Never before had he witnessed such carnage.
A lone woman stood where the enemy army should have been, a battlefield strewn around her. Curly ringlets danced in the whirlwind. When she turned, her eyes flashed dangerously. A witch. He never imagined seeing one here. No one could have calculated this.
Cautiously, he approached the petite figure and dropped to one knee. With eyes averted, he offered the usual speech. “Oh, Great and Powerful Witch,” he said in as polite a tone as he could manage with his bone-dry throat, “we owe you a great debt for protecting our country from these invaders. How can we ever repay you for your kindness?”
The air around the woman crackled with power. It took all his courage not to flee and never return to this hellish battlefield again. One could never be sure what side a witch might be on. A friend today might be a foe tomorrow—that was the way of their independent nation.
“You are His Majesty, King Byron, are you not?” asked the woman. Her soft voice carried through the ranks.
Taken aback, he stammered, “Y-Yes,” and quietly cursed himself for the display of weakness.
“Your daughter was born today.”
His eyes widened, and his head jerked up. “A daughter, you say?”
“Yes.” The woman’s glowing eyes remained distant as she took in events far from them in the capital. “A lovely child... She will grow to be a beauty.”
He ducked his head. What did this have to do with repayment? He bit his tongue. One did not interrupt a witch, else one was likely to lose their tongue...
And only that if they were lucky.
“When she is of age, send her to Storm Bearer Peak.”
Again, his head jerked up. “Why there, Lady Witch?”
“There you will find a dragon,” she continued. “She is to be his bride.”
Byron’s mouth fell open. “Surely you jest!”
Lightning flashed in the sky, splitting the darkness in two. The boom rang in their ears. Byron bowed his head once more. “It shall be done. As repayment for your great and honorable deed, I shall send my daughter nineteen years hence to be the dragon of Storm Bearer Peak’s bride.”
King Byron would spend the better part of two decades trying to undo the ruin he brought upon his family at that moment—for how could a princess ever be expected to wed a monster?