# Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

By: TheDragonBoy

## Content

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Alexander!” An iron gauntlet smacked encouragingly into chainmail. “With a legend like you leading the charge, we hardly have anything to worry over.”

“Apologies,” Sir Alexander replied, mustering up a false smile and hearty chuckle to cover his expression. “…I only wonder if we truly understood the king’s order. Did he really mean for us to journey to slay this particular dragon? I mean, sh-sure it’s possible, but there have been no incidents here of note. Nothing to warrant retaliation.”

“It is the law of the land,” the third knight of their company said flatly in answer. “All of those beasts who refuse to serve the crown must fall.”

“Quite true…” Alexander replied, thoughtfully… perhaps nervously.

“Surely you don’t have to remind the great Sir Alexander of that,” the first, significantly more enthusiastic knight remarked. “How many is it that you have dispatched, now?”

“Six,” Alexander replied, some grizzled experience slipping into his tone.

“Then this shall be your lucky seventh!”

“Yes, well… perhaps we should hold before our arrival to ensure our orders. Wesley, was it?” he addressed that first, most eager companion directly. “Perhaps you could ride back swiftly and confirm his majesty’s word?”

“But we are already here,” the younger knight replied, gesturing up at the mountain peak they had nearly reached. “Surely we should slay this beast regardless after such a trek. It is his majesty’s law, in the end.”

“…Yes, of course, you are right. The day must come eventually.” Finally, the large cave entrance came sharply into view as they reached a rocky plateau. It loomed more like an ominous night than a righteously foretold day. “You have not slain a dragon before, have you, Sir Wesley?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“Not as of yet. I am quite honored to have the privilege of learning by your side.”

“Try not to get cooked, then,” chimed in the third, much less talkative member of their company.

“If you remember one thing,” Alexander offered, trying to be at least slightly more helpful, “it’s that dragons are intelligent as well as powerful. Be on your guard. Know when you are outmatched, because your adversary certainly will.”

The younger man nodded diligently, but the eager smile never left his face. Alexander frowned, then took a breath. That was it, then. There was nothing left to do but carry out his task.

He put a hand to his hilt and started quietly toward the cave, his two fellows following in kind. As they crept closer, the shadow of the rocky maw eclipsed the sun. He gave his eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness before he made his opening move.

In a poetic fashion, he drew his blade from its scabbard, twisting slightly to let the metal ring out as he exposed his weapon, the sound echoing through the cavern.

“Dragon!” he called in a threatening bellow. “By order of the crown of Velaria, we knights have come to rid this land of your presence! Reveal yourself and be slain!”

The blunt demand echoed off with the call of his sword, mixing and fading into the stony depths.

Wesley looked on in awe at the sheer strength and bravery of his companion. There was no doubt that this was the Sir Alexander of legend. This beast would surely have no chance against… What was that sound?

As the knight’s call faded out, it was replaced not with silence, but with a low rumble. A sound that seemed to shake the very mountain itself. It was quiet at first, but grew quickly louder, like a storm blowing swiftly in to pound the earth with its rain. And then, from deep within the shadows, a brief burst of firelight flashed, illuminating for just a moment an enormous pair of furious, glaring eyes.

*thud*

*thud*

*thud*

*thud*

First there was just a glimmer; a green glint. Then the shadows seemed to shift as the form within grew closer; the gargantuan, monstrous form. And then all at once the head of a snarling, ivy-scaled dragon appeared, emerging into the half-light of the cave entrance. More green scales followed, a seemingly endless length of long, serpentine neck, and then finally the mighty, thundering legs which shook the earth, sporting claws that could put the knights’ measly ‘weapons’ to shame.

The distant thunder that was the beast’s growl ceased as the large, angry eyes assessed the trio of intruders. There was a tense, palpable moment of silence.

“Leave.” The creature’s word rumbled through the stone, lingering in the air. “I am a fair dragoness. I have no quarrel with your kingdom. Leave now and you will all be spared.”

Sir Alexander stared directly into the beast’s eyes and pointed his sword firmly along with his gaze.

“We are here on order of the king. He has ordered death. And we will not depart until death has been so delivered.”

Wesley, despite the terror coursing through his veins, couldn’t help but spare a glance away from his foe and toward his commander. Even in the face of this powerful beast, he showed no fear, and gave no ground. The younger knight gripped his hilt with white knuckles within his gauntlet and waited for Alexander’s lead to follow.

“…So be it,” the dragoness replied.

The third of their company slowly started drawing his blade and the tension climbed to an unsustainable peak. And then the peace finally shattered.

Sir Alexander let out a proud, raging battle cry, and charged forward with his sword at the ready. The dragon roared in response. A moment later all knights drew their weapons and started forward after their lead-

*NOMF*

Wesley nearly jumped at the sight, stumbling as his heart skipped a beat and his muscles briefly locked up. It had been so fast. Instant and direct. One moment their commander had been rushing forward ahead of them, and the next there was just a wall of green scales. For the first moment, Wesley couldn’t even comprehend it. For the second, he couldn’t quite believe it. In the third moment, he realized that surely a legend of Sir Alexander’s caliber would be ready for- no, expecting- such an attack, and he would emerge after just another moment, having dealt a painful blow to their foe.

When the dragon’s head rose from the stony ground once more, with their leader nowhere in sight, Wesley felt himself truly falter. His charge petered out, directionless without his commander to follow, and some instinctive terror took charge instead, pulling his eyes upwards to follow the beast’s head as it ascended higher and higher, jaws shifting all the while, until the great green muzzle pointed skyward.

*GLRK*

Wesley saw it. The lump in the creature’s throat. No. No, it couldn’t be. This could not be-

*blech* *clank*

The sharp noise pulled his gaze downward as something sizable struck the stone by his feet. There, glistening in a pool of slimy drool, was the sword of Sir Alexander.

“No…” Wesley breathed, as he looked up once more, watching powerless, as the lump slithered further and further down the dragon’s winding neck.

“No!” Alexander cried as best he could, though that wasn’t very well at all. Fear and shock shot through him, as the harsh reality of the past few seconds gripped him in the form of slick, muscular, squelching contractions. “No! Stop! Stop! Wait!”

But it was too late, and he knew it. He’d heard the sound, like an ocean wave breaking in his ears. The dragon’s gullet had gaped wide, and he had been thrown- or more accurately, squeezed- right down, down into the utter darkness and heat. Alexander wriggled and writhed, but all he ended up doing was slipping further and further along the long, scaly neck of his foe, the slime which lubricated his path crackling as he passed. He clawed at the smooth walls, instinctively trying to reverse or at least slow his descent, but to no avail.

Those seconds, as the wet innards of the dragon’s throat pressed up against his helmet, felt like the longest of his life. And yet they also seemed to end in an instant. Because before he knew it, the unforgivingly tight walls parted and dispensed the brave knight rather unceremoniously into a large pool of foul, thick slop.

*splash*

*guuurg*

He splashed around in a panic for a few moments, sending chyme and chunks of semi-digested dragon food flying every which way in the darkness, desperately trying to keep himself out of the hot sludge now flooding his armor. Luckily, he found that the pool he’d been thrust into wasn’t very deep at all, and he didn’t have much trouble keeping his head clear, though he ended up knocking it into the firm muscle above him several times in his attempts. Still despite all his struggles, the chamber around him simply gave an indifferent gurgle, sloshing him around a bit as the slick walls surrounding him contracted.

No-no… this wasn’t… This can’t be… I can’t be-

*glorp*

His world shook as the creature’s belly pressed in against him, tugging him along as the dragon continued to fight the battle raging on outside. But that battle was not his concern now. No, he’d been well and thoroughly removed from that fight. Eliminated in the most humiliating and terrifying manner possible. And now…

*shlorp* *glurg*

He felt the hot liquids soaking into his clothes, into his skin. The acrid air filling his lungs, sending his head into a swirl.

I’m going to die in here… I’m going to digest in here!

Heavily muffled shouting leaked in through the walls of this chamber. This stomach. His comrades, locked in combat, bellowing their defiance. Wesley, the poor fool. They all should have turned back when he’d given them the chance…

Then, suddenly, came a thunderous roar. Not the kind the dragon had made when he’d been taken, but a roar of a different sort. The kind that crackled and rumbled as it tore through and consumed the very air itself. The roar of searing, billowing flame. He’d heard the sound before; a dragon’s breath of fire. He might have begun to imagine the heat on his skin, if the very real heat of the dragon’s belly was not already so overwhelming.

It lasted only for a few seconds, and then faded out as quickly as it had erupted to life. And in its wake, absolutely no sound from the outside world reached his ears. No battle cries, nor cries of suffering, not the tiniest peep, just deathly silence.

*guuurgle*

The firm, slimy walls of the stomach pressed in against him again, prodding at their nutritious prize.

…Was it over? …Had his fellow knights fallen? Was it just him, alone, wrapped up in the belly of a dragon? He felt a renewed sense of fear grip him, as he stared off into the infinite blackness, trapped beyond all hope of rescue. What was he but a dragon’s meal, now? Resigned to stewing in this beast’s gut until it stripped the flesh from his bones.

*glorp*

A profound powerlessness overtook him, one he’d hardly ever known before. A small, meaningless speck, adrift in the invisible digestive system of a larger, stronger creature.

*squelch*!

The walls pressed in tighter, much tighter, and he closed his eyes. Limbs pinned to his torso, he could feel the mighty muscles deforming his armor with their force, the slop around him surging and splattering. As the entire stomach sprang to life and set to work upon the dragon’s latest meal, his life flashed before his eyes.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. How had it come to this? Had he been too naive? Too misfortunate? Too direct and threatening? If only it weren’t too late to ask her w-

*blech* *thu-clank*

*cough*! *cough*! *cough*!

Fresh air tickling his lungs, Sir Alexander frantically tried to clear his throat to allow its passage, taking in big gulps of breath between grunts.

“Well, my brave Velarian Knight, I believe that just leaves the two of us.” The dragoness, fresh off her victory, spoke with much less of an edge than when she’d first emerged. In fact, she waited patiently for her assailant to recover his voice.

“V-Verda! By the gods! You- you ate me!” Alexander pulled off his helmet, then his gauntlets, hurriedly attempting to wipe the slime and slop from his face.

“…Well… only a little bit,” the looming mass of green scales admitted. “I had to get you out of the way somehow. Would you have preferred I stepped on you? Or sat on you?”

“I would have preferred some warning!” The knight insisted, stripping off the remainder of his armor, half-digested sludge leaking from his boots.

“Well, so would I,” she countered. “When you said the king might actually send you to kill me one day, I assumed you would at least have the good sense to wake me ahead of time, rather than barge in as you did. Frankly, you’re lucky I recognized you at all, putting on that pompous act.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he argued, but his fresh relief was taking all the bite from his words, as he did his best to brush off all the remaining dragon-slop from his underclothes. “My companions were utterly insistent on ‘barging’ along. You know I would have warned you if I could.”

“Apology accepted,” the dragoness replied, perhaps a tad teasingly.

Alexander’s breathing began to slow, reveling in the free movement of his limbs even as he started to register the revolting stench that clung to his every inch, like a lingering claim from the dragoness’ belly. He brushed at his garments some more.

“…Truth be told, for a time I wondered if you actually intended to end me in there…” he admitted, releasing some of his lingering fear.

“Please, Alexander, if I wanted to eat you, I would have done it ages ago.”

Even as she spoke, her head loomed a bit closer, and her jaws began to part. Before the knight had much chance to react, the enormous, glistening tongue was rushing toward him again and slathering his entire body with a fresh coat of steamy slime, dripping down all parts of his form.

“Relax,” she said in between licks, feeling the tension in his little body. “I’m only helping you clear off my last meal.”

The soft muscle worked him over thoroughly for a few moments, scouring every surface within reach, before finally retreating. While the hot, sticky saliva was far from enjoyable, he had to admit it did have a preferable nature compared to the thicker, reeking, burning chyme her stomach had left him covered with.

“There,” she announced, satisfied.

Alexander looked slightly less than grateful.

“You know, I doubt many other dragons would be so kind to you, especially with the attempted murder.”

“Well, I doubt any other knight would be so kind as to idiotically rush at you headlong and brash.”

“You might be surprised,” she replied, even as she turned away. Not too far from where he stood, little trails of smoke rose from two forms, laying motionless on the stony floor. She bent down toward one of them, jaws parting to release her tongue once more.

What had once been a grizzled, skilled, Velarian knight, was now nothing more than a well-armored, somewhat charred corpse. She brought the fresh meat into her maw and swallowed.

“Y-you’re eating them?” Alexander asked.

“Well, no sense in letting them go to waste. Certainly you weren’t planning to carry their remains all the way back to your kingdom?”

“Well, I suppose not, but… It’s just unnerving.” He thought back over his quite recent experience.

“Would it help if I mentioned that you tasted much better?”

“No.” Came his rather stern reply to her teasing.

He watched her tongue come down a second time, scooping up the remaining, smaller of the two fallen knights.

“Wait,” Alexander said.

She raised a massive brow in his direction, food draped over her half-extended tastebuds.

He walked over and did his best to softly remove Wesley’s helmet, holding it under one arm. It was still hot from the flames, but the dragon’s drool proved to be a good insulator.

“Be gentle with him,” he requested. “He was a good lad. Wish I could have talked some sense into him, or at least convinced him to turn back.”

He watched the glistening, pink muscle retreat and disappear into the shadow of the green dragon’s descending fangs. Her maw falling shut, she raised her head, and he watched the noticeable bulge form in her throat as she swallowed, slipping down, down, down, as he had himself so recently. But those two would not be coming out. Poor fools.

“Yes, well, it seems to take a certain kind of knight to understand the simple truth that some dragons can be left alive in peace.”

“I suppose I could say the same for the reverse.”

“True,” the dragoness admitted. “So, what will you tell your king?”

“That you’re dead,” Alexander replied, walking over to retrieve his sword from the pool of cooling drool with which it had been spat. He slipped it back into its sheath, though it didn’t ring quite the same as when it was dry. “It’s not as if your death would suddenly put an end to burning villages, seeing as you’re sensible enough to avoid that, and most can’t tell one dragon from another anyway.”

“As fine a plan as any,” she agreed.

He nodded and turned toward the familiar cave entrance.

“Will you be departing then?” Her question lingered in the air.

“…Well, this wasn’t one of our planned visits, but I’ve come all this way, I suppose I might as well stay a while.”

“Hm… I don’t normally allow arrogant knights to linger in my cave, but I suppose you’re the exception,” the dragoness joked. “Come, sit, tell me of your news.”

“Over by that little stream, perhaps? I need to wash your puke from my armor before it starts to dissolve.”

“Sure. And perhaps we should discuss a better plan for the next time your king orders me dead? Unless you’d like to take another trip down my gullet the next time you wake me?”

“Right, good idea.”

Originally Published: 6-Jun-2024