It began with a Knight, a beautiful faerie Knight with six silver tails and eyes like storm clouds. One who laughed in the face of monsters as they waved their tentacles or flashed their teeth at him. As they barred their claws and let their slimy saliva fall on his bare cheek. For neither their teeth nor minds were sharper than his. One by one they fell to his blade and their eyes, tongues, and scales he claimed for himself.
A Knight bored and frustrated at fawning servants and distant fathers, rode to the ogre kingdom and there he met a girl. A girl with bird bones and doe eyes whose skin shown like starlight, who stood in front of her male mirror image, teeth gritted as the ogress' rolling pin came down upon her back, bits of her green blood staining the hyssop flowers that surrounded them.
A Knight performing his obligation to the girl and having his beautiful sword and shield snatched away and the Damsel is shoved into his arms. His whole estate releases a collective sigh of relief.
A Damsel, sharp-witted and bitter, who puts her hands all over him, but flinches from his sudden touch.
A Knight who pinches his own waist while forcing a finger down his throat until it burns under the sharp gaze of the estate's Countess. They lay on opposite sides of the bed scared to even catch the other's gaze; the sweat from their bodies smells like carnations.
A Knight and Damsel enter the ballroom, smiles plastered on their faces, all eyes on them appraising, calculating, sometimes hungry gazes that burn their skin as they glide across the room. Catching hushed whispers that cause them to move closer together in a ballroom full of blooming valerian.
The Damsel who locks herself in her chambers, whose delicate body is wracked by violent tremors, and who's throat closes up as she struggles to get air into her lungs. A Knight who bolts from the room, desperate to find her mirror image, so that she can return to being whole.
The Knight grows restless and rides out to meet a Dragon, a magnificent dragon with scales of gold and eyes as red as the rubies, she's turned into a throne. When he draws his sword the Dragon gazes at him through her lashes once he catches her strong lavender scent, he's lost.
The Damsel shrugs with careless indifference as the other Seelie Court ladies tut in empathy and turns her attention to her own human lovers who hunger for her inspiration and to winning over the estate's Countess through her decadent desserts which the woman greedily devours. The secret ingredient the Damsel tells her with a smile is basil.
The Dragon takes the Knight hunting, no unicorn, griffin, or beast escapes her wicked claws or his bow. He now has even more trophies to line his walls and a lover to nuzzle his cheeks with her scaly nose. Sometimes, she even lets him ride upon her back as she swoops down the both of them laughing as the other fairies scatter, bleats of terror escaping them.
The Knight squeezes the Damsel's hand, catching her lip purse as the Faerie King and estate monarch discuss how their little dark muse is going to use her powers to their benefit. Later the Damsel holds the Knight after she hears the shrill voice of the estate's matriarch echoing through the halls, and doesn't say anything when tears run down his cheeks. Her slender fingers thread morning glories into the strands of his black hair.
The Dragon grows possessively annoyed at how long he's away and snatches the Damsel with her talons, they fly over an open field of tansy flowers. The Knight rides to her rescue. The battle ends with the Knight and Dragon locked in a naked embrace.
Inside the cave, the Damsel catches the scent of honeysuckle and resigns herself to the fact she's going to be waiting a while.
The Dragon makes this a habit, the Damsel starts bringing a knapsack full of poetry books and two bottles of good old fashioned Scottish Whisky everywhere, just in case.
The Damsel, Knight, and Dragon locked themselves in a cycle until they didn't.
A disease, a terrible disease, swept throughout the Seelie Court and a Knight weakened by lack of food succumbed.
The Dragon raged, crushing bones beneath her claws, and leaving ash where there were once villages. "It's the Countess' fault," she hissed. The Damsel who picks at the empty empty bottles crumpled at her feet agrees.
A Damsel and a Dragon united to avenge their Knight, they find the Countess, her usually sharp eyes red and puffy but she still has a smile on her painted lips. And she is surrounded by Eastern Dragons. As the golden dragon is weakened by the water they breathe, she turns to her partner in crime desperately only to catch the scent of dahlia flowers as her companion walks over to the Countess' side.
The Dragon realizes with disbelieving despair that they have switched rolls without her knowledge, only there's no knight around to save the day. The Countess raises her son's sword and brings it down.
The once Damsel places purple hyacinth on the graves on the Knight and his mistress, as she itches at the iron collar that's always been wrapped around her scaly throat and wishes she could breathe fire.