May 1st

I am a princess. I am not looking for a charming prince but for a very particular Prince “Charming.” For a very particular reason. For a very different reason than you probably think of. This douchebag killed my dragon. He came one night to my tower, trespassing all the private property and “Beware of the Dragon” signs, and charged right through the door, shouting something about rescuing me. Before I could get to my bow and run down the stairs, this monster slashed Dimples in his sleep with a sword and, in a deranged fit of affection, started to advance toward me, shouting about his princehood. He dashed to the side to hide from the arrow, and it reached his thigh instead of his chest. So, now I am looking for a limping loser.

May 3rd

When people learn about me, they instantly assume that I am either imprisoned or cursed, that I have an evil stepmother, or I was stolen from my parents at birth. The only dash of truth in all of it is that I indeed have a stepmother. Not an evil one. She is a wonderful woman who cares for my younger sisters and gave my father two sons so the kingdom can peacefully wait for the king’s death. I am the oldest of the royal children and beyond happy to be released from court. I was the unruly one who became even more of a headache after her mother’s death and bringing home a baby dragon. Dimples had been scaring everyone, and then everyone was enraging me, so after a fruitful discussion with my father and his wife, we agreed on an arrangement that would benefit us all. Therefore, I got a beautiful ancient tower to take care of. I could have my fire-breathing friend and keep an eye on the kingdom’s border. Not that we were in any danger. The king couldn’t even pick a fight with a seventeen-year-old me.

May 6th

First, I wasn’t sure why this poor excuse for a family coat of arms even appeared at my doorstep. Then I recalled my sister’s letter about the tournament in our capital. He must have been on his way there and simply stumbled upon us right after crossing the bridge on the border. And assuming the same as everybody else, he felt the need to commit murder on Dimples and threaten me with a true love’s kiss. He saved me from living happily in my own real estate with my dragon. Well, if I was rescued, then I am ungrateful.

I hope to get him before he makes it to the tournament. My father is going to try to settle the matter amicably and will definitely be against me killing this rat for “an honest mistake.” In our kingdom, the grace of honest mistakes is bestowed exclusively on men. Women can only make “grievous errors in judgment.”

Despite my family’s invitation, I wasn’t planning to attend the tournament. As a child, I loved it even more than the Holidays. Once, my father jokingly proclaimed that he would cancel the tournament the next year, and I threatened to run away. Since then, it lost its appeal. Mostly because nowadays, I wasn’t surrounded by the swarm of my silly cousins but by the bunch of spoiled crybaby knights who didn’t know war or proper training. They were half-drunk all the time, and the competition wasn’t even a good show anymore. Also, I wasn’t fond of leaving Dimples alone for long. When he got upset, he would burn a tree here and there, and I was afraid he could cause more damage.

May 9th

Poor little Dimples. I cannot think of him, or I won’t be able ever to stop crying. My eyes are so swollen already, and the salt of my tears burns the corners. This emptiness in my stomach burns through me and keeps me boiling. I know that I should eat, but everything makes me sick. My little sleep is riddled with such obnoxious dreams that I wake up sweaty and disoriented. Even though my horse is uneasy, she still trusts me. But she can feel my distress, and I feel bad for making her take me on this depressing journey. Every night when I go to sleep, I have Dimples’ body in front of my eyes. He was still warm, as if he had continued the nap. He will be warm for a long time; his fire must gradually fade away. Then I can burn him. But for now, he still sleeps, and I can pretend that I will wake him up by calling his name at the gate once I’m back.

May 11th

Yesterday, I made the mistake of sharing the reason for my sadness with a sympathetic-looking bartender. Apparently, “these woods are infested with dragons,” so I can “snatch up a new one any time.” Sure.

May 14th

I found him at the inn half a day from the capital. His entourage was drinking and singing around the fireplace, and no one kept watch, so when I burst into the caravan, he was all alone, lying on the makeshift bed, prepping his left leg against the wall, blood-soaked cloth wrapped around it. I could’ve killed him and disappeared without a trace, but something compelled me to tell him why I was there and subsequently ask him why he did the thing that brought me to his demise. I was weary, stricken with grief and anger. Perhaps if I heard a solid justification, it would be easier. Maybe he was fed false stories about me. Maybe another dragon killed his whole family. Maybe his king’s father did not love him and wanted to prove his worth by becoming a famous Dragonslayer.

“Milady, I saw the beast, and I was absolutely convinced that you were in dire need of rescue!” he cried with an unnatural inflection.

All right then, there went my goodwill. “You could have simply asked me if it was indeed true,” I articulated slowly and clearly as I was convinced he was strongly fortified against wit.

He looked at me, genuinely confused. I think it was the first time someone suggested such a solution to him.

“Or read the signs, for that matter. I assume you can read!” I shouted, losing any control of the tears.

“I can, but I don’t like to,” he murmured.

That was it; I drew the bowstring and pointed at his chest.

“What on Earth are you doing? Where is this coming from?! Guards!” Pure panic glanced into his eyes.

“I just told you. You killed Dimples,” I said, getting very concerned about his cognitive powers once again. I heard his companions coming out of the tavern. I still had plenty of time to do what I came for. Instead, I walked away.

May 17th

I am not in any way in a hurry to get back home. Once I am there, I need to say goodbye to Dimples. So, I wandered a little through the forests and ruined castles that I used to visit with my father. All the men that appear in my life are either oblivious or malicious. I have no clue if it is the right thing to do to offer mercy to the first kind. Is there any way they might learn if they don’t suffer? At the end of the day, they can be a fierce Dragonslayer instead of a clueless murderer, and no one is the wiser.