, like hers, was golden.

A sword hung from his belt; he bore

A pair of mismatched pauldrons.

“The Lady wants a word- be sure

You make it entertaining,” 

The hostess winks and bustles off

As Gwenllian begun explaining

Who she was, from whence she came

And the money that her neighbours raised.

“You’re a knight of some kind, are you not-

Will you kill monsters, if you’re paid?”

Cadvan said, gentle-toned

“Give me three hours to prepare.

You know where in the hills the monster lives-

You can guide me to its lair?”

Gwenllian confirmed, Cadvan bowed-

Well, more inclined his head. 

He left her and she left the Inn to wait 

with her donkey and wagon instead.

When Cadvan returned, Gwenllian saw

He was clad in well-kept  armour. 

He pulled himself in to the cart, 

Sat quietly beside her. 

The journey to the village passed

In companionable silence,

Interspersed with small talk, and beneath

A cloud of looming violence.

“Have you ever,” Gwellian asked

“Slain a dragon before this?”

“No,” Cadvan gravely replied.

“But…other monsters? Yes.”

His mismatched pauldrons glinted

In the evening’s failing light. 

Gwenllian said: “tell me of it,

If we survive the night.”

She struck a tinderbox and lit

A torch to give them light,

And guided him to the lair of the beast

She’d brought him there to fight

“How is it,” he asked quietly

“You know where this thing nests?”

“My Lord’s grandfather knew it first;

He told all the rest”

A cave mouth, like a gaping maw

Scarred the barren hillside.

Ink-fingered shadows swallowed them up

The moment they stepped inside.

They still pushed on, Cadvan drew

His sword in controlled readiness.

Gwellian wished the torchlight burned

With a little bit more steadiness:

The light it cast made monsters loom

With every shelf and stalactite.

Her heart pounded in her breast

As she tampered down her fright

They hadn’t gone above a mile

Down in to the damp and cold

When the path curved round 

And they came upon the gold.

A handful here- a handful there

Petty little hills

Not nearly what there should have been

For a century’s worth of bills. 

And in the middle of the coins

Scattered through the cavern,

Loafing like cats do on laps

There was a tiny dragon.

“‘Tis but a hatchling,” Gwenllian said

As Cadvan sheathed his sword.

“Tis not the mighty wyrm that we

Were told of by our Lords!”

The knight stepped forward-The dragon lept!

 And landed on his shoulder

It purred and curled around his neck

And tried to groom his armour.

“What does this mean?” asked Gwenllian

Cadvan turned and anger shone

Deep in his eyes as he said

“Your dragon-tithe’s a con.”

Her face grew cold- her fury blazed-

She slowly clenched her fist.

“I do not care the price I’ll pay-

I swear, he’ll pay for this!

‘Tis treason to depose a Lord,

But what do we owe to a King

Whose lordlings commit such vast thefts

As would see a peasant swing?

Try and stop me if you’re sworn, Sir Knight, 

But-” She fell quiet- he shook his head.

“You’ve paid me, Mistress Gwenllian,

To see a monster dead.

And I would have no honour if

I took his Lordship’s part.

Gwenllian- I was banished because

I stabbed my leige- lord through the heart.”

She stared, he grimly smiled.

Eyes blazing as he said:

“Such a noble man he was,

Forcing women to his bed!

And as a knight is sworn,

In chief, to protect those in need

I have no regrets for what some may call

A blasphemous misdeed.

But soft- let me take you home.

First, tell the village what we’ve found.

If we have numbers at our backs,

We’ll stand on firmer ground.”

Gwenllian agreed, and they walked back

To where they’d left the cart

The sapphire hatchling hanging on,

Refusing to depart.

They arrived back at the village

As dawn kissed dark skies gold. 

They roused each house and asked them

To come hear their tale be told.

It was the day the tithe was due

And everyone expected,

Seeing a knight, that they would learn

The money need not be collected. 

Gwenllian explained that there had been

But spare change in the hoard

Most of the coin they’d sacrificed

Went straight unto their Lord.

The village heard what she said, and

When the tax-men came that night

Though they knocked ar every door

No one was in sight. 

And a mob stormed toward the castle

Armed with torches and with scythes

Demanded to speak with the Lord

Would not be denied.

The Lord came out to meet them-

With his knights all at his back.

He heard the charges made at him

And answered the attack:

“Dragons live for centuries-

Because it’s small, it can’t be old?

My friends- this is a stranger’s ploy

To run off with the gold!

“After all, it’s common knowledge that

There are two things you cannot trust-

A dragon slayer, and a wench who

Looks at him with lust.”

Some of the mob grew doubtful-

They muttered twixt themselves,

Till Gwellian asked him sweetly

“Then may we see your cells?

Your garrets and your halls my lord-

Let us all explore:

Let us see your empty treasury and

We’ll trouble you no more.”

The Lord considered briefly,

Turned to his men and softly said

“The secret’s out- draw your swords

Strike every man here dead.

My lands span half this valley-

So one village has run dry.

I own a dozen others where

I can give this a try.”

He turned back and said

To the mob: “Please, friends- step inside.

Satisfy yourselves that I 

Have nothing I should hide.”

He walked back behind the castle walls-

And his soldiers all closed ranks,

They lunged toward the villagers

With sword and mace and axe.

Some fought back-many were killed-

Others quickly fled

Cadvan seized Gwenlian’s hand,

Pulled her down among the dead.

He put his armoured body

Between Gwenllian and the battle

And tried to shield her from the sight

Of her people slain like cattle.

‘Twas inky black when all went still

But for the moans of those still dying.

And the guards had all given chase

After those who were fleeing.

Cadvan pulled Gwenllian to her feet-

She struck him across the face

“You said, with numbers-” she gestured wide-

“Well, look at our mistake!”

“I did not foresee,” Cadvan confessed

“That he would attack-

I thought in the face of those he’d wronged-

He’d give the money back.”

“I’m getting in that castle,”

Gwenllian vowed

“It it’s the last thing that I do I swear

I’ll take the bastard down.”

“The guards are gone,” Cadvan said,

“On the chase- we can walk in.

Just pray before his men come back

We’ve found out where he’s hiding.”

Side by side they went-

Methodically they hunted,

The hatchling lodged in Cadvan’s plate

Snuffled, yawned and grunted.

Then all at once was wide awake-

It ran off- it was hell bent

On following the trace of gold

Of which he’d caught the scent

The humans both went after it,

Fearing someone would see

The creature and raise the alarm

Of a potential enemy.

And so it was they found themselves

Face to face with the lord

Who was sitting basking in 

The glow of his great hoard.

More coins than he could ever need-

Than he could ever spend!

Cadvan drew his sword and said:

“This is at an end.”

The Lord sneered and grabbed at his own blade-

He slashed at Cadvan’s throat.

As Gwenllian stepped forth and brought

Her torch down on his lordship’s cloak.

She watched, her face as stone until,

At the sound of people running

Cadavan took her hand and said

“If you would live, we should be going.”

Distracted by their master’s screams,

No servant stopped stopped the couple,

Assuming the knight was one of theirs,

Hunting down the cause of trouble.

So Gwenllian and Sir Cadvan fled-

Where to, I will not say

For well ye know the King’s own spies

Hunt them to this day

Do not but hear- listen,

Listen and then spread

This tale for, all ye peasants. your

lords would see you dead

If it but brought them pennies,

Never mind true power and wealth.

If you can’t follow her example then

At least drink Gwenllian’s health!

A dragon has been demanding tribute of gold from a small village for years. And when they finally hire a slayer to deal with it, the slayer finds a dragon thats barely a hatchling