Prince charming's Arc

Chapter 6 of 30

Prince Charming came down from the tower with the earring in his fist and the flock still bright on the branch. The princess was gone. The mountain waited. He had promised to send the earring up before nightfall, but the earring was not his gift to give away. He owed the dragon something of his own. The black scale in his pocket weighed more than the diamond. He had nothing in his house that could answer it. He walked home and opened every door. His house rose three floors above the forest floor, each level narrower than the one below. He climbed from the cellar to the attic and took inventory. Sacks of seed. A wheel of cheese. Copper pans. His father's sword, dull at the edge. A wool coat. Nothing rare. Nothing a creature on a mountain would recognize as tribute. He sat on the attic step and turned the scale over in his hand. It was the color of a wet stone and heavier than it looked. He thought of what the dragon had actually done. It had not sent a jewel. It had sent a piece of itself. The gift was not value. The gift was cost. He went down to the second floor and took his father's sword from the wall. He carried it to the yard and struck the pommel against the stone step until the grip split and the small ruby set in the crossguard came loose. Then he cut a lock of his own hair with the blade, the way the princess had cut hers, and knotted it around the ruby. It was not precious enough on its own. Together, they were something no one else could send. He walked back to the branch where the flock waited. The largest bird came to his wrist. He tied the ruby and the hair to its leg and lifted his arm. The bird climbed toward the peak. He watched it shrink to a spark and vanish against the grey rock. He waited until the sun touched the ridge. Then the dragon rose from the mountain. It did not circle this time. It came down the slope in a long glide, wings the color of iron and rust, horns curved forward, and landed at the treeline three fields from where he stood. It folded its wings and sat. It did not come closer. It did not go back. It waited, watching him across the open ground, and he understood the next move belonged to him.