Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Day Ninety-Seven: Chilled to the scales

Sweet. Humble. Gods. Of. The. Kingdom.

Logan's right. It was worse. I'm guarding the king's dragon.

I get the feeling I did something wrong, diary. Maybe the king's still blaming me for wrecking the castle when I tried to heal everyone? Maybe he doesn't like me 'cause I was part of that goofy thing with Logan wanting to be a knight? Maybe somebody else doesn't and they suggested I be stuck at the top of the castle's tower with a FREAKING DRAGON?

I'm panting. Gah. My head hurts. I need to calm down. I found grey hairs on my head this morning, diary, I SWEAR. And don't just say I'm mistaking my blonde hair for grey, 'cause I know the difference! I KNOW, diary!

I also know that the captain is an ass and a hole, because he didn't TELL me what I was gonna be doing. He led me personally to the king's tower, up the stairs, past the royal apartments - I've never been closer to the king's quarters, and gods do they look nice from thirty feet away - and then up, up, up to the top of that bloody spire, until I was face-to-face with a door.

He told me to open it, and cuffed me on the back of the head. He seemed so merry. I should have known what was coming.

Then I was by the dragon, and Captain Cedric slammed the door and LOCKED IT, saying he'd be back in the morning. I just had to look after the dragon for a while. A few hours. Eight hours.

Eight… hours.

The dragon is massive, diary. It's not like the king went out and bought a tiny little thing. IT'S AN ADULT. Green, scaly, wings brushing the walls, just small enough to fit in the huge castle attic… bigger than a house, easily… as soon as I got inside it just stared at me, and I stared back, 'cause I couldn't move. Could not move an inch, diary.

And I did that for eight hours. I was afraid to look away in case it took that as a dangerous move and tried to eat me. And, yes, I peed myself, as usual - which kinda helped, 'cause the top of the tower is open to the world on one side, and the wind and snow kept blowing in. I needed the extra warmth, lemme tell you.

The dragon didn't move. It just stared with those weird, milky eyes, and eventually the captain came up and told me to go home. I couldn't move, though, and he had to chip me out of the ice. At least he did THAT much.

I'm not sleeping yet, diary. I'm in the communal baths, writing in you. I needed to warm up something fierce. I'll probably get another cold at this rate.

I dunno why the dragon didn't eat me. Maybe it couldn't move 'cause of all the chains keeping it in place. Hell, maybe it's frozen solid and already dead. But I saw it breathing, so…

Yeah. I'm gonna be dragon poop by the end of the week. You just watch.

Please put my feet in a fire,

Dragomir the Popsicle

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