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Last week's rankings are as follows: 
1) Orange 2) Mizal 3) Crescentstar 4) Saika 5) CaptainHooksDaughter 
(Really, all of these were good, and I had a hard time placing them. Very close ratings :P)

The winner of each week's writing prompts gets to pick one of next week's writing prompts. It has to be either a plot idea, a picture, or a quote, and I have to approve of it. So this week, if you win, please PM me when you have thought of something ^-^ 
Idea was thought of by @mizal . 
Here is this week's writing prompts ^_^ 

1) The princess fights the dragon.
2) The Hunted Hunter
3) “The king laid dead at my feet.”

Stealing the tagging list from Axiom, and tagging everyone that has expressed interest in the past. Please inform me if you don't wish to be tagged to this anymore. 
@WouldntItBeNice @Steve24833 @JJJ-thebanisher @bbshark @Bucky @mizal @FrankIevatus @TheNewIAP @Romulus @TacocaT @Crescentstar @Mayana @Zulutrader @MasonJarGuzzi @Ogre11 @malkalack @Charaxes @eshspoyeofdoom @RoyalGhost_007 @StillWatersRunDeep @temporaryaccount @ISentinelPenguinI @Drew8521 @Orange @LickReborn @ZagHero @Gemini4Ever @Bannerlord @Taylor_Boulet @Madhattersdaughter @MrMustachio @firegrill @WizzyCat @CaptainHooksDaughter
As always, anyone is free to join- not just the people tagged, and there is no time limit nor word limit. You can go back and do any of the writing prompts at any time, and you can do as many writing prompts as you wish. 
If you want criticism, you can ask. 
Have fun, everyone ^_^ 

I'm hurt that i've never once been tagged.

Ahhhh. I miss people in the tagging thing xD

I say this a lot, but i'm gonna try to enter again this week. I hope I don't disapoint everyone yet again ;-;

I'm not sure if I'll be able to write this prompt, but could you please tag me as well from now on?

Sure, I'll add you to the tagging list ^_^

You should change the iavatus tag to just iavatus. Pretty sure he's stopped bothering with the frankenstein one now that the main's been reactivated. I keep nagging him to write something new so maybe one day he will.

I'll change to his normal one then :)

Also, just a note:

For the picture, you can write about it specifically, or write something that takes it theme: someone thinks they're hunting someone else, but in reality, they're the one who is being hunted.

Just wanted to clear that up :)

Please include me in the tagging list.

Okay :D I forgot to add your new account was all.

And me! If it's not too much trouble.

I'll add you ^_^

"The king lay dead at my feet" Typo in original post, XD.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked through the snow towards the gates of the Grand City of Moip. A visor covered my eyes from the hostile snow and wind of the blizzard. But something was wrong. Even through the violent bursts of weather, the gates were visibly open. This wasn't normal. I hurried over to them, my camouflaged clothing serving as protection too.

The gates seemed to be hacked open. This was bad. Anybody with the power to use a melee weapon to open the heavy steel gates of this fortress must be using something unnatural. I pulled my assault rifle off of a bandolier on my back, slipping through the small crack. Inside the wall, the snow was being fended off by heated floor plates that melted it as it fell. This warmth radiated through my clothing, saving me from the frigid outside. I smiled from this sudden pleasure, but then I remembered my mission.

I proceeded down a small but clearly defined path past small cabins that seemed new and very hastily constructed. So far there was no evidence of a conflict, but it could've melted with the snow. An unnerving silence hung over the city. Normally, it would be echoing with the laughter of children, the grinding and pounding of craftsmen at work, and the various other noises of daily life. But now, no sound but the howl of wind was heard by me. This only scared me more, and I kept my weapon at the ready.

Although as I passed by a shopping complex, I heard gunfire and a panicked shout, followed shortly by an explosion. Silence took over again. This meant several things to me. It meant that the Royal Army was still fighting with whatever foe had arrived, but the level of success was worrying me. I had paused to contemplate this, but now I continued, aware that enemies could be all around me.

Finally I arrived at the castle. It was mostly for show, but these inner walls could still provide a safe haven for citizens and royalty alike, even from dangers like tanks and airplanes and artillery. I approached the gates and prepared for the worst. But these gates were closed. Barred shut from the inside. I brightened up. this meant that the King was probably still holding out inside.

Then I heard a shout, "Make way for the big guns!" I quickly jumped off the road and dove behind one of the rustic wooden houses in the street. Just now I noticed that the blizzard was letting up, and visibility was increasing. Now I could see much further, even if what I saw was rather horrible. Many of the rustic, old-fashioned log houses were destroyed and ruined. The more modernized homes suffered the same. It seemed that the invaders took no liberties to avoid collateral damage while storming the city. The house I was currently hiding behind was missing its windows and doors. I looked through a hole in the wall, presumably caused by a tank, and out through the front door.

I saw the Royal Army. This was awesome! A squad supported by an anti-tank gun, that was being dragged by a tank, were moving up towards the gates.

A man in sergeant's uniform shouted to them, "A'ight! This is good enough, set 'er down, and BLOW THAT GATE TO PIECES!"

The AT gun was set down by some soldiers and the tank moved aside, while keeping its turret level with the gate, ready for almost anything. The soldiers ran off the street and into the surrounding houses, readying various weapons.

The sergeant yelled, "CLEAR!" and pressed a button on a small remote.

The AT gun fired, rocking back and forth as the sound echoed throughout the city, Well now the entire invasion force knows we're here... I thought grimly as I looked at the smoking hole driven through the heavy gates.

Meanwhile the squad had reassembled and began slowly following the tank up to the gates. The sergeant tentatively prodded the gates, found them unlocked, and signalled to the soldiers to push them aside. The gates were successfully moved aside and the group continued through. I quietly trotted over, remaining as inconspicous and stealthy as possible, my winter camo helping with the second but making me stand out more, ruining the former goal.

Inside the gates was a massive courtyard, with huge bare tree, covered in snow, and a pleasant yet artificial meadow, also covered in snow. But here no heat plates could mask the signs of conflict. Bodies lay in the snow, staining it with the sickly crimson of blood. I finally got a glimpse at the invaders. They seemed to wear some sort of armor, like our supersoldiers, but looking at the numbers of dead, each one could probably take on about 25 of our most elite soldiers.

I gulped and continued to inspect the body, as the soldiers nearby continued to approach the castle, still taking no heed of me. I noted that the bodies were humanoid and the creatures possessed opposable thumbs, but they weren't human. Snow covered the visors of their helmets, so I tried brushing some aside to get a closer look at the creature inside.

BOOM! My thoughts and inspection were interrupted by an explosion from the tank. The soldiers had reached the castle building and the tank had fired at something within. The soldiers spread out a bit and also started firing inside. I decided to remain tactical and snuck around the side of the building, blending in with the "Winter Wonderland" theme of the courtyard. I reached a semi-broken window and used my elbow to knock out the hazardous glass shards. I sneakily climbed in, pleased that the gunfire from the soldiers masked my sounds. Assault rifle on the ready, I tip-toed through the remnants of some side passages, encountering only dead subjects of the King.

Finally I arrived in the Grand Hall, just a hallway away from the action. I was about to rush in but then saw something, and waited a second. One of the armored aliens ran past the Grand Throne and through to the battle. I checked to see if any more were present, and satisfied with the results of my search, approached the throne. The tapestries on the wall were burnt and stained with the blood of the staff and servants of the castle. The grand history of the Kingdom was now also literally soaked with blood, previously just metaphorically soaked with blood. But the artifacts of the Kingdom, golden scepters and jeweled crowns and other similar things remained intact, in little glass cases on tiny pedestals around the room. This gave me enough courage to continue.

And then I saw Him. The King Himself. Now lying in a puddle of His own blood and organs, with His Great Sword stabbed through Him. I walked over to Him, and commited an act of treason by flipping Him over onto His stomach. His eyes were lifeless and looking in different directions, His mouth was open and His eyebrows were contorted in an enternal state of surprise. His robes were red and soggy. His gold and jewels lay beside him in a neat stack.

He was a good King. I thought solemnly, But someone who hasn't yet taken the previous King's jewels must be tons better. I mused, He's dead now, so it can't be an act of treason. I almost chuckled at the thought, I never even knew what his name was... And now he's lying dead at my feet.

But now screams from outside brought me back to my senses. The Royals were losing the battle. Explosion shook the building. I ran over to the hallway to look out, assault rifle in my hands, but in my current state, I was as good as dead. A stocky mech was impaling a Royal with an energy blade, while shooting another repeatedly in what could be assumed was a head. Two of the armored aliens were mowing down Royals with compact rifles, while another was lifting the crew out of the tank and stabbing them, very systematically. One two one two one two. They had rhythm. Rhythm! In killing. They danced around, absorbing the few bullets of the Royals that managed to hit their targets.

It all stopped as quickly as it had started. I was entranced by this sight but now I realized that I was on my knees, assault rifle lying uselessly by my feet. I looked at the helmet of one of the creatures as it approached me, realizing that here was something so far superior to humans that it must be a dream, or that they were something out of a dream. It flipped up its helmet, moving with the grace of royalty. Well, now it was. Now its whole race was loyalty. It didn't matter who they were or how they acted, they were our rulers now. They were the Kings. I collapsed.

Not a typo if it's past tense.

I think

Laid is the wrong thing though. Lay is also past-tense. 

Yeah. Laid is for putting something down.

I didn't catch that, or I would have edited it xD

I'd like a bit of feedback, as this is my usual style of writing and a fitting genre. (It's sorta sci-fi in case you didn't realize.)

I liked it, there was some nice description and quite a bit of action going on which I do like to see. It did throw me a little with the use of technology and guns - Kings and castles imply monarchy and possibly a generic fantasy setting, so I wasn't expecting a great big tank to suddenly roll in. There are rustic houses in the city which would go well for that time period, yet there's...aeroplanes and guns? It might make more sense if this was a new threat to the villagers, I guess, unless you'd literally travelled back in time or something. If they've suffered attacks like this before, as the writing suggests, then surely some kind of bomb shelter would be put in place...but whatever.

I enjoyed reading about the aliens too but perhaps there could be more about them, the emphasis was more on the death of the King (as befitted the writing prompt). Equivalently, there's not much said about the King himself...we don't even know what he looks like until he's, well, dead. We can tell that he's important but he doesn't say anything. Nonetheless the central part of the writing is more about the action and conflict going on, which was written decently.

Overall it reads to me like a mesh of two genres but it was pretty solid nonetheless. There might be room for more background about what they're fighting and why this is happening, but the core content is mostly there.

 

Thanks for the advice. Although I sorta meant for the king to be undescribed, like he's just there and nobody really knows much about him or cares.

Commending this weeks prompt as an appreciation of Seto's hard work.

Oh. Thank you, 3J ^_^

Huzzah!

They're a lot of fun, and with Romulus' threads too keep the CC nicely active. (I keep wishing I could participate in the poetry threads too but I just can't write poetry...)

Anyway, congrats on making it to week 12.

“This is such an adorable neighborhood!” remarked Staci, letting the crisp, salty breeze tug at her golden hair and lavender gown as they rode through the quiet streets.

“I know! I absolutely love this town!” replied Pablo, her fiancé.  “Did you know that some people say this is the oldest city in the United States?”

“It is? I didn’t know that! I’m so glad that Luan suggested we look here! Even if we don’t see one we like, the whole scene is just so… picturesque!”

They took a moment to survey the beauty around them.

“Sorry to break the fantasy, but heads up: we’re gonna need to turn soon. Left onto Lemoncrest… the house should be on the right side of the road. We’re looking for 393,” Pablo read, looking up from the map on his phone only briefly to scan the area.

“393 Lemoncrest Drive? We’re here!” Staci replied as she turned into the circular drive. As they got out of the car, Pablo checked the time on his phone.

“2:13… Luan should be here by now—” Bzz! His phone vibrated. “Oh, it’s a text from her!” he exclaimed.

“What’s up? What did she say?” inquired Staci.

“There was some nasty accident on the I-95, so she’s still not going to be here for a while. She said that the door’s unlocked, though, so we can let ourselves in for the time being!”

“I hope she gets through the traffic alright.” She looked at the Spanish cottage. “Shall we?” Staci asked, holding out her arm.

“We shall,” replied Pablo, smiling and taking her arm. The couple entered the antique abode.

***

“I have to be honest with you, Pablo,” Staci said enthusiastically, looking from the chandelier to the tiered archways. “I think this could be the one!”

“Me too!” Pablo beamed, taking her hands into his. They gazed lovingly at each other and then around the foyer.

Bzz. Another text came in from Luan. After reading it Pablo looked to Staci with a grin, joy flooding his face. “Stace, this house just got even better! Luan says it has an attic!”

“An attic? Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s check it out!” Staci replied with equal ecstasy.

“She says it should be right past the kitchen,” Pablo informed Staci as he led her through the hallway. “Aha, right here!” He pointed up.

“I’ll get it down!” offered Staci. She reached for the little rope hanging from the ceiling. “This place is just so cool!” She pulled.

The ladder came crashing down from the ceiling, hitting Staci squarely on the temple with a sickening thud. She collapsed to the floor where her head made another impact before the whole ladder came falling down upon her. Bright blood met the pool of her afternoon dress in seeping rivulets around her.

“Oh God, Stace! Say something, please, are you alright?” Pablo dropped to his knees and tried to move the ladder off of her, but he wasn’t strong enough. He pulled out his phone to dial 911.

“Of all the times to not work!” He looked at his fiancée, terrified. It only took him a moment of witnessing the seeping blood to dash towards the front door.

He ran straight into the door, despite trying to push it out of his way. The impact made him bounce back onto the foyer floor. Rubbing his side, he cautiously rose up and reached for the handle of the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

He sat there for a moment, blinking at the scene in front of them. He attempted the doorknob again. Nothing happened. He attempted to call the police again. Nothing happened. He attempted to text Luan, then his mother, then Staci. Nothing happened. He feebly reached once more for the handle of the door. The lights of the cottage went out.

Luan finally arrived to a clean house, missing the couple she was supposed to meet. If only the traffic had kept her away, then someone might know of the awful rue that awaited all those who came inside. Instead, Luan entered. She was struck down by the chandelier that Staci had admired so.

OK, I'm not sure that this is a hunter being hunted. More like the prey being hunted... Doesn't really feel like it makes sense. Couple comes to house and gets massacred, who's the hunter and who's being hunted?

The couple was house hunting, but the house got them!

Wait, so it's a haunted house?

I guess that's one way to read the writing prompt. 

Hahah, I got it! I wonder if this brings up the property value.

prompt #3

      My father is King Charles the second, I am Princess Charlotte. My mother had died after I had been born so i don't really know anything about her. I have two older sisters. The oldest is Caroline, and the second oldest is Clara. If you haven't noticed my parents were doing the whole "C" themed name. My father told me that I was named after my mother, he said that I was the spitting image of her, so he named me Charlotte after she had died.

      My father went off to the war between our kingdom and a family friend King Theo. They couldn't agree over anything when they were younger and 'till this day they still can't agree.The war was because of me,I didn't want to marry King Theo's son and my dad fought for me. My dad went to war for about one year, then we got "we got the call". When my and my two sisters had gotten the call that our father had been impaled by Theo, and that Theo had been impaled by one of our warriors. We cried, then I told the carriage to take me to where my father had been killed. When I walked up on the grass where they had been fighting, I couldn't find my father. But When i looked down The King laid dead at my feet. I fell to my knees and let out a cry that the next kingdom cold hear. My sisters Caroline and Clara were there by my side and pretty soon we all were crying. A few months later Caroline was Queen and married, Clara and I were each dating a prince.

                                                                               THE END

Wow. This makes very little sense and feels like a history textbook reading to be honest. And even though you didn't edit lock and could edit for the last 2 hours, you still haven't corrected the errors...

^ Yeah lol. I mean, there's potential.

There really isn't any. What part of any of that is even slightly salvagable? It was shit undeserving of any form of redemption whatsoever.

I mean, the concept could be okay if someone who wasn't CHD did it.

Yeah, the concept is usable.

 

yes i see some of the errors,I didn't see them at first.

This is really, really bad. There's no real characters here, there's no setting and the plot is threadbare, and even at that it's ridiculous, and you should feel bad for creating this.

wow.... thank you Steve....(she says sarcastically)

Look at it this way: It seems like something off Wikipedia or a textbook or something. Those sources aren't for entertainment purposes (usually).

Grasping his dagger in his right hand, the assassin quietly slipped behind the unsuspecting guard with his back to the shadows. In one quick motion, he slit the guard's throat, and lowered him gently to the floor. Sticking to the shadows, he scaled a metal ladder, bringing him to the top of the eastern wall. From his vantage point, he could see his whole route to the king's room, where he slept soundly, unaware of his potential killer lurking just outside of his walls. The assassin leapt cat-like over the railing, plummeting toward the ground. He slammed onto a guard below him, his thighs smacking against the guards shoulders. Twisting his hips, the assassin broke the guard's neck, and his legs buckled from the impact. 

Cyrus lounged lazily across a metal chair, overlooking the kingdom from the large hill on the north side. The moon shone fiercely tonight, full and nearly twice as big as usual. He held up his sword, fascinated by the way the moonlight reflected off the blade. A slight motion caught his attention over the edge of his sword, and he strained his eyes to see in the darkness. 

The assassin stood directly beneath the window to the king's room, eighty feet above him. He clamped the dagger in between his teeth and began climbing his way upward, using the various bricks that stuck out unevenly from the wall. Twice his foot slipped off of the edge of a brick, sending loose pieces sailing down to the ground. Finally, his hand reached the window sill, and he hoisted himself high enough to peer into the room. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark, he could make out the vague form of the king in his bed, his chest rising and falling evenly. He was deep in sleep. The assassin dragged his upper body through the opening, and finally managed to fit inside. He stood hunched over, facing away the window, and slipped the dagger from in between his teeth. He had not yet fully removed it when a fierce pain spread sharply from his neck. His hand barely made it high enough to feel the word of the arrow protruding from his throat before he keeled over, lifeless. 

Cyrus slung his bow across his back, his work done. He had spotted the assassin scaling the wall and immediately notched an arrow into his bow. He sighed, knowing that this would lead to a mass search of the whole kingdom for more threats a lot less sleep for Cyrus. He yawned, before beginning the long walk back down to the castle.

Edit Lock.

This is the first writing prompt thread that I've participated in, so feedback would be great. I hope everyone enjoys it.

I like it! It seems fast paced but at the same time very short, and it leaves you hungry for more details: who is Cyrus? Why would killing the assassin mean less sleep for him, isn't he a hero? If he is being hunted, why is he hanging around the castle?

All will be revealed in time, my friend. :)

'Why would it mean less sleep?' is answered directly in the same sentence you got the question from.

But Nycto, in the future please drop the italics for posts like these. Not a bad entry but otherwise probably the last one of yours I'll be willing to read.

Yeah, but isn't he a hero? Shouldn't he be honored for his actions, not hunted?

He's not being hunted. They'll have to search for other assassins throughout the whole kingdom, so Cyrus will probably lose some sleep because he has to help search and patrol the boundaries.

Ah, if you'd have clarified earlier, a lot of my questions would've be answered.

Is English not your first language?

As a matter of fact, it isn't... :/

I thought that was clear enough in the story.

Well, it feels a bit more clear, but I sorta got the vibe that Cyrus wasn't supposed to be there and that they would try to kill hm or something.

Wow! Writing prompts! I'll try one, let's see how fly I can be. Prompt 3, please.

+++++++++++++++++++++

  The king lay dead at my feet. I gave his body a little kick to see if he wasn't -- The wizards had relayed to us younger folk those ridiculous tales of suspended animation and sleeping spells -- but there was something about his oddly bloated face and glassy marble eyes that told me the bucket hath been kicked. I quickly closed the curtains. Surely I would have points deducted for that.

  Listen up: I am not an assassin. I am the opposite of an assassin -- I do not do the stabbing, I fix the stabbing. People get hit, I fix em' up, magically, herbally, happily, and for nothing. You heard me! That's what the higher ups call an "internship". I used to be the best in my class, an onion roll among normal, boring, rolls, when my crazy childish ambition blew up in my face. I wasn't supposed to use that spell -- he was squirming -- my hand slipped -- It was my fault but not really. You've heard it all before. But listen... I was young. Hormonal. I didn't want to kill anybody.

  Nothing good comes from panicking, of course. I took a deep breath.Then two.Then a few more...Aaand then I was on the verge of metal collapse and hyperventilating. Life is like a box of chocolates: You never know who you're gonna kill. Lucky me. I killed the ruler of an entire country. The Masters had said I was too young to handle it, but oooh nooo, the good ol' Teach had to burst in, flailing with enthusiasm, saying it was just a checkup and that it would be fine. "She's the best student I've had in years!" He'd said, grinning with maniac pride. "It's not like it's major heart surgery!" It was only a skin tag, for Chrissakes, The guy was self conscious about it and wanted it zapped off before his next Royal meeting. My eyes darted to the body. Gotta do something with the body.

  I hooked my arms under his pits and dragged him to the chair (He'd been sitting on it, ya know, before he died). I tried to heave him up on it, but I sorta slipped a little and his head kissed the ground with a romantic thud. Not good. I'd been planning to sit him up so he'd look normal, but the guy was just too heavy. Nobody heard, right? I felt myself freeze up as I was promptly proven wrong. God help me.

  There was a timid knock on the door. "Uh, um." The voice was probably from a guard. A guard with a sword and no problem killing irresponsible magic kids.

  In a brilliant moment of improv, I dropped my voice a couple octaves and growled. "What do you want, commoner?"

  "...I heard a thud, so I was thinking--"

  "Thinking what, peasant? That I'd been brutally murdered by a measly wench? You insult me! That thud was the sound of my jaw dropping, because your dazzling incapability and incompetence as a public servant astounds me!"

  The voice processed this for a minute before shyly going on. "...Uh, Your Majesty, you sound kind of weird..."

  "That's why I'm having a check-up, you dolt." I bellowed. "Now return to your post before I give you the ol' one-two."

  "Y-Yes, Your Majesty." The voice then disappeared along with the sheepish footsteps down the hall.

  I wa not sure if Royal Majesties where allowed to give people "the ol' one-two", but it sure felt nice to say it.

  Back to business.

  Setting him up on a chair and pretending like it never happened would not work. Bringing him back to life was optimal, but not an option. Faking my dead, donning a cool disguise, winking at the cute stable boy and riding off into the sunset was definitely an option. So what did I do? Ding ding ding, correct answer, we have a winner. If necessary, I thought to myself, I could dress up as a boy and stowaway on a pirate ship, winning over the crew with my medical skill and charm. I could charm the captain. We could have a spring wedding. This would be after my shocking reveal, of course, and then I would  live happily and illegally ever after. Think big, get places.

  I scooched the king into an awkward squat, like he was watching ants in the dirt and having a great time. I said a dutiful prayer in his name. I opened the window. I crawled out. There was no time to take anything, and I was now (exhilaratingly) a runaway treasonous murderer. Wow! Fun! But God was too busy helping the king to heIp me, so I was on high-alert. You learn to get that way. I walked as normally as possible through the garden, trying to stop my legs from shaking and shattering on me.One of the farm boys met my eyes as he was tying up one of the horses. Million dollar idea!

  "Hey," I walked up to him, trying to seem cool and non-suspicious. "I need to borrow a horse."

  He looked me up and down, frowning. Not a suspicious frown, but a confused one. "Whysat?"

  "...Groceries."

  He shrugged and handed me the reigns. "Seems alright."

  Haha, boooooooy, do you even know.

  So you can probably guess what happened after that. I escaped. There were posters (Terribly drawn, by the by -- My forehead was NOT that big) and dog hunts and songs written about me, all for me, the girl who cruelly killed the king via magical heart palpitation and left like it was nothing. That, kiddo, is why they're so strict about medical magic nowadays. Can't so much as spell a paper cut without the feds getting on you about it. I still practice my thing, though. Nobody can stop me from that. I'm the best at what I do and I'll keep getting better. I almost want to thank Teach for that glorious murder in history, because without it, I wouldn't have left that place and become as skilled as I am. 

  Kiddo, that's enough for tonight. I've got some big bushiness tomorrow and I can't have you getting me all sleep deprived and murdering again. Some shenanigans about dragons and gems or something. What? You want to go with me? I don't know. You seem pretty sharp for you age though, we'll see...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Alrighty, slam on me da feedback. I'd love some. Thank ya!

I like it! Very unique and your style is interesting. Just a couple of errors like metal instead of mental.

 

Yeah. I skimmed through, and it seems pretty good.

?EDIT: Awesome read. :D

This was genuinely fun to read, I hope you become a regular in these threads.

Oh! And I think I would like to be tagged from now on. It seems pretty fun.

Prompt One

They all say I can't do it. It's always, 'ohh Princess, the heroic Prince has to fight the dragon!'

But the prince is dead. The dragon already killed him along with many locals of the kingdom for that matter, and now here I am. Breaking tradition. Protecting my people from the mighty beast ahead. I don't know if I can do it. Being the Princess I was always pampered and had everything done for me, and never got any combat training. I barely even know how to take a slash with a weapon, and that's a pretty easy thing to learn. I mean, you just swing your hand. Fighting a dragon seems out of the question.

"Faster, Emily." I say to my white horse. I have to get to the cavern before the dragon wakes up. I've heard it sleeps all day and awakens at night. The sun is setting on the horizon, turning the sky a crimson orange, and I don't have much time left.

Finally, in the distance, I see a tomb of igneous stone shielding the entrance to the dragons lair. Emily stops pounding her feet into the grass when we reach the structure, and I dismount her.

"Stay here, girl." I say to her quietly. She doesn't object, and seems to be waiting. I'm waiting too. Waiting for myself to gather the courage to enter the cavern.

Finally, I creep inside. It's dark, but once my eyes adjust, I can see a large damp room with stone lairing the entire interior. It the back, I hear dripping water, and a loud moan. I examine the ground as I move towards it carefully. It's cracked and worn down, as if someone had smoothed a rock and then hit it with a mallet.

I find the source of the moan, and it's none other then a snoring dragon. It could wake up any moment. For all I know, I could have been down here for an hour already just holding my breath. As if reading my mind, the dragon stirs. I duck behind a rock as I hear the dragon raise its massive head and sniff the air. The dragon is just how I thought it would be. Big, green, scaly, and winged. It doesn't have many distinguishing features other then that.

The dragon slams its feet into the ground again and again, making long strides toward me as it sniffs the air. I hold my breath, and   look as it whips its head around to look at me. It's noticed me, and it isn't happy. It snarls and bares its teeth, then lunges toward the rock i'm behind. I leap away, and in one swift smash, the rock has been reduced to pebbles.

I raise my dagger. It's stolen from the castle, but I need it more then my father right now. I'll show them all that i'm just as brave and heroic as any prince.

The dragon lunges at me again, and I barely manage to stumble away before it slams into the wall. It's dazed for a moment. I take the opportunity to raise my dagger, and bring it down on the dragons scaly body. It howls in pain, and tears its body away from the wall. I try to run, but it snatches me in its sharp claws. I brace for my death. I tried...

But I don't die.

I notice that the dragon seems... hesitant. But why? He killed many people, why is this time different? I don't get it, but the dragon sets me down. I look into its eyes, and somehow, I can tell he isn't the villain everyone thinks he is. The only times he ever killed anyone was in self defense, when they were trying to slay him.

I leave. He needs his peace just like everyone else. And if nobody hurts him, he won't hurt anybody.

And that was the end of that battle.

Edit Lock

A dragon with morals...? What have you done?! All medieval/fantasy settings ever scorn you for your sins! I, on the other hand, think it's awesome and adds the variety this genre needs. :)

Thank you ^_^

Two others have tried and failed. I shall be the first and the last.

Both who came before me gave up the ghost without uttering a word to the inquisitors. Their loyalty was admirable, but they spent their lives on nothing. I vow I shall not succumb unless it’s with the knowledge that I by my own hand have ushered in a new era.

I am invisible to the guards, the high-ranking servants. I am the lowly creature who sweeps the hearths, tends the fires. And yet, after tonight, their children’s children will remember my name.

I am no traitor. I have the blessing of the Prince himself. This morning he spoke to me as if I were an equal. With his own royal hand he poured my wine. He lights candles and prays for me now in the chapel. I’m praying now too, that I shall not fail him. That I shall not fail the bright future and his subjects to be.

Now they enter. The King and his entourage. I’m right here, on my knees to sweep the ashes away, but they don’t see me at all. The King stands nearby, exchanging a few words with a confidante. He sounds worried. And well he should be. My motives are righteous, my cause is just. And now, they have their backs turned! God smiles upon me.

The iron poker has been sharpened to a deadly point. I stand up. My legs are unsteady, but I overcome my weakness.

After a lifetime of stacking wood, my arms still have their strength. My aim is true. There are horrified screams, cries for the guards, cries for the physicians. But two feet of iron have gone straight through his heart and blossomed from his chest. My work is done. In the moment before, everyone here was greater than I, but now the King himself lies before me, and I have done what the most powerful men in the kingdom cannot undo.

I am seized, struck, spit upon, shaken about, but the poison is already in effect. My vision swims, then dims. It took hours to make itself known, but now it does its works fast, just as the Prince promised. The wine he poured was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted, but as I fall I know that victory is sweeter.

Lock.

Maybe one more to come.

Oooh. I like it. Was the character a guy or a girl? (I like it the way it is; I'm just curious. :3)

Yeah, this story was short but very concise and interesting.

It didn't actually matter to the story so whatever floats your boat.

Probably the closest I'll ever get to managing flash fiction, but it's still close to 400 words.

Who says I wasn't fantasizing what could've happened between the protagonist and the Prince? xD Kidding~

Who says the gender matters in that case? The mystery means I get to picture both. Twice the craic.

A member of the elite ruling class wanted more power and wealth without putting himself at risk, and so he manipulated someone (three someones, actually) into sacrificing themselves for his benefit in a way that couldn't ever come back to him. It probably wasn't as romantic as you think it was.

BAIT AND SWITCH


A gliding black shadow blotted out the stars above the sleeping village. Once, twice, three times the dragon circled, then it folded its wings back and dove with a roar that echoed across the hills and sent the livestock bleating and braying and fleeing in every direction.

Flames split the night, and in an instant the roar turned into a pained bellow as the fire kindled in its belly reflected back to scorch and momentarily blind the massive beast. It coughed up smoke, gnashed its terrible jaws, and plowed right through a fine-meshed net of silver light. A complicated series of runic symbols flashed white-hot into being and seared the air around it. The ebon skin of the dragon itself bore symbols of a similar nature, five in all and glowing a dim red, and at this onslaught a pair on the underside of its wings flared and then flickered out.

Several tons of reptilian fury hit the ground hard enough to shatter the chapel windows and rattle the very bones of anyone nearby. A tail like the trunk of a tree lashed out and demolished a nearby cottage, and the creature snorted fire and whipped its head this way and that, thoroughly enraged and searching out any potential victim. But what had poured out of the thatched huts was not a hapless, panicked crowd of villagers and their families, but a score of fleet footed archers and a half a dozen blue-robed mages, already taking up position.

Arrows buzzed through the air like so many hornets, stinging where they fell. But a gigantic armored reptile stripped of its powers of flight was still a gigantic armored reptile, and so most only dealt glancing blows. The archers scattered before the enraged dragon’s answering charge, aided and protected by the mages as they made their escape.

The beast smashed its head through a low stone wall a few of its attackers had taken shelter behind, and in this moment of distraction an armored figure stepped from between two buildings behind it. The flames were beginning to spread now, and their light reflected off the exquisitely detailed and fitted mixture of chainmail and plate protecting the woman’s form. Her tabard and helm bore the royal seal of the Unicorn and Rose, but it was the shining sword with the spiraling pearl tang she bore that would leave most observers with little doubt who they were looking at here. This was the Lady Elysia, a princess that even kings were known to take orders from, though her preferred line of work left her with little use for a crown.

Gripped in both hands, the sword flashed in a downward arc, severing the dragon’s tail from its body. There was a shrill cry, a gush of blood, and the red sigil on the still-twitching appendage faded into nothingness. Gone, too, was the dragon’s terrible aura of majesty and strength. All of a sudden it seemed smaller, weaker; just an animal, after all.

Though Elysia knew that somewhere in there, there still lurked a man.

“Crenavis, it’s over. Surrender and we’ll spare your life!” she shouted, as the dragon wheeled to face her.

The series of attacks along the border of a pair of neighboring kingdoms was what had brought her here with a support force, but with no dragon sightings recorded for this land in centuries and a lack of the mountainous sort of terrain they preferred, it soon became clear something else was afoot. The king himself had been ill and barely able to give them audience, but the disappearance of the court wizard coinciding with the beginning of the dragon attacks made it easy enough to put two and two together.

Crenavis had been an Archta University graduate, by all accounts a sensible man of restraint before his placement in the court here, but, well...wizards would be wizards. When survivors had actually described the dragon to her it left no further doubts. True dragons didn’t need to draw their power from runes.

Of his motives she was still unsure, but when working with her team to map out the previous attacks, a pattern had emerged. An attack on the neighboring kingdom was always followed by an attack on this one. Across the border, it had mainly been fortresses hit. Here, it was almost entirely small and obscure villages. After pinpointing the place they believed the dragon would next strike, she’d set out without bothering the severely weakened king any further, to solve his dragon problem for him. Perhaps His Majesty’s wayward wizard being returned in chains would be just the thing to perk him back up.

The de-powered and pain-maddened dragon didn’t seem inclined to end this in a civilized matter, however. Saliva foamed and flew from its dagger-like fangs as it charged straight at her. Its jaws stretched wide and Elysia saw the orange glow rise up at the back of its throat, but instead of away she darted forward and slashed with her sword, just the very tip making contact and drawing a thin line across the fourth sigil, nestled in the hollow where the reptile’s chin met its neck. The dragon coughed once, twice, and couldn’t produce so much as a wisp of smoke. With the fading of the rune, the fire within it was snuffed out like a candle.

The fifth and final sigil was emblazoned across its breast. The dragon’s flight, its strength, its fire, had all been broken, and now all that remained was its blood and dragon nature. It leapt at her now, single-mindedly intent on the kill, but she ducked under its darting head and snapping fangs and held forth her sword, bracing herself for the impact as the beast’s momentum impaled it on the blade.

With a howl of pain and despair, choked off into a gurgling cry as bloody foam spilled from its jaws, the dragon slumped forward, its form already twisting and shrinking. A moment later Elysia withdrew her sword, not from a dragon but from the crumpled form of a man.

It was not Crenavis.

The king himself lay dying at her feet. “You...you ruined...everything,” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper.

The others were returning now, gathering around and staring in various stages of surprise and disbelief. Elysia tried to gather her thoughts. She only had a moment here. “It was you, all along. What became of Crenavis? And you attacked your own people? Why?”

“We were going to...to conquer. I burned their fortresses, their soldiers...c-couldn’t make it too obvious, that’s all. A few villages didn’t...didn’t really matter. Not for a war. They...” His voice wavered now, and he drew in great, gasping breaths. “They made it look like...like the dragon attacked both sides. Crenavis though, he...he defied me. He’s in my family’s private dungeon, and he can rot there.” The king spat the last words, then broke into a fit of coughing. The blood bubbled up and spilled over his lips, and he shuddered once, then lay still.

Elysia bent and closed his eyes, then sighed and started giving her orders. Assuming he was still alive, Crenavis would have to be rescued and cleared of all charges immediately. This king would have to be buried, his replacement crowned, and she could only hope the number of witnesses to his dragon form and confession here would be enough to smooth over the fact she’d just run his predecessor through. That sort of thing always made diplomacy so complicated.

There could be matters with their neighbors to deal with too. If word of what had been going on here got out, a war might still be in the making.

Elysia wiped her sword clean and earnestly hoped she received news of another dragon soon, preferably somewhere far, far away.

Lock.

My attempt at combining all three. Huzzah for Mary Sues.

'The King lay dead at my feet' was a ridiculously good prompt btw, I probably could've written five or six more on that one if time had permitted.

Well, at least it wasn't "the MinnieKing lay dead at my feet..."

Ah shucks, should've given Seto that instead. 

I apologize, I was sick. I'll have something up by today ^^

:D Hope you are feeling well now!

 

That's terrible! I feel like I'm dying... But I'll still be writing!