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The Dragon of The Valley

Our Guardian

By Paula ShabloPublished 2 years ago 10 min read
19
The Dragon of The Valley
Photo by Yash Munot on Unsplash

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

Of course, this was before The Wishes, Dreams and Prayers Festival.

I know what you’re thinking.

But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t my brother, either.

I’ve gotten ahead of myself.

Children’s stories always begin with “Once Upon a Time”.

I was a child, then. So was my brother. But this isn’t a children’s story, and so I won’t begin with such a fanciful phrase.

A marriage between Royals is never about love. It is always about gain. It’s always about who brings the most to the table. Will the Kingdom’s lands increase? Will those lands be productive? Are there any cattle or sheep included? Vineyards or fields of grain?

My grandparents were the King and Queen of Fairlands. They had no son. My mother was the only child, and she would inherit the throne.

She was quite the sought-after prize.

My father was a Prince, the third-born son of the Kingdom of Fayette. He would never ascend to the throne, with two brothers ahead of him in the lineage.

He would never be King of Fairlands, either; but marriage to the Queen was not without its rewards.

He believed that. I'm sure his father helped convince him of it. Both kingdoms stood to gain from the union. He would have money and prestige.

Things went well for quite a while. My grandparents were alive and healthy, and not particularly old when my parents wed. I came along almost two years later.

Surprisingly, this didn’t cause my grandfather much concern. He was content to have my mother inherit the Kingdom when the time came, and he had no issues with the lineage continuing along the female side when my time came to take the throne.

But it was an issue with my father. He was of the opinion that a King should rule.

“Well, no matter,” my mother told him. “My father is still hale and hearty and will continue to rule for some time. And when the day comes, you will be at my side through it all.”

My father declared himself content with this, but there was something in his voice—and in his eyes—that concerned my mother.

Then, when I was five, my brother was born.

A male heir! It was a miracle, Grandmother proclaimed. Grandfather was less impressed, still content that his daughter would reign someday. But beyond her reign, there would be a King once more.

And if Darren came of age before Grandfather's death, there would never be need of having a kingdom without a king. Darren would bypass Mother and take the throne.

Yes, I know I am the first born. But a male heir, if there is one, takes the throne. That's simply the way of things.

And frankly, I’m fine with that. I’ve seen Grandfather deeply stressed with his duties. Being a King isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, in my opinion. The responsibilities are endless. People must be fed and clothed. Children must be educated. Crops must be produced and harvested and stored. Overseeing it all—not my cup of tea.

As far as I was concerned, Grandfather could live forever. Then there would be no need to worry about inheritances.

Darren was still quite young when Father began to seem more than a little off.

You see, his father died.

Kings don't live forever, Darla.

Not something I wanted to know.

Father's oldest brother ascended to the throne of Fayette Kingdom, and under his reign that kingdom began to amass more lands and riches.

Father was jealous. He wanted to be doing those things himself.

Mother could see him plotting and planning, although he surely tried to be discrete. It was in his eyes, the way they narrowed when he looked at me or my brother. It was in the way he avoided eye contact with her.

Her mother, the Queen, was also concerned. Although she expressed her worries to the King, he remained optimistic about the future of the kingdom under my mother’s rule and dismissed the idea that Father would do anything to disrupt the natural order of things.

This began to change over time, though.

By the time I was twelve, I too began to worry.

I found my mother going through papers one night. I was up well past my bedtime, but seven-year-old Darren had become a prolific sleep-talker, and he was especially loquacious that night.

“What are you reading?” I asked, and then started when my mother practically leapt out of her chair.

Oh!” she cried. “My goodness, Darla, you’ve nearly frightened me to death! Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Darren is having an argument with a tiger,” I explained, exasperated. “When will I have my own room, Mother? I’m twelve! This is tiresome!”

“I know.” Mother sat and straightened the papers she had been going through. “I’m sorry. I simply feel you are both safer this way.”

“Safer?”

“Safety in numbers,” she quoted, and her face fell. “I don’t know what to do!”

She explained to me then that she believed Father was plotting to take the Kingdom someday. It could happen, she said. Upon the death of her father, she would become queen and her mother would be retired.

“But she’s a queen,” I argued.

“By marriage, but not by lineage; it is by birth that one inherits the throne.”

“That seems dumb. But—then...how could Father take over?”

I was twelve, but I wasn’t stupid. My mind immediately conceived of all the ways he could plot and scheme to make it happen.

Mother was proficient in reading my facial expressions, and she knew the second I’d reached the right conclusion.

“I believe he would,” she said, answering my unasked question.

“He’d kill us,” I whispered. “What will we do?”

“I’m devising a plan,” Mother said.

I nodded, kissed her cheek, and raced back to the nursery. I no longer felt comfortable leaving Darren alone, even for a few minutes.

I was nearly to the door when I saw Father coming from the other direction. My heart fluttered in my chest as I put my hand on the doorknob.

“What are you doing out here?” Father demanded.

“I felt a need to kiss you and Mother goodnight,” I declared, and reached up to plant a hearty smack on his cheek. “You weren’t with her. I’m glad to have found you. Why are you here?”

He smiled. For the first time, I realized I could detect coldness in that smile. My fluttering heart froze in my breast. “Interestingly,” he said, “I, too, felt the need for goodnight kisses. I was coming to deliver them to you and your brother.”

“Darren is already asleep. Goodnight, Father!” I opened the door just enough to slip through, closed it and threw the bolt.

“But—” Father’s words were cut off by the snap of the lock. He called through the door, “Well…goodnight then.”

It is most unpleasant to discover that you’re scared of your own father.

Over the next few weeks, Mother conspired to keep us all together as much as possible. We spent our days in the throne room with Grandfather and Grandmother, doing our studies and playing with toys.

Grandmother was nearly as distraught as Mother, and even Grandfather was beginning to be concerned. He went out of his way to include Father in things, but I noticed him giving his son-in-law furtive questioning looks from time to time.

“I must be able to protect these children,” Grandmother told him. “And I have a plan.”

“From your lips to the ears of gods,” Grandfather sighed, and spat through his fingers into a nearby spittoon.

“Stuff and nonsense.” Grandmother believed in gods, I suppose, but didn’t worry overmuch that she’d offend them or even draw their notice with her words.

Fair days were coming. At that time, all the kingdom’s subjects would be welcome into the courtyard. There would be peddlers and storytellers, gypsy fortunetellers and many vendors with delicious food offerings.

Grandfather had arranged for the slaughter of cattle, pigs and sheep. They would be roasted on spits over fire pits, and all would be given great slabs of bread to eat with slices of fresh hot meats.

A bountiful harvest was cause for celebration, and without the subjects of the kingdom, none of it would be possible. Grandfather was well aware of that and shared generously on Fair Days.

This Fair Day was called The Wishes, Dreams and Prayers Festival. Grandmother had called forth all the magical folk in the land to hear the wishes of the people.

“It’s all in fun,” she told us. “Of course, no one can really grant wishes and dreams. But it is always enjoyable to have a little fantasy and fancy at a fair.”

What she didn’t tell Grandfather or Father, or Darren was that there was a particular woman among the many “magical” visitors who could indeed grant a wish or two, if she deemed it to be urgent and necessary.

We feasted. We danced. We sang songs. We listened to stories of war, stories of true love, stories of monsters and beasts of the sea.

We ate sweets and played with toys. But we stayed close to Mother and Grandmother the entire time.

Grandfather was stuck on the balcony, as always, and had servants deliver food and drink to him. We returned there several times during the day to spend time with him. He watched over his subjects, greatly satisfied. Father was sometimes with us, and sometimes wandering amongst the people, talking and laughing with them.

And plotting. Always plotting.

My chest was tight with trepidation when Mother, Grandmother, Darren and I made our way to the magical woman.

Her name, she told us, was Zelda. I thought that a good and proper name for a magical woman and told her so. She smiled at me and traced her finger down my cheek. “Blessings,” she said, and I smiled back.

Pixabay Free Image

She adjusted her hood over fiery red locks and looked deeply into Grandmother’s eyes. “What troubles you, Sister?”

“I fear for the lives of my daughter and grandchildren,” Grandmother whispered. “I wish for a way to keep them protected until such time as the danger has passed away.”

“Have you set guards to protect your man?”

“Yes.”

We all looked toward the castle balcony, where Grandfather stood waving to us. He was surrounded by the best guards in the kingdom, and they saluted Grandmother when she waved back at her beloved husband.

"Have you devised a way to eliminate the danger?"

"There are plans in development," Mother replied. Her eyes were wild with fear.

Through the crowd, I could see Father approaching. He looked desperate to reach us.

Zelda's eyes flashed red. She threw a fanciful beaded rope around us and cried, “We go!”

Then…

We were gone from the fair in the castle courtyard and appeared in a large cave filled with furnishings and necessities.

Mother, Darren and me.

At the mouth of the cave, there sat our guardian. A great, winged creature with blue and violet scales, blazing orange eyes and breath of fire.

And that is how Grandmother came to be The Dragon of the Valley.

~~~*****~~~

Fantasy
19

About the Creator

Paula Shablo

Daughter. Sister. Mother. Grandma. Author. Artist. Caregiver. Musician. Geek.

(Order fluctuates.)

Follow my blog at http://paulashablo.com

Follow my Author page at https://www.amazon.com/Paula-Shablo/e/B01H2HJBHQ

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  3. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  1. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

  2. Eye opening

    Niche topic & fresh perspectives

  3. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  4. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

  5. Expert insights and opinions

    Arguments were carefully researched and presented

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Comments (13)

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  • Gerald Holmes2 years ago

    Well done. You got my attention from the beginning and held it to the last line. Looking forward to what comes next.

  • I love that twist! I thought the hero would be the Mom or Darla but the Grandmother? Seriously awesome. Can't wait to read more!

  • Michele Jones2 years ago

    Excellent twist at the end. Didn't see that coming.

  • Caroline Jane2 years ago

    Did not see that twist coming!! Got me!

  • Morgana Miller2 years ago

    Wow! This was great. Your syntax has this precise rhythm to it that really drew me in from the start, and I enjoyed the family drama unfolding.

  • Sarah St.Erth2 years ago

    Love this Paula, I think we could all use a Grandma like that from time to time!🌹✨🌹

  • Babs Iverson2 years ago

    Loving it!

  • The Dani Writer2 years ago

    Powerfully written! Great job, Paula!

  • I loved the twist!

  • Excellent story and those eyes , love the images as well as your wonderful writing

  • This is a prize winning story. Original and well written.

  • Steve Lance2 years ago

    Excellent story.

  • Cathy holmes2 years ago

    Very well written. Love the ending.

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