A Bride For Me Before A Bride For You

On the day the prince was born, the king had been off on a crusade. In his absence, the kingdom rejoiced, for the queen, who had struggled for years and years to even fall pregnant, had given them a perfect little prince with hair as red as a fiery rose.

But while the people celebrated, another child screamed and cried, her wails heard by no one. Abandoned in the woods by the very midwife who delivered the prince, the lindworm cried for her mother the queen, her twin brother, even her crusading father, who she had never even seen.

Eventually, she grew so hungry that she could no longer cry. With her white scales gleaming in the moonlight, she moved forward, dragging herself forward in search of food. Lizards she could snap up in her maw, crickets she could catch in her claws, rats she could pounce upon, food most unfit for a princess. All the while her brother was given milk from the finest cows, the sweetest fruit, and the most tender meat.

As the prince grew from a babe to a royal, so too did the lindworm grow from a mere winged serpent into a dragon. While the prince learned of courtly etiquette and hunting for sport, the lindworm learned of scaring peasants away from her lair and hunting for her next meal. As the prince learned to ride horses, scraping his knee as he fell from gentle mares and was fretted over by royal nannies, the lindworm learned to fly, jumping from branch to branch with no one to tend to her bruised and scraped belly when she fell.

But the prince and the lindworm were similar in one regard. While the prince would turn his head to take a second look at lovely maidens who passed him by, so too would the lindworm. Washers getting water, milkmaids leading their cows, farm lasses separating wheat from chaff. Because she had never been told to think otherwise, she knew that what she felt when she saw these women was desire. And so, when she patrolled her woods, she often stopped to watch them pass by.

It just so happened that one day, while she was watching a merchant's daughter, she learned a most interesting thing. "The prince is going to set out to find a bride."

The lindworm, hearing this, listened closely, as the merchant told his daughter, "I heard he seeks a princess' hand. I would expect no less for our only prince.

To this, the lindworm snarled and flew away, setting off to meet with her brother, remembering his scent and his bright red hair. When she found him on the road, she landed straight in his path, the ground shaking as she landed, his horse spooking, and she spoke, "A bride for me before a bride for you."

The prince managed to calm his horse enough to ride back to the castle, the lindworm chasing after him, only stopping her pursuit at the city gates. Knights stood at the ready and people around her screamed in fright.

When the prince returned to the palace, short of breath and sweaty from the fright and flight, he asked his mother and father why a lindworm had accosted him in such a way. The very moment the question left his lips, the queen began to sob in shame and despair, and regaled the story of the prince's conception.

One day, while walking in the woods, lamenting her infertility, she happened upon a witch. This witch was not wicked, in fact, she had heard the queen's woes and offered her a solution. She was to place a silver pitcher upside down in the north corner of the palace garden. In the morning, she would find two roses under the pitcher, one white and one red. If she desired a son, she would eat the red one, the white one for a daughter. But she must not, under any circumstances, eat both.

"I did not believe her at first but saw no harm in it. So, I did as she commanded. In the morning, I saw two roses and thought long and hard on my choice, for it is not one I thought I would make. I became fearful that if I ate the red one, you would be called to war, and I would lose you. If I ate the white, my daughter may be married to a foreign king, and I would lose her company. In the end, I chose the white rose, preferring a living but distant daughter over a dead but glorious son. But the rose was so sweet and lovely that I forgot the witch's warning and ate the red as well. And months later, I gave birth to twins. First the lindworm, and then to you. She is your older sister; she must marry before you can."

The king, knowing she was right, said, "Then I shall find a knight brave and true to take her claw in marriage. She can't possibly expect a bride."

The prince objected, "Father, is it wise to risk angering a dragon?"

And though the king wanted to argue that such a thing would be no marriage at all, he knew his son was right. He sent a letter to the neighboring kingdom, telling them his child wished to marry, but he did not tell them which child. Thinking that their daughter would be marrying the handsome and noble prince, the kingdom sent the princess. Upon arriving and meeting the lindworm, the princess grew fearful, but she consented to the marriage, for who would ever marry the dreadful beast and free up the prince if not her?

So, the two married. When it was time to kiss the bride, the princess kissed the lindworm between the eyes, and they feasted. The lindworm tasted cake and wine and spiced meat for the first time. Would this be her life now? To live as decadently as her family?

In the marriage chamber, the lindworm settled into bed told her bride, "Princess, remove your shift." Thinking only that they would do as all married couples did.

The princess did this hastily and went up to the lindworm, sitting in front of her and kissing her scaly lips. However, upon tasting the fear on the princess' lips, the lindworm's dragon nature could not be stopped, and before she knew what had occurred, she had devoured her bride.

In the morning, when the king and queen went to wake the newlyweds, they found the lindworm with tears in her eyes, the chamber flooded. Upon seeing her parents, the lindworm only said, "Bride."

Thus, the king sent word to a faraway kingdom that his child wished to marry, though did not say which. Thinking of the handsome and noble prince, they sent their daughter. The princess grew disgusted when she met the lindworm upon arrival but consented to the marriage. For if anyone could tame such a beast, it was her.

So, they married. When it was time to kiss the bride, the princess kissed the lindworm on the snout, and they feasted. When they were alone in the marriage chamber, the lindworm said, "Princess, remove your shift."

The princess did this hastily and went to the lindworm, kissing her scaly lips. But upon tasting the disgust on her bride’s lips, the lindworm could not stop her dragon's nature and devoured her bride before she knew what had happened. When the king and queen arrived to wake the newlyweds, they once again found the lindworm alone and the chamber flooded with her tears. Her eyes still wet, all the lindworm could say was, "Bride."

Knowing that to ask for yet another princess would bring war to his kingdom, the king went to see his shepherd and commanded him to give his daughter's hand in marriage to the lindworm instead. For the shepherd had been loyal for many years and would never think to disobey.

"Your majesty, please, reconsider. She is my only child!"

"I know this, good shepherd, and I assure you, should your daughter be devoured, I shall have the lindworm, my own flesh and blood, slain.

But the shepherd's daughter did not consent to the marriage when she was told, running off into the forest at the thought of being a bride to a creature who would eat her own lover.

When she was deep in the woods, the shepherdess had many thoughts of how to escape her fate. She could offer her services in shearing and herding to the neighboring kingdom. She could stay in these woods. She could even make a home up a tree if need be. Like the great gnarled tree she stopped to look at. Then suddenly, in front of that tree, there was a gnarled old woman. And she spoke, "You're a long way from your flock, and you look as if you've met death. What troubles you, dearie?"

Though she had been startled, the shepherdess sighed and confessed to the old woman, "I'm afraid I may meet death very soon indeed. You see, they want me to marry the lindworm, but she has already eaten two princesses. What is to stop her from devouring a simple shepherd's daughter?"

"Ah, the lindworm. Such a shame, she would have made such a pretty princess, and we would have none of this trouble, had Her Majesty heeded my warning. Worry not, dearie, I can help you save both yourself and the lindworm. All I ask is that you follow my word to the letter."

The shepherdess considered the witch's offer and because she had few options, agreed to it, "Alright. You need only tell me what to do."

And so, the shepherd's daughter went home and consented to the marriage. When she met the lindworm, she grew determined. Never again would anyone suffer from this beast's appetites, least of all the beast herself.

So, the two were wed. When it came time to kiss the bride, the shepherdess kissed the lindworm on her scaly lips. Upon tasting the determination on her bride's lips, the lindworm's dragon nature did absolutely nothing. Thus, they feasted, and while all were distracted, the shepherdess pulled a servant aside and told him to bring a tub of lye, a tub of milk, and a bullwhip to the marriage chamber.

When they came to the chamber, the lindworm saw the implements, but did not ask what they were for. She simply settled down, telling her newest bride, "Shepherdess, remove your shift."

The shepherdess, now nervous but still determined, in turn said, "Only if you shed your skin."

The lindworm was stunned, telling her bride, "I have not shed in years, and never on command."

"If you will not shed, then I will not shed."

The lindworm, seeing no point in refusing her wife, thus shed a skin. Her scales were now brighter in the candlelight. When she did this, the shepherdess removed her shift to reveal another underneath. The lindworm, puzzled by what she saw, blinked, and told the maiden, "Bride of mine, remove your shift."

"Only if you shed a skin."

And so, the lindworm shed another skin, her scales gleaming even brighter, but also making the lindworm feel weaker. And when the shepherdess removed her shift once more, she revealed yet another underneath.

They did this ten times, until the shepherdess was down to her last shift and the lindworm's skin was raw and weeping, the beast unable to move. Now that this was done, the maiden took up the bull whip and dipped it in the lye before striking the lindworm.

The lindworm screamed out in agony and the shepherdess stopped. It was one thing to watch the lindworm shed until she looked like a scab that had been peeled before its time, quite another to induce pain on her. But she also knew better than to disobey the witch, especially this far in, so she continued. She dipped the whip in the lye and struck the lindworm again. She did this five times before she took up the tub of milk and poured it over the lindworm, the creature moaning in relief the instant the liquid touched her skin.

The witch had said the shepherdess could do whatever she wished at that point, so long as she stayed in the chamber with the lindworm. And seeing the poor beast on the floor, surrounded by her skins, and slashed by the whip and bleeding, covered in milk, there was only one thing the shepherd's daughter could do. She got down, took the lindworm's great neck into her arms, and embraced her.

The lindworm, never having been held so gently, began to sniffle, and then began to weep. Using the very last of her strength, the lindworm leaned into the embrace and asked, "Why?"

The shepherdess told her, "Because if someone did to me what I just did to you, I would want to be held by someone who cared." The lindworm sniffled once more and stayed in her bride's arms. The both of thm falling asleep in that embrace.

The next morning, the king and queen went to wake the newlyweds, the prince with them this time. But when they entered the chamber, they saw not the shepherdess devoured, but the lindworm gone. In the shepherdess' arms instead was a maiden, with hair as white as a snowy rose.

As the two woke, the prince threw a blanket over his sister to preserve her modesty, the king picked up the shepherdess in a grateful hug, and the queen tried to hug her still sitting daughter. The former lindworm, however, crawled away from her with wide eyes, as if they thought of her own mother touching her terrified her.

The queen backed off at this, the king instead letting the shepherdess go and asking the princess, "What will you do now, daughter mine? Join court? Seek a proper groom?"

The princess looked at the shepherdess, the shepherdess back at her, and there was an understanding. The princess could not lead the court like this. Not when she had been an unloved dragon such a short time ago. And the thought of a groom was distasteful to her.

"I shall teach her to be human, your majesty. We are wed, so I have a duty to care for her. When she is ready, I'm sure she'll return to the palace."

The queen spoke once more then, telling her, "We will be waiting. In the meantime, you are always welcome in the palace. The way you should have always been."

And so, the shepherdess and the princess went home, the princess needing to be carried, though she didn't mind. It allowed her to embrace the shepherdess. Thus, they lived happily, and the princess never did move back into the palace

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