Here there be dragon clichés...

VI - Little did they know...

Zhæxaqezebel had always been different from the other dragons...

She had hatched one evening when the moon hung low in the sky and there were dire omens that suggested that the world was on the brink of disaster...

But the apocalypse never came. No cataclysm. Not even a minor catastrophe. Dragons are usually very good at reading the heavenly signs, but this time it was a day like any other.

A dragon hatched that day. Zhæxaqezebel was raised with other dragons who kept telling her that she was special somehow, that she would either destroy the world or be the saviour of dragonkind. But as she grew and looked out of her den, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't special. She had no grand destiny. She was a fraud.

As dragons go she pillaged towns like the best of them, waylaid travellers and took their gold. She ate them if she was hungry and played with them out of boredom if she was not. Sometimes knights came looking to mount her head on a wall, but so far she had amassed her own collection of heads which she decorated her den with. In time the flesh rotted away leaving only skulls staring out from the visors of their helmets.

It seemed like an eternity had passed since she had last entertained guests. Knights were so meaty once you ripped their armour off and got to the squishy stuff in the middle. With each passing day her boredom grew and her hope dwindled that she might someday prove that she was special.

Every dragon wanted to believe that they were special, but the only thing unique about Zhæxaqezebel was her name, and even that wasn't that interesting by dragon standards. No, there was nothing to do about it. She might as well sleep the days away...

Suddenly echoes from higher up in the cave that was her den reached her ears and she opened her eyes and roused herself to stand. Piles of gold showered down away from her as she sniffed the air and smelled the intruders.

The stench of stale ale, unwashed armpits and groins, and the rust of armour were unmistakable... And potent. She listened closely, catching the distant rhythmic breathing of the two dragonslayers who were coming to seek their fortune and glory.

She smiled as only a dragon could, her reptilian lips reaching almost ear to ear. Finally! Something to ease her boredom. Whoever these two fools are, they were dancing on the edge of disaster...