Princesses fighting dragons

Date: 3/24/2020

I had a dream that started with me, my brother, and my brothers friends (aiden and Noah) playing what seemed to be an FPS but in real life. It started off kind of like a CoD zombies game where we were fighting humanoids first, then slowly more ‘waves’ of them came, and during like the third ‘wave’ or so there started to be bigger baddies to fight; first hellhound like creatures, then skeleton hellhound creatures, then finally, dragons, which were literal tanks that dealt almost as much damage as they could take (which was a LOT). I’m gonna take the time to describe the monsters I can remember because for some reason the image of them is almost stuck in my head but the rest of the story is below this, and the description has absolutely no plot value, so... the hellhounds were black, generally resembling a Dobermann, except purely black, and absolutely MASSIVE. Their shiny fur was randomly interrupted by long scars that were literally burning with crimson flame, looking like weird gills, wounds that bled fire stretching across their ribcages and stitching underneath of their bellies, crossing over making ‘X’s and pulsing with the rhythm of the flickering light. Their paws were bigger than seemed normal, their fur especially matter down there, and they had long, shiny yellowed claws at least four inches long and an inch thick, each one honed to a razor-sharp edge. But their faces were the worst. They had two burly horns, curling out next to their ears like strange antlers, and below that their eyes burned a deep, bloody red, glowing like hot coals in a fire, all red without pupils except for the sliver of white at the edges of the eyes. Their mouths opened in snarls that stretched wide, so wide that their jaws had to be unhinging, revealing teeth longer, thicker and sharper than their claws, gleaming ivory with suspiciously violent red stains at the edges, bleeding gums that were a vicious bubblegum into a deep red coral, tongue pulled back as they growl, a deep rumble like the earth itself quaking; saliva dripped from their mouth in long strings, sometimes bursting with small flames, and when their eyes focused on you unblinking the rest of the world seemed to shrink a little. Around their necks they had spiked collars, as if they weren’t already scary enough. The skeletal versions of them were similarly shaped, and the bones were charred and mostly black, as if being in hell had burnt them up. Their mouths were wider, teeth and claws sharper, and when they moved it made an awful clinking, clacking noise, rattling deeply and hollowly. They were otherwise silent, except when they got close you could hear the flames which burned on random bones, flaring up from inside of their empty eye sockets and shooting up from one or two ribs like snakes, twisting and climbing along their bodies until they were a pure fireball with bared teeth and inhuman speed. The best and at the same time, worst creatures, were the dragons. They were so big that they dwarfed the hellhounds, which were bigger than a car each. Try to picture it like this; imagine a decent sized family house. Now imagine it on a hill. That was roughly half the size of the dragons when they opened their wings and rose from the ground. Their scales varied in color, but more often than not they were a slightly grayish blue, almost a teal, a very beautiful color really, yet an uncommon one at that. Each scale was the size of a small dinner plate, or bigger, and when the dragons turned the scales shimmered in the sun; they didn’t reflect light, instead they seemed to carry it, like a matte material that somehow shined as well. The dragons had massive claws which were almost the size of a small child, that left scars along the dirt and stone when they landed, and each one had an incredibly pointed end. The wings were perhaps the only fragile part of the dragon, thin and paper-like, almost see-through when up against the sun; you could spot veins, each one just barely thicker around than a flagpole, crawling along the surface of the wing, and thick, wiry muscles worked all along the wing’s edges and interior. Even then, the material of the wings was so thick and strong that even an arrow would merely bounce off. The dragon’s head was cool as hell, though, where the scales curved inwards to form two small horns above the eyes and a few on the snout, where two large nostrils flared and smoked, and it’s eyes- two deepset, shadowed sockets- were a dangerous yellow, beady and unblinking, watchful like a hawk, with pupils like a cats and a glazed expression like a snake. When it opened its jaws you just barely had time to see massive teeth as big as a person, yellowed and curved wickedly, some chipped or serrated, surrounding a blood red tongue and throat, and a sort of sack pulsing at the back of the throat, bringing something out of it, spraying something perhaps- before a giant column of flames would erupt from the dragons mouth, devouring everything in front of it. The flames travelled so far you could barely see the end of it, and they were so wide that they could easily swallow up and devour a small building, leaving only ashes and charred brick behind, melting with liquified mortar. The dragons moved with an agility and grace you wouldn’t expect, tails thrashing dangerously so that both ends of the dragon were fighting for it. They leapt, charged, climbed, and even slunk around on the grass almost exactly like a cat; even when they flew, the movements of their limbs reminded you of the grace and deep power of a feline. When they would fly into the air, each beat of their wings sent currents of wind down across the land, so strong that you had to hold on to something to avoid being swept away. Anyways, in the dream I had kind of been dragged into this fight, and for some reason all we had to use were medieval weapons. Everyone immediately went for maxes or crossbows or heavy, plated armor, but I decided to choose a simple sturdy leather helm and chest plate, some sort of strong metal boots, and a nice looking sword. The sword wasn’t exactly powerful looking, but it was very sturdy and surprising light for its length and size; the handle was comfortable in my hand and I could carry it well. For good measure I took a second, smaller sword and sheathed it across my back. When the fight started, I hung back, mainly trying to evaluate what would work and how I was going to use both the terrain and my weapons to my advantage. Like normal, my brother and his friends charged in, dealing heavy damage and receiving heavy damage, too. They tried to get the most kills and as a result of the competition they were very risky with their moves, and by the looks of it they weren’t really using much strategy either. One of the boys, aiden, ended up nearly dying because he tried to take on a bunch of hellhounds on his own. However, when the dragons started coming in, it’s like we switched roles. All of a sudden the boys hung back, formulating and trying to strategize (being especially careful considering how much damage they had already taken), whereas I just charged in and let instinct take over. I ended up duel-wielding my swords, using one to block or parry attacks and using the other to make my own offensive moves. When the dragons came around they were pretty much the only opponents though, so I ended up fighting two or three dragons in a row before I even came across any humanoid creatures of any hellhounds. I simply dodged and blocked and ran, until an opportunity would come up; the dragon would beat its wings right next to me to try and get itself in the air, or it would swoop extra low to try and gouge me with its talons; it would open its mouth to release a burst of flame and I’d be close enough to both dodge and get an attack in while it was still regurgitating the fire; it would try to grab me with its long claws and miss, sending its foot straight past me where I could easily reach the vulnerable spot right where the claws grew out of the foot, a small area where no scales grew at all; and somehow I managed to kill an impressive amount of dragons. Then the ‘game’ ended and I ended up getting VIP, a first place sort of podium, because killing the dragons was apparently worth more than all of the other creatures the rest of the boys had killed combined. I was kind of mad that I got VIP or whatever because then the boys were mad at me but I was whatever about it. Then the dream changed. In a way. My brother and his friends had decided to go elsewhere, leaving me in this world with dragons and humanoids and things to fight, where I could actually fight them pretty well too. I ended up going to this sort of parlor that seemed to be for famous people, or more specifically for princesses. People came far and wide to see the princesses and the princesses would wave and do normal princess things. However, in this world, the princesses were also a sort of 911 for creatures, especially dragons. If a hellhound decides to make your barn it’s new home? You called the princesses over. A humanoid army is marching on an innocent, unarmed town? A few princesses will take care of it. A dragon stole all your gold and your wife and three kids? The princesses will handle it, all while wearing ball gowns and heels, and afterwards they’ll wave at you with gloved hands, smile with lips done up with makeup, and batter their eyelashes, polite-as-you-please, telling you they handled it and wiping dirt and hellhound guts from their shimmery blue dresses. I was one of these princesses, but I was a sort of ‘newbie’- that is I had just arrived and everyone, having heard of my fighting and also of the fact that I happened to be a girl with naturally long hair and eyelashes, just up and decided that I was now a princess. I was confused and kind of mad, especially considering the fact that I HATE dresses and heels and makeup, but the fact that I got to help save people and that I would get a free house and food and stuff in return kind of nulled me a bit. They dressed me up in a big, poofy pink gown, which was silky and had skirts that made the bottom flow out like a mushroom, and they waxed my legs (which hurt 😖) and my arms (WHICH HURT MORE 😫) and put me in some white stockings, gloves, and some glossy pink heels, and eventually they even did my makeup. I fought against it but they insisted, so eventually we settled on simple stuff- they did concealer or whatever the basic stuff is, then some nude eyeshadow, and some bright, baby pink lipstick that made my lips look kind of luscious. Then they pulled my hair in a style that brought out its natural curls at the end, a slight ponytail with a braid encircling my head like a crown, and two strands on either side of my face left out to frame the whole thing. As a final touch they even put a jeweled necklace and rings on me. They tried to do my nails but I strait up threatened to scratch them if they tried; I’m a lesbian, after all, and that was the one thing I wouldn’t let them touch. Not to mention I wasn’t gonna fight monsters with nails so long I could barely hold a sword. Then they paraded me around the streets with a pretty girl who had dark, smooth skin, an angled face, beautiful green eyes and a very pretty (but also poofy) baby blue dress. We waved and blessed old ladies and kissed babies, and I managed not to fall on my heels which is a miracle in and of itself; but then another princess ran out, green dress billowing behind her, brown hair falling out of her bun gracefully, and told us that there were three dragons coming straight for us. Or, more particularly, for me, to get revenge for the ones I had killed. I get kind of embarrassed but nobody seems to notice or to even care. The two princesses look at each other and nod, and the old man who has been parading us around goes back inside of the mountain- where our castle is- and starts alerting all the princesses. I try to keep up with them, but they’re running and I can’t run in heels. I can barely walk in them. So in frustration I rip them off and snap the heels off, transforming them into flats, and sprint into the castle after the others. Inside, princesses are running around, arming themselves. One princess in a tight-fitting red traditional dress grabs a ginormous pair of nunchucks and swings them around once, as if to test them, and I’m immediately like “I don’t wanna mess with HER.” She charges out of the castle, nunchucks bared, and I release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. In front of me another girl, this one with red hair who strongly resembles a more elegant version of Meredith from ‘Brave’, takes a freaking claymore from its sheath on the wall and swings it around to rest on her shoulder while she waits for another princess to finish arming herself, casual as can be, and suddenly I find myself wondering how massive her arms must be to lift that thing. The princess she’s waiting for, who’s literally just real life Mulan, takes a bow and a quiver and slings them over her back, nodding to the redhead, and they run out of the castle together, the redhead in front, Mulan in the back for support. All around me complete badass princesses prepare for a fight, and I suddenly realize that I’m one of them. I go over to the wall, which has a giant rack of weapons along it, and search for something like my sword. I know my actual sword has to be around here somewhere because the people running this castle took it from me when they were making me up into a princess. Suddenly I feel a tap on my arm and turn. A pretty brunette with hazel eyes (wearing a long, dragging white dress that’s currently pinned up at her waist, and a lot of pearl jewelry) points over to where I see both of my swords hanging side by side. “Thanks!” I say, rushing over to them and grabbing the whole sheath. I notice that they’ve been shined up and polished, and probably enchanted, based on the purplish glow they’re emitting. I go to thank the brunette but she’s already leaving, a spiked ball on a chain swirling in the air beside her as she swings it like a yo-yo. I grab both swords and run out to the village, where the people remaining outside are in a state of panic. Princesses line the streets, some poised outside of buildings ready to defend the inhabitants, others in the streets, looking up at three slowly growing specks. The dragons. I run over to the street and assess my surroundings, looking for somewhere to fight. Suddenly I notice a tall, yet very wide building, a perfect place to fight the dragons while ensuring that nobody down below in the village is harmed. I sheath one sword on my back and run over to the building, craning my neck. As the dragons get closer I feel the invisible timer ticking down, tick, tick, less and less time that I have until they arrive. Sweating, and wishing that I had actual battle gear on, I stick my shoes into the cracks of the brick and start to climb. Tick, tick, the dragons get closer every moment, and I climb faster, that pit in my stomach urging me to go, faster, faster, or I’ll never make it, faster! Finally I reach the top, panting, and just in time. Three dragons climb down from the sky towards the village, each one sparkling against the sky like mirages. The closest one, also the biggest, comes towards my general direction, but just to be sure it comes to me and not to the villagers I raise my two swords into the sky and shout. “Hey, bitch ass motherfucker, get the fuck over here! Hey, you! Big guy! Over here!” It catches its attention alright. The dragons beady eyes narrow in on me and I crouch, waiting for what I know is coming. The air around me is disturbed by the powerful beating of its wings as if flies towards me with incredible speed; it’s talons reach down in an attempt to take me out without even having to land, but I roll across the rooftop, dodging last second and swiping at the claws with my sword. The dragon shrieks with pain, a familiar sound by now, and I know I’ve hit my target. I swivel around, swords ready as it makes a U-turn in midair, circling to move towards me again. I smell the flames before I see them. The scent of kerosene and ashes and burning fills the air as the dragon opens its massive jaws, and I slam myself to the ground, rolling to press against the brick siding of the rooftop, and I’m almost too slow. My dress catches on one of the bricks and tears, and I have to jerk myself into the wall to move past the catch, tearing the piece of fabric off completely just as the flames burst into life above me. After slamming into the wall I struggle to regain my breath, and the overwhelming heat of the flames doesn’t help. It’s as if I’m being cooked alive, so close to the flames I can almost feel their pain, even when I close my eyes I see them clearly, flickering in dark reds and bright oranges and light daffodils. It seems to last forever, and when it finally stops smoke and charred brick surrounds me. I jump to my feet, coughing, and turn to see the dragons face inches from mine, jaws just closing as it stops the fire vomiting from its mouth. For a second we both seem surprised, but then we react, both at the same time. The dragon snarls and it’s head darts forwards, turning slightly as if to swallow me whole, but I see it coming and dodge to the side, feeling the teeth snap shut behind me with a force so strong it rattles the building and makes a loud ‘CLAK’ that pierces my ears. In the half a second it takes the dragon to finish closing its mouth, then reopen it and move, I strike, bringing both swords in towards the dragons eye, which is close enough for me to reach out and touch with my half. A screech erupts from it, loud and wailing and both angry and pained. The dragon blinks, but too late; the armored lid bangs shut, then bounces off of my swords, which are all the way deep into the dragons eye. Blood pours from the wound like a waterfall, bathing me in its coppery scent, staining my arms and swords and dress, and I have to force myself not to gag from the strength of the smell. I suddenly realize what’s going to happen and heave, pulling my swords from the dragons eye. I’m not a second too late. The dragon lets out one final screech before it dies, and it’s clutch on the side of the tower fails, leaving it to fall slowly down towards the ground, so slow it’s almost like it’s floating. I once again slam myself to the ground. The dragon lands with a boom so loud you could hear it for miles; it leaves my ears ringing despite the fact that I’m all the way above where it landed, and the impact on the ground shakes the building. If I was standing when it landed I know I would’ve fallen. I get up, ears still ringing, and look down; I see the dragon laying in an indent on the earth that it made by falling (thankfully it didn’t hit any buildings) and below, the rest of the fighting starts to register. I see four or five princesses taking down another dragon, which is snarling and screeching; one princess has a chain around its snout, and she’s struggling to keep it closed; another swings a mace against its tail, fighting off its attempts to sweep everyone else from their feet; a third swings her mace at its stomach, slowly wearing away the scales. I realize that they don’t know about it’s soft spots- all they know how to do it take it down slowly, by hitting the same spot, same scales over and over until the scales finally drop away to reveal soft flesh. Looking over at the second fight, where virtually the same thing is happening, confirms my theory. I scale back down the building, climbing faster now that I’m going down rather than up, and work my way over to where one of the fights is happening. A princess standing at the entrance to the building I scaled scares me half to death. “You took down that dragon all by yourself?” I nod, turning. It’s the brunette from earlier, tensed and prepared to defend whoever is inside of that building. She looks at me with awe, staring down at my dress, and for an embarrassing moment I think she’s looking at my boobs, but then I remember I’m covered in dragon blood. “They’re doing it wrong,” I huff, “they need to go for the soft spots.” I shake myself off, steel myself for another fight, and charge into battle. I let out a battle cry (more like a very mad scream) to try and psych myself up, and a few of the princesses fighting the dragon look over at me. “Go for the eyes, or the skin between the claws!” I shout. “Or let it open its mouth, and go for the throat!” One of the princesses shouts back, “how do we get to the eyes without getting bitten, burned, or crushed?” “You have to let it go, and let it get close to you!” I shout back, but the princess holding its mouth shut shakes her head. “Too dangerous!” I scoff, glancing around, then I notice another way. “Wait, can you hold it somewhat in the same spot?” I call. The princess with the chain says, “yes!” then calls down to the princess beating at its stomach, who stops and comes around to the front of the dragon. Every time it starts to move away, thrash with claws or jerk it’s head, she beats at it, forcing it back. I climb a building next to the dragon and breathe deeply. You can do this, I think. I give myself a good head start, running with huge steps, arms slightly back and pumping like crazy. I increase my speed until I’m running as fast as I can. And then I take a leap of faith. I fly across the gap between the building and the dragon, and to my horror I realize that I jumped too far. But just then the dragon twists it’s head a little bit and catches me. I slam onto its scaly head, then almost immediately roll off. Scrambling, I grab at one of the scales, then cry out. I manage to keep myself on, but the scale is so sharp and hard that it cuts into my hand. I grit my teeth and pull myself up, ignoring the pain in my hand as I do so, and manage to get myself upright on the dragons head, balancing on the small surface made by the horns above the dragons eye. Crouching to maintain balance, I take my sword from its sheath on my back so I’m duel-wielding again, and shout down. “Keep her steady, but get ready to run! She’s gonna fall soon!” I can’t hear anything above the dragons struggles but I don’t want to be up here much longer, so I assume they heard me and hope that they manage to get out from under the dragon once I kill it. Then, in a sudden fluid movement, I jump, turning in midair, and land on the dragons snout, crouched; and then, running upwards so I don’t fall, I push off of the snout, using the horns above its nose as a launch pad, swords held pointing straight out of my body, raised above my head. This dragon doesn’t even try to blink. I just make it, swords sinking deep into the dragons eye, catching and acting like handholds. I swing from the swords, suspending in midair next to the dragons face, holding myself up with the swords which are now all the way into the dragons eye. Blood gushes from the eye and I close my own eyes as it pours directly down onto me; I feel my hair and my face get drenched, smell that familiar coppery smell. The blood is so hot I almost let go of my swords in shock, but I grasp tighter last second, remembering that I’m still way too high up in the air to fall now. The dragon screeches one last time, then moans, a mix of a growl and a screech really, and I feel my handholds wobble as the dragons eyelid shuts onto the swords. Then I feel myself falling; I open my eyes, blinking to get the dragon blood from my lashes, and see the ground coming towards me with alarming speed. I pull myself up on the swords and jump off last second, rolling on the ground and coming up just in time to run. A wing, then a limb falls down where I had been seconds ago. I turn to look at the other princesses, who are staring at me. Again I have to remind myself that it’s the blood, and that not everyone is gay, damn girl get your act together you’re literally fighting dragons they’re NOT INTO YOU. Then I pant, “thanks for keeping her still,” and walk over to the dragon in as quick of a pace as I can manage. I’m starting to get tired but I can hear the sounds of the third dragon still struggling. I heave, muscled straining, and lift the dragons wing; then I crawl underneath, like crawling underneath of a tent that hasn’t been set up yet, until I reach the dragons face. I pull my swords from its eye and actually gag when a burst of blood squirts out and hits me straight in the chest and face, warm and sticky and smelly. I crawl back out from under the wing of the dead dragon and look around for the third one. “They’ve basically got it,” the chain girl tells me, and sure enough right after she says that I hear the death-squeal of a dragon, and the ground shakes as it falls to the ground, dead. I run over to where the squeal came from and see the girl with the claymore pulling her sword from the dragons chest with some effort- it seems stuck or something. One girl, the nunchucks one, turns towards me and grins. “You ruined your outfit!” she says. “Yeah, well, stabbing two dragons in the eye and being dumb enough to stay there while they bled probably didn’t help,” I grumble, mainly just exhausted. The princesses (including me) go back to the castle and clean up; I basically get an entirely new outfit, makeup and even new jewelry; and then we place our weapons back in their racks on the walls. The people running the castle promise they’ll be cleaned and taken care of but I don’t trust them with my swords so, clad in a brand new dress, heels and makeup, (and free of blood), I go outside of the castle to a little quiet courtyard and start cleaning my weapons. I use a soft, damp rag to wipe the dragon blood from the blades, until there’s no red left anywhere and the coppery smell is gone. (I have to wash and re-dampen the cloth several times). Then I sharpen the blades to their usual wickedness, scraping and scraping until I’m satisfied. Finally I polish the metal until they gleam. Then, for good measure, I stand up to practice swinging them, to feel their familiar weight in my hands. I nearly fall over forgetting that I’m in heels, and even though I’m alone in the courtyard I get embarrassed and strip the heels off, slamming them against the concrete bench to break the heels off. I slip them back on somewhat annoyedly, then do a few practice swings with my swords. “The staff would’ve cleaned them for you.” I twirl around, sword raised out of instinct, and find my blade at the brunettes throat. I blush super hard and lower my sword. “Sorry- um, yeah, I know, I just...” She smiles. “Didn’t trust them? Yeah, neither do I.” She pulls out her spiked ball, which has its chain neatly wrapped around it with a small amount left for carrying purposes. The spikes glimmer in the sunlight, with no trace of blood or wear to be seen. The brunette sits down on the concrete bench and I sit back down too, next to her. We get talking and eventually I realize that these girls are pretty similar to me. Well, some anyways. By the time the sun sets I’ve gotten to know her, and she’s gotten to know me. I realize as we walk back to the bedroom area together that she’s probably my first friend here. Then the dream ends.