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glovepaint · 1 year

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Dragonbreath and the White Baroness

My dear OCs Hedwig and Quinn dressed as folklore characters from their world aka my OC world!

What's that folklore about though?

Here's the whole story:

… and so, the dragon that had caused pain and suffering throughout the lands was slain. Finally defeated by a brave young soldier and a mage with great powers. The terrible threat was over at last, but was it truly gone?

According to witnesses first arriving at the scene of the grand battle, in its final moments, the dragon whispered of a pact with Death. In its dying breath, a dark cloud formed over the not yet cold body and raced into the nearby woods before anyone could fathom what might be going on.

Ecstatic in the newly won freedom from the tyrant, in the beginning few noticed that whenever there was a death or fire, a dark silhouette was looming. As the euphoria faded however, the account of a man who barely survived a blazing inferno brought new concerns. It was a cloaked figure, black horns mounted on the deep red hood, carrying nothing but a burning lantern. Not bothered by the heat or fatal flames at all, the figure grabbed the man with black leather gloves, whispering it apparently wasn’t ought to be his time yet. And before the flames engulfed them both, the man found himself at a safe distance from the fire.

Stories of similar encounters and sightings started coming to light. Some claimed to have heard a roar like the tyrant dragon’s. Others swore they recognized the horns. That the leather the figure wore shimmered like scales. There even were ones insisting that the little lantern’s fire was burning at temperatures only the dragon had managed to spew out! Marking a final feature: the dark cloud that appeared whenever the figure did. Thanks to people present during the dragon’s death, the pieces came together. There was no question as to where this cloaked figure originated. Before long, every man, woman, senior and child knew of this figure, who had come from the dragon’s last breath as “Dragonbreath”.

The pact the dragon made let part of him live on, letting him continue to end lives in wrath and fire, but Dragonbreath nonetheless seemed to be at Death’s mercy. Not everyone was allowed to die at his hands. He had to abide by Death’s rules. He’d become a pawn. An underling to a greater force. And still, he became the very image of Death on the entire continent.

Without concern of messing with a force beyond their comprehension, many set out to end the deathbringer in the early days. Most to their unburnt fortune however, nothing proved successful. But more and more people did not seem to mind that Dragonbreath wasn’t captured and brought down. While still rightfully cautious, they thought of the people’s lives that were spared by him, saved even. Over many hundred years, a frightened respect started to build for the deadly visitor among humans and mages alike. That is why today, when someone just barely escapes death, tradition has it to send one’s gratitude to Dragonbreath, when an incurable, suffering person finally passes on, the family will be thankful for him finally taking them with grace. But there’s still just as much anger at him on the other side. Whenever a young child’s life is cut short. Whenever many die in unforgiving fires. Whenever someone’s scale is tipped ever so slightly to the wrong side, bringing an untimely and sudden demise.

This complicated relationship made it easy for many different people to hold vastly varying thoughts and opinions as they still do to this day. But the most unique and memorable view of him must have been that of a baron’s young daughter, way back in a time where royal families were still common. She was a beautiful and bright child, fascinated by history, especially any books to be found about the tyrant dragon that had been defeated centuries ago. Consequently, she was also well aware of Dragonbreath and his role to the people. The idea of a dragon’s spirit living on in a human-like body and carrying out death’s work always had her listening closely whenever a bard came to sing a new tale about this being’s deeds.

One day, this simple interest would give way to much stronger feelings, the day she met Dragonbreath herself. A terrible fire had broken out in her home. Trapped in a room it was hopeless. Until he appeared. Swiftly, Dragonbreath had saved her, like he did the man who first ever saw him so long ago and so many, many more. No scratch or burn marks to be found on the girl or her clothes. But unlike it was in the stories, Dragonbreath did not disappear instantly. For a moment, he lingered, watching as people escaped the building. A moment enough for the young baroness to alter her entire worldview.

After this day, the young baroness’s infatuation became extreme. Dragonbreath came to save her. With every coming day it grew. She was his reason to be there. It was the only thing she desired to talk about. He even stayed with her for a short time afterwards! All her waking hours she spent thinking about the encounter. It became a major concern for her parents. But her eyes had been opened. She needed to meet him again.

Any attempts people made to make her rethink this revelation were fruitless. Feeling cornered by everyone around her, she made a decision, giving into her obsession, she ran away with nothing but the snow white dress she wore, eager to reunite her saviour. And she already knew how to accomplish this.

It didn’t take long for stories to spread, about the crazy girl throwing herself into fires. Whenever she was close to one, she’d be on her way right into the middle of it. No good soul could ever stop her deadly undertaking. But each and every time, she came out without as much as a burnt lock, her dress still as pure as when it was first sewn. Yet she was never grateful for this. Because every time, while she adored being saved once again, Dragonbreath didn’t even bother to acknowledge her before disappearing. This called for more drastic measures.

However, her plan wasn’t going to pan out the way she intended it to. The torch was ripped from her hands just as she was about to carry out the action.

Immediately, an unnerved voice demanded answers from her. About what all of it was supposed to accomplish. If she enjoyed tormenting him by making his work so much more unbearable. How she had the audacity to try and set herself on fire now.

Dragonbreath. Finally.

She hadn’t thought about how this impacted her dear saviour. She just wanted to be close to him after all. But he hadn’t ever listened to her before either!

And rightly so, he thought. Because the girl’s explanation must be a tasteless lie, a joke to her perhaps. Nobody would want anything to do with a soulless pawn of death. One that only spares who he isn’t allowed to take yet. Nevertheless, her face told a different story. It was her true motivation. This poor child had no idea what she had fallen for. Standing her ground, she wouldn’t budge, despite all the things he made her aware of.

There was only a single way to end this and make her see what’s right: granting her wish. She was allowed to travel with him for the time being. Be as close as she could stomach. Watch him carry out his daily atrocities. Until the day she finally realizes this was nothing she actually desired to be close to.

That day never came.

Weeks, months, years went by and she still accompanied Dragonbreath without a doubt. When whole villages burned to the ground. When he ripped innocent children’s souls. When he wiped out entire bloodlines. She was there. She knew. She watched. And yet she still enjoyed being so close. Even worse - so did he. He slowly grew fond of not being alone. Of a humanly connection, a bond despite his inherently inhumane nature. Of not being bound to exist in solitude and silence any longer.

But she was only mortal, a lifespan limited to fractions of eternity. As her time had come, Dragonbreath gave her the choice and her pick fell on the very thing that brought them together many decades ago. Heavy hearted, they exchanged goodbyes as Dragonbreath rose his lantern over the fair woman he had begun to cherish so much.

This time the dress didn’t stay white, the locks weren’t unharmed. They shone bright in the flames, making for a visual spectacle as they slowly crumbled to ashes.

And yet, she wasn’t gone. That same night, a white mist fell over the clearing and there she stood. Paler than even before, but undoubtedly her figure, her features, herself.

She was not alive anymore, that is true, but as every child knows, a soul doesn’t move on until they have welcomed the souls of people closest to them. To her, this was an impossibility. Her closest one, Dragonbreath, had neither a soul anymore nor would he ever die, so she made a pact with Death, like Dragonbreath had done so long ago. To continue traveling with him, she gave her soul for an eternity. An eternity for her to shoulder the task of deciding over who’s to die and what lives to prolong. Relieving Death of this tiring duty on the continent. For this, she was granted as much of a body as Dragonbreath had been, shimmering in her spotless white gown and a crown of thorns.

The White Baroness, now being tasked with this great power and responsibility, wanted not to be unkind. She made a habit of visiting people before deciding whether her dearest should bring death, curious if they could sway her mind. She never asked for much, but if they turned her down without a second thought, with cheeky smirks or even rude remarks, Dragonbreath would be sure to visit not long after. Others escaped their certain demise by simply offering shelter and some water for the night.

That is why it’s common knowledge that if a sickly pale woman, dressed in shining white comes to your door and asks for laughable and trivial things, it’s best not to make her wait, else it will be a seldom warm and “cozy” night reuniting you with your ancestors.

So, if you ever happen to come across an excessively heated blaze or some inexplicable white mist, you might soon have to meet the deathbringers of our lands - Dragonbreath and the White Baroness.

- Quinn, Novrade, in 1121

As a note about my world: the part of a tyrant dragon terrorising the land and being defeated, the first paragraph, is a historical fact in the world. Everything else is only folklore. Or is it?

#halloween #happy halloween #my art #digital painting #original characters #original story #fictional folklore #folklore #creative writing #spooky story #fire #lantern #the White Baroness #Dragonbreath #original world #original writing #halloween 2022 #halloween art

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dearsnow · 10 months

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HERE WE COME

- you begin your journey on dragonbreath mountain with your best friend and a couple of unwelcome guests. (jacaerys velaryon, aemond targaryen, & aegon targaryen x gn!reader)

word count: 1,068

DRAGONBREATH MOUNTAIN: when you decided to become a camp counselor with your best friend, jacaerys velaryon, you never knew exactly what the trip would entail.

You step out of the travel van, your booted feet sticking in a small patch of mud. You thank the driver with a smile and turn around to look at your surroundings, awestruck. The air is fresh, scented with pine needles and wet grass. Every little piece of this place is gorgeous. There are countless trees, stretching far into the distance, and the horizon is decorated with scrawling mountains. Each one seems larger than the one before, surrounding the little clearing with walls of earth and stone. You take a deep breath and turn to the boy next to you.

“Damn, I never knew nature could be this beautiful.” You breathe. “How have you never brought me up here before, Jace? One picture and I would’ve packed my bags.” You can hear the faint rumbling of a waterfall, hidden by the trees and rocks.

He smiles, eyes darting around like today is the first time he has ever seen the outside world. “First of all, phones aren’t allowed up here. You have to turn them in to the camp leader when we actually reach camp. He’s pretty strict about them. I should know, he’s taken my phone away at home more times than I can remember.” You laugh at that. “And secondly,” He takes a pause, “I remember you saying that you like hot water better than mountaintop views.” He raises his eyebrows in your direction. He’s right, and you know it. That doesn’t stop you from hating the look on his face, though, the one that’s screaming “I told you so”.

He’s been going to this camp since he was seven years old. Every year, he would return home and regale you with tales of hiking trails, hidden beauties, and campfire songs. Camp Dragonbreath means the absolute world to him. When he got too old to be a camper, however, he returned as a counselor. This is the first year he’s been able to convince you to come along for the ride.

You grab your backpack from inside the rickety old camp van, but as you try to pick up your suitcase, Jace stops you. He lifts both your suitcase and his with ease, setting them down on a dry patch of land. You can’t help but notice that he looks good while he does it, his arm muscles stretching against his thin t-shirt. You shake the thought away as another van rolls into the area. He squints, searching for the blurry faces in the windows.

Jace audibly groans the moment he catches a glimpse of the people in the beat-up vehicle. “Wonderful, my relatives.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Relatives? I thought you had to be between seventeen and twenty-five to be a camp counselor.” Your mind races to Luke, his kid brother, and his parents. His step-father is the camp leader, which you know, but he’s been at the camp itself for a couple days now. You don’t know anyone else that could possibly be in that van.

He presses his lips into a thin line and crosses his arms. “Yeah, my cousins are around our age. Aegon and Aemond. I almost forgot they would even be here. They’ve never taken an interest in this place before, but I guess this year I got unlucky.” He turns towards you, decidedly putting his body between you and the others. “I try to stay away from them, and you should too.”

Now you’re confused. How did your best friend hide his family from you that well? “Why?” You ask, your mind reeling. If a kind, strong, and amazing person like Jace hid people from you, they must be jerks or something.

“You’ll see.” He mutters, closing the door to your van. The driver peels out of the lot, probably going to store the vehicle in some secluded place while the camp goes on. You wonder how many people have sat in the same seat as you, scrunching your nose slightly. Your attention is once again quickly diverted to the other van as the inhabitants open the door.

The first one out has curly white hair and eye bags that seem to reach down into the pits of hell. He’s weirdly handsome, resembling the very tired posterboy for a teen romcom. The other is tall, slender, and sharp. One of his eyes is covered with a patch, his sleek, snow-colored hair falling over his shoulders gracefully. He is also handsome, but in the way a knife is handsome. You suck in a breath.

“Jacey!” The first one calls. “What are you doing with someone as stunning as that? Did a poor soul finally take pity on you?” Immediately, you know why he didn’t want you to meet them. Your cheeks grow warm at the jeer as the second boy looks at the first, mildly disappointed.

Jace sighs, resting a hand lightly on his forehead. “No, Aegon, this is my best friend. Not like you would know, you’ve never had a friend in your life.” He shoots back. Your eyes widen, a small smile finding its way to your face as he speaks. You never knew Jace was one to fight back like that. Of course, no one had ever teased him in a similar fashion while you were around before.

Aegon looks hurt, turning to his brother with an exaggerated swagger. “I’ve had friends, plenty of them. Right, Aem?”

He rolls his good eye. “Not that I’ve ever seen.” He mutters coldly. Your small smile turns into a large grin as Aegon deflates, turning to you for support.

“It’s never too late to start making them. Will you be my friend, gorgeous?” He asks. Aemond smacks the back of Aegon’s head.

“It’ll be an incredibly long hike to the campsite if you continue on this way.” He sneers. There’s an icy look in his gaze, though it’s cut with just a hint of affection. They’re definitely interesting people. With the way Jace is staring at them, though, with burning eyes, you think there might be something other than cousinly rivalry present.

Jace hands you your suitcase. “Let’s get going. The camp is just up that hill, at the foot of Dragonbreath Mountain.” He gestures to a small trail to your right, marked with a sign. “If we’re lucky, we’ll lose those two along the way.” He whispers under his breath. You stifle a laugh.

“Dragonbreath Mountain, here we come.”

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