The princess stares, forlorn, outside her window. At the freshly fallen snow. And she thinks of things done long ago.
The dragon gazes, outside his tower. There may be someone to match his power. In wits, and strength, and grace alike. He looks for someone he could like.
The princess walks through frozen streets. Where butchers display their frozen meats. And children ask their parents for sweets. And she thinks that this is good.
The dragon shrinks, his scales retract. In the mirror he practices his human act. And he tightens the grip on his hood.
The princess wins another game. Another challenge, another chance at fame. Both commoners and nobles, both think the same. 'I can beat her, just one more game...'
The dragon challenges this fearsome foe. Whose father he'd beaten long ago. She sets the pieces, sits him down, thinking she'll play another clown. The dragon moves, the princess smiles, thinking they'll be there for a while. She moves her piece, he moves his own. Her expression crumples, while his is like stone.
The game moves on, the dragon will win. The princess's patience grows ever so thin. She finally snaps, and jumps to her feet. She storms out of the building, and back to the street. The dragon gives chase, his wings come unfurled. He proposes a marriage, and offers the world.
The kingdom, horrified, hinders the dragon from catching his bride. Armies start marching, they stand in the way. Trying their best to keep the dragon at bay.
The princess is ushered by all the king's men. Into the dungeons to hide. She is left, alone, once again. The loneliness shatters her pride.
The dragon, enraged, challenges all who stand in the way. To a beast such as him, the kingdom's so-called elites are merely child's play. Against his impenetrable hide, the mightiest blows are deflected aside. Before his mighty claws, all the best armors are riddled with flaws. Beneath the shadow of his wings is where hope is forgotten, where no bluebird sings.
His passage is slow, but steady he goes. One by one, the world's best had fallen. Until along comes the princess, her armor gleaming white. Upon the darkest shadows, her presence a light.
The dragon smirks. A worthy foe. He shrinks his body, his white scales glow. The princess dashes, her sword held high. In her mind, she wishes for the dragon to die. She swings the blade down, but is stopped by a claw. She punches the dragon in the jaw. A trade of blows, first one, then five. Both fighters had never felt so alive. Her armor shatters, his scales crack. They charge themselves up for one final attack.
The smoke rises. The dust is cleared. Revealing what all of the kingdom had feared. The princess was gone, and so was the beast. There would be no celebration, no fanciful feast.
Far away, in a tower, the princess stares out. At the window, at the snow, at the sleeping dragon's snout. And she sighs, exhausted, and wears a tired pout.
The dragon is content. For the first time in decades, his energy is spent. And he sighs in content in the way that things went. He guards the princess at the top of his tower. And is slumbering, sleeping, in the half on an hour.