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Despite the long journey, the caravan was still in as bright spirits entering the border town as they were when they left the capital two weeks prior. How could they not be, when they were carrying Princess Yukimi of Kalmia to her wedding to Prince Lune of Katzea.
Much of that joy was carried by the Princess herself, and Haru couldn't help fondly watching her dearest friend sitting across from her in the carriage. She hadn't stopped smiling since they set out, and it was wider right now, certainly from thoughts of her betrothed as she embroidered a sash intended for Prince Lune to wear on their wedding day.
Haru’s own thoughts turned that way as well, as she worked on her own embroidery. Theirs was a storybook romance, starting with a betrothal in infancy, spending every summer in each other’s company and exchanging letters the rest of the year. Haru had only become Yuki’s lady-in-waiting when they were twelve and ten respectively, but it still allowed her to watch as friendship turned to puppy love, then into the steady kind that would only deepen with time and age.
Those two will be old and grey and so sickeningly in love their grandchildren will giggle in disgust, she thought, and her heart gave a wistful twist, as she couldn’t help but hope for a love like that one day.
Sudden shouting and screaming jolted Haru from her musings, and a moment later the carriage’s sudden stop almost rocked her out of her seat. Yuki almost fell from hers, only saved by her mother catching her. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Empress Rinka said, righting her daughter in her seat before knocking on the side of the carriage. “What’s happening out there?”
“A- A dragon, your majesty!” one of the guardsmen said, his voice cracking and just audible over the sounds of the panicking townsfolk outside. “It just rose out of the river and wrapped itself around the bridge. It- anyone looking at it is freezing in place!”
“Petrification?” Yuki asked. “I’ve heard of no dragon with such magic.”
“None in Kalmia, but dragons of other lands have other gifts,” Haru reminded her. “Is the dragon attacking?”
“N-no. It’s just sitting on the bridge, looking about.” The noise outside dimmed, and the guardsman grew more confident. “It hasn’t reached for anyone it petrified, nor lashed out at any buildings.”
“The dragon must have reason to reveal itself,” Rinka said, pursing her lips in thought.
“I can ask,” Haru said immediately, to the obvious surprise of the royals.
“Haru, its dangerous,” Yuki said. “We don’t know the dragon’s intentions.”
“And we won’t unless someone asks.” Haru stood, smoothing out her blue kimono. “I will use the utmost respect and caution, and if that fails… Better myself than either of you, your highness.” Haru was, after all, the daughter of a third-tier lord who just happened to befriend the princess. She’d hate to think the consequences if the emperor’s beloved empress and dearest child were lost to a dragon, on such an auspicious journey.
“Haru-”
“Let her go, Yukimi,” Rinka said, nodding her head to Haru. “We await your return, honored niece.”
Haru smiled, and stepped out of the carriage. The guardsman - Hashio, she could see now - gave her a worried look, but still fell into step behind her as she walked towards the dragon.
The square was a strange and terrifying tableau. A wide square separated the border bridge from the town proper, one which would likely be filled with stalls of foods and goods on market days. Instead, the frozen forms of guardsmen, from the caravan and the town, were scattered about, some with weapons drawn, others turned as if to flee. A few of those mounted were frozen with their horses, one reared back with its forelegs kicking out. Straight ahead, its head lowered and watching, was the dragon.
It was objectively a beautiful beast, she noted first off. Golden scales on the upper half of its long serpentine body, ivory on its underside up to the chin of its felinesque head. Large ears surrounded by a ruff of fur, a black triangle of nostrils over its fanged mouth, whiskers even. All she couldn’t tell was the color and shape of its eyes, for she intentionally avoided looking at them, lowering her gaze as she approached.
She stopped about twenty feet from the dragon, dipping into a deep bow. “Hail, Great Dragon,” she said, her Katzen a little rough, but her voice strong and clear.
A snuffling sound, then a voice, masculine but lighter than she’d expected, spoke. “Who approaches?”
“Lady Haru Yoshioka, lady to Princes Yukimi of Kalmia. My mistress asks why you have blocked our path and petrified our guards. If it is a wrong we have committed, we wish to know how to correct it.”
The dragon shifted ahead of her, she could see its shadow move. “Raise your head, Lady Haru.”
She did, and gasped at seeing the dragon’s head had lowered to be level with and near her own. Though she couldn’t be sure if the gasp was for the closeness or for how dazzling its eyes were. Sparkling green the exact shade of emeralds, she would not be surprised if someone told her they actually were made of the stone. Luckily, she collected her thoughts in time to hear the dragon’s answer.
“Inform your mistress that she may not pass, for it is not time for her marriage.”
Haru’s eyes widened, and she barely held her manners in asking “What do you mean? This wedding day has been set for years.”
“The only wedding to be held is mine. ‘The elder weds before the younger,’ so is Tradition.”
A thrum went through Haru at the dragon’s words. Tradition was held in high reverence, and to betray them would cast misfortune on those who went against it. But for the elder to wed before the younger, that would mean…
“I will inform my mistress at once.” She bowed again and started to walk backwards, only to bump into Hashio. She turned, and found him petrified, his spear raised in a defensive posture. “Please release our guards.”
“They shall be freed in a half-hour, so long as they do not try to attack me.”
That was a reasonable request, so Haru simply moved around Hashio, and headed back to the carriage.
“What did the dragon want?” Rinka asked as she climbed in.
“He said he won’t let us pass, as it’s not time for Yuki’s marriage.”
“What? Why?” Yuki asked.
“Because Tradition dictates ‘the elder weds before the younger’.”
“Lune is an only child. He dosn’t have any siblings, elder or younger.”
“That is what the dragon said, and I felt the certainty of his words.”
“We need answers,” Rinka said. “Will he free our guards?”
“The petrification will wear off in a half-hour, he said.”
Rinka nodded and stood. “Haru, see about getting us lodging. I will speak with the dragon about letting a messenger ride to Katzenburg, so we can get answers from Pheobus and Perdita.”
Haru bowed and stepped out of the carriage again. Hopefully the King and Queen Felinus would have an answer for them.
It took four days for a response to come from the Felinus royal family, in the form of them riding down from the capital. The border lord was more than happy to host the imperial caravan in his home, and had one of his servants watching the bridge every hour for the messenger. The dragon, upon receiving Rinka sworn promise to not try and sneak Yuki across the bridge, had retreated, allowing travel and trade to resume as normal, until Prince Lune attempted to cross the bridge with his parents. Then, the dragon rose again and blocked the bridge, freezing the Katzen guards, the prince and the king. Only Queen Perdita and one of her guard were allowed to cross to meet with them.
The first thing Queen Perdita did upon entering the sitting room where they were to take tea was kneel on the floor and bow to Rinka and Yuki. “I can only offer my deepest and most sincere apologies to you, your majesty, for it was my mistakes that have led us here.”
Rinka’s face held her imperial impassivity, but Haru had known her long enough to sense the confusion at the other Queen’s actions and words. “How so, your highness?”
Queen Perdita sat back on her heels. “The dragon’s words are true; he is my firstborn son.”
The queen then shared her tale: how after years of trying and failing for a child, a woodswitch gave her instructions to grow two roses to eat, a golden one for a son, a silver for a daughter. How she’d chosen to eat the golden, but it tasted to delicious she couldn’t stop herself from also eating the silver. How she gave birth while the king was away, and how the first child was a golden serpent hatchling, while the second was human. How she’d ordered the midwife and assisting mades to hide the dragonling far away, and claimed the human child as the only heir when the king returned.
“I never thought I’d see my firstborn again, until three months ago, when we announced the date for Lune and Yuki’s wedding.” Queen Perdita had tears in her emerald green eyes by this point, gently dabbing at them with her handkerchief. “The next day, a golden lindworm broke into the throne room and demanded a bride. When my husband was convinced of our firstborn’s claim to marriage, he ordered the daughter of our most impoverished baron to the palace. They were wed, but the next morning, the daughter had disappeared, with no more than a torn bridal gown remaining. Her poor father died of heartbreak, and again the lindworm demanded a bride, while also claiming the baron’s title for his own.
“Pheobus next ordered the daughter of our greatest lord wed the lindworm, and once more only her bridal gown was found. Now all the lords have sent their daughters away, and Phoebus refuses to let his son marry a commoner, which I believe is the only reason we haven't had mobs swarming the palace. I think Phoebus was planning to either force Princess Yuki to marry our firstborn, or hoping two brides would be enough.” Queen Perdita bowed once more. “I beg you, your majesty, please help me find a bride who can be wed alongside Princess Yuki, so that our children can join in union, as always planned.”
Rinka led her anger show through her mask. “You expect me to ask my husband to order a daughter of Kalmia to die in her wedding bed? To clean up your mistake that you had eighteen years to correct? I have half a mind to order the betrothal broken, if I didn’t know that doing so could make my daughter die of a broken heart.”
Queen Perdita flinched under every harsh word, and her voice cracked with her pleas. “There is no one else I can ask. Without a double wedding, the house of Felinus will fall, and Katzea soon after. Please, help me save my family.”
Haru’s heartstrings had been pulled all through the foreign queen’s story, but this was the breaking straw.
“I’ll do it.”
Everyone’s heads whipped towards her so quickly, she worried they’d hurt themselves. Queen Perdita looked like she hadn’t even realized Haru had been in the room until just then. “You- you will?”
“Haru, no!” Yuki jumped up and grabbed her hands. “I forbid you from sacrificing yourself for me.”
“I don’t intend to be a sacrifice,” Haru said, squeezing Yuki’s hands. “But this union has been long soughed after and wished for, on all sides. I want you to have all the happiness possible, and if a wedding night with a dragon is what’s called of me, I will do so.”
“Are you certain, Haru?” Rinka asked, and Haru could see the concern in her eyes, the maternal affection that had eased her through a youth defined by the loss of her own mother.
“I am, your majesty.”
“Very well.” Rinka turned back to Perdita. “Inform your sons and husband the double wedding will be held on schedule, but don’t expect your firstborn’s bride to be as well ornamented as is customary.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Queen Perdita stood and bowed deeply, first to Rinka, then to Haru and Yuki. “Anything you need that is in my power to give is yours, just say the word. For as long as possible, I would call you daughter, if you’d allow it.”
Haru stood, gently pushing Yuki back, and took the queen’s hands in her own. “I thank you, mother.” A thought occurred to her then, and an idea started forming in her mind. “There is one thing you can give me in this moment.”
“What is that?”
“The location of the woods where you met the witch.”
Once the dragon - The Baron of Gikkingen, as he was now known - confirmed that he indeed had a bride, and had taken another oath to not trick him out of Haru’s hand, he let the caravan pass, stating he would make his own way to Katzenburg Palace and meet Haru at the alter. This was a relief for the entire party, as they weren’t certain how the horses would take to traveling with such a great predator, and for Haru specifically, for her idea would be easier to accomplish if she didn’t have to entertain her husband to be.
The words felt strange to think, let alone say aloud. She had not expected the day she’d say those words to come so soon, and certainly not in these circumstances. Then again, she doubted anyone could have expected to become the bride of a dragon who should have been a prince. It was a tale of legend, a story parents would tell their children to entertain and teach. She could only hope her role in the story was of the triumphant heroine and not the poor sacrifice.
A half day’s ride from Katzenburg, the caravan stopped at an inn for the night, and after their luggage was brought to the room, Haru searched through for her simplest kimono. As she changed, Yuki sat on the room’s bed. “Do you really have to go alone?” she asked. “Hashio, or Lune could go with you. I would too, if Mother would allow me.”
Haru shook her head, tying her simple obi in front. “I have better odds of finding the witch if I go alone. I will be careful, and I doubt any bandits would dare linger near here with the rumor of a man-eating dragon about.”
“Don’t joke about that, please.”
Haru turned to her dearest friend, and saw the worry in her eyes. She crossed the room and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I will do my best to stay safe and be careful. With luck, I’ll be back before the sun fully sets.”
Yuki hugged her back. “You’d better, or I’m sending the guard after you, witch or no witch.”
Haru pulled away from the hug, and after one more reassurance, left the room and the inn, heading southwest, to where Queen Perdita had said she’d been riding when the witch met her.
The whole way, she pondered her predicament, and how she could only hope for the assistance of someone with knowledge to the folk magics of Katzea. A desperate plea to the world to save her and any future brides from a grisly wedding night.
“You look troubled, my dear.”
She whirled around at the sound of the voice - feminine and creaky like wind bending the branches of a tree. A old woman with a basket stood before her, tall with a head almost too large for her body, her face dominated by a hooked nose and a red dot in between her eyes. Her grey-blonde hair was pulled up in a coifed bun, a red broach pinned at the high collar of her fine blue dress, golden disks hung from her ears, and an assortment of rings adorning her fingers. Even if she didn’t perfectly match the description Queen Perdita had given her, the energy about her could not be mistaken.
“I have much to be troubled with, Lady Yubaba.” She bowed to the witch, who chuckled.
“I’m not my sister, sweet girl. Were I her, I’d be offering you a harsh deal to solve them.”
Haru tried not to frown as she straightened. “Then what may I call you, my lady?”
“For you, my dear, I can be Granny Zeniba, if”- she raised her basket -”you will join me for some tea, and tell me the woes that sent you seeking my sister.”
“Could you solve a problem your sister caused?”
“I feel like that’s half my life these days.” Granny Zeniba beckoned with her free hand. “Come along, my dear.”
A part of Haru was wary of the demand, but the majority felt it was a small price to pay for the chance to save her life. So she walked up and offered her arm to Zeniba’s free one. “Lead the way, Granny.”
“Such nice manners.” Zeniba took the arm and led her further into the forest.
She didn’t return to the inn until an hour after dark, but the worried scolding from Yuki, Rinka and Perdita was well worth the knowledge of how to ensure she survived her wedding night. And when she shared the instructions she’d been given, they were all to eager to make preparations right away.
Two weeks later, the wedding day had arrived. Haru and Yuki woke before sunrise so the maids, both their own and the ones assigned to them by Queen Perdita, could prepare them properly. Baths to scrub any and all traces of dirt from their bodies, lotions rubbed into their skin to make them as soft as a babe’s, oils and pins and combs to shape their hair into style, brushes and powders and paints to make their faces as beautiful as any porcelain doll.
The bridal kimono were the final touch, and once on, Haru felt like she couldn’t recognize herself in the mirror when she was placed in front of it. A bright golden outer uchikake with trailing sleeves and hem, worn open over an diamond white furisode, belted closed with a golden obi. Both of the silks were plain, for the short notice of their need, but no less beautiful for it.
“Oh, Haru, you’re beautiful!” Yuki said, standing next to her in her own pink and ivory. Unlike Haru’s, hers were richly patterned with cranes and koi, gold threads sparkling in the light.
“I should say the same of you, Yuki.” Haru gave a smile. “Prince Lune will be too stunned to speak his vows once he sees you.”
“I can only hope your own groom is similarly impressed,” Rinka said, coming up behind the girls in her own crimson kimono. “It is not the wedding we had envisioned, but we have risen to the occasion.” She looked down at Haru, eyes shining with affection as she pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m honored to be standing with you this day.”
She melted into the hug and returned it just as fiercely. “Thank you, your majesty.”
“Auntie. You will officially be family after today, after all.”
Haru felt her eyes well up, and blinked furiously to keep the maids from having to redo her makeup. “Auntie.”
Yuki joined the hug on Haru’s other side. “You’ve been my sister for longer than today. This only lets the world recognize it.”
Haru freed an arm to pat at Yuki’s. “The same from here, Yuki.”
They held the hug for a few moments more, then Rinka pulled back. “We must make our way to the chapel. It won’t be long now.”
She was right, for within the hour, Haru found herself standing at the alter, The Baron at her right side, Lune and Yuki on her left, as the priest gave the wedding sermon. He had shrunk a fair bit from their first meeting, to better fit in the palace halls, but was still twenty feet in length, six of which stood upright next to her while the rest stretched out down the aisle. His scales gleamed and his emerald eyes never left her, the weight of his gaze as heavy as her kimono.
When the rings were to be exchanged, Haru instead had a golden chain to place around her husband’s neck, a matching one to go around herself. If this had been how The Baron wed his first two brides, Haru couldn’t help but see the symbolism of it all.
At last, the vows were said, and kisses exchanged to seal the marriages, and she couldn’t help feeling surprised at how gently The Baron was when he nuzzled his muzzle against her. Had he been this tender with his prior brides too?
If asked afterwards, Haru could not properly recall a single thing that happened during the wedding banquet. She ate and she talked and she watched the dancers and performers out on the floor, but it was all a jewel-toned haze in her mind, all her focus on what would happen when she and her husband went to their bridal suite.
Finally, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the time came for the happy couples to retire for the night. When Haru stood from her seat, The Baron lowered himself down next to her. “Climb on, my bride.”
She was once more surprised by his tenderness, but did as asked, inelegantly mounted him, grabbing onto his fur ruff. Once she did, The Baron bolted from the banquet hall, the doors flying open and slamming shut as they passed, fast enough Haru couldn’t recognize any of halls before they were in the bridal suite.
The door shut and locked behind them, with all the gravity of a mausoleum.
Haru slid from The Baron’s back, and once her slippers touched the floor, he circled her, his eyes seeming to burn with emerald flame.
“Shed your dress,” he ordered, and she couldn’t help the shiver down her spine that his growl gave her.
“If I must disrobe, you must too, my husband,” she told him. “Shed your skin.”
The look of surprise on his face was almost human, but he nodded. “As my bride wishes.” He dove to the bed, and rubbed his scales against the posts of the bed. After a moment, she could see the top layer of his scales lifting from his body, and so she ducked into the bathing chamber, and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing all her preparations in place. A basin of lye, soaking a leather cowherd’s whip, and a basin of milk, soaking a stack of wash cloths.
She turned back to The Baron just as he finished shedding the skin, dropping it to the floor. In the fading light, his scales were duller, no longer mirror bright but still shining. In turn, she removed her uchikake, draping the golden cloth over his skin.
His eyes narrowed when he saw her still dressed. “Shed your dress,” he ordered again.
“If I must disrobe, you must too, my husband,” she told him again. “Shed your skin.”
A growl built in his throat, but he did as commanded, rubbing at the bed posts once more. When he finished his shed, he dropped the skin to the floor again, and was just the slightest bit duller. In turn, Haru untied her obi, then pulled her furisode off and placed it with her uchikake. Beneath she wore another kimono, a thin and white as snow, with a simple sash holding it closed.
His eyes narrowed at her new layer. “Shed your dress,” he ordered again.
“If I must describe, you must too, my husband,” she told him again. “Shed your skin.”
Six more times they repeated the ritual; she stripped her next layer of cloth and he his next layer of scale. With each layer lost, their colors both grew duller, snow to ivory to champagne to blush to ecru to tan to grey, gold and ivory to pale yellow and eggshell white. When Haru at last stood in her undyed undergarments, The Baron lay collapsed on the bed, with no more energy to even demand her to shed.
“My bride, come to bed,” he commanded, but his voice was so thin and soft, it sounded more like a plea.
“In a minute, my husband,” she said, and headed to the bathing chamber for the basins. Setting them atop her pile of gowns, she picked up the whip, and before The Baron could ask what she was doing, she spun around and cracked it across his body.
The Baron screamed, a harsh, shrill sound that echoed in the bridal chamber. An angry red welt rose on his skin, blood beading along it. “Wife, you wound me.”
Haru didn’t answer him, already dipping the whip back in the lye and striking him again. Again, The Baron screamed, and a welt rose, and again she readied for the next. Nine times she struck him, and when she dropped the whip among the shed skins and cloth on the floor, her eyes had overflowed with tears. She picked up the basin of milk and carried it to the bedside.
“Wife, what further tortures do you have for me.”
“Not much more, husband,” she assured him, and used the first of the cloths to wash his head.
Down his body she washed him, hearing his hisses as she wiped his welts, discarding each cloth as it turned pink from the blood and milk. With the ninth cloth, she finished his tail, and dropped it among the skins and cloth. Then she circled the bed again, and climbed up next to her husband. His emerald eyes were half closed, and looked at her with such agony, even the hardest hearts would soften.
Haru’s heart was not hardened, and she had no trouble following Granny Zeniba’s last instruction, gathering The Baron’s head into her lap and wrapping her arms and torso around him in a hug.
“Wife, you would hold me still?” he asked.
“This night and every night, so long as you’d have me,” she said, her eyes drifting closed, and in moments she fell into a deep sleep.
The sun shining through the window woke Haru the next morning, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d truly not survived the night, if this was some afterlife she’d been awarded for her bravery. But she felt a weight on her stomach, and opening her eyes showed the canopy of the wedding bed above her.
She slowly sat up, looked down, and saw a head of golden hair and incredibly handsome face resting in her lap. Following the length of the body revealed a man, naked as a newborn, thin golden lines crossing over him in the unmistakable scars of a whip. She blushed and frowned flipping the covers over him the best she could. Her other hand carded through his hair, the same length and thickness as the dragon’s had been.
The rising sun’s beams crept across the bed, until they fell across the man’s eyes. They fluttered open, and the emerald green could only belong to The Baron.
“Haru?” he asked, his voice hoarse and weak and afraid.
Haru smiled at him. “Good morning, husband.”
The Baron pushed himself up, wobbling enough that Haru reached out to steady him as he did. Which gave him the chance to look down at his hands, and his body, and when he finally looked back at her face, tears flowed down his face.
“I’m free. You freed me!” He hugged her with enough force to almost send her back onto the mattress, but all she cared was to wrap her own arms around him as he sobbed out his joy, and she added her own tears to the mess.
When they both finally calmed enough to pull away from each other, The Baron still kept hold of her hands, as if he worried she’d disappear without the contact.
“How did you know to do this?”
“Granny Zeniba told me, when I sought her out to learn how survive my wedding night.” Haru glanced at him, then away to the skins on the floor. “Though I don’t know if we still are wed, since my vows were given to the lindworm.”
“I- Well, I would not know either.” The Baron sounded bashful in his answer. “But wed or not, I would request leave to court you, if you’re so willing.”
“Truly?” Haru turned to him. “You would court me?”
“If you would allow me to, which is the greater question.” His emerald eyes sparkled, bright as the gems they resembled. “You offered to be my bride, knowing the fates of the others. You have been more courteous to me than any could ask or expect. And beyond all of that, you saved me from the skin of the beast. I would wish to know the woman brave enough to do these things.”
Haru blushed at the praise, which felt higher than it should be for the acts she did. “I would allow it.”
Before more words could be said, a knock on the door and the turning of a key announced the arrival of guests to the bridal chambers. When the servants opened the door, they found Lady Haru drawing on her last kimono, while The Baron wrapped himself in the sheets for decency. When the word spread that not only had the bride survived the night, but had in fact freed the lindworm from his curse, there was much rejoicing.
The celebrations lasted for weeks, feasts and festivals and ceremonies first honoring Haru for her bravery, then honoring the naming of Prince Humbert Felinus, the Baron of Gikkingen, then the announcement of Prince Lune and Princess Yuki’s first child.
As surmised, it was decided the marriage between Haru and The Baron had ended with the shedding of the lindworm’s skin. The pair minded little, for it just gave an excuse for a proper courtship, and two years after their first wedding, they held their second, more lavish and extravagant and far far happier. And so they lived for the rest of their days.