The Tale of Yolluagh and Ysabella Part 3

The Tale of Yolluagh and Ysabella A Dragon’s Tale By Wyrdwolf Legion - Part 3 - Yolluagh had quite accidentally burned down the human village and so, in their fear, they had made a gift to him of the beautiful Ysabella, The perplexed dragon had tried to explain, but the Village elder had misunderstood. Assuming Yolluagh wanted more, he had promised the most beautiful maiden of the tribe each and every year, thus injuring Ysabella’s pride. So now Yolluagh had a jealous woman on his hands.

Since her arrival, Ysabella had stomped about his cavern, huffing and puffing and tutting at things. Yolluagh just sat on his hoard pretending to sleep, trying to make sense of events.

Eventually, Ysabella stormed up to him.
“Right you lazy Dragon” she shouted, kicking him in the shin “We’ll make a start in the kitchen!”
“Kitchin?” he enquired, struggling with the new word.

“Where you keep your food” she stated impatiently.
“But I don’t keep food here, I go out and get food when I’m hungry.”
“Take-aways!” she spat. “Typical man! Well that stops right now! No wonder your complexion is so bad!”

“Komplekshun?” Yolluagh felt like he was drowning.
“Well look at you!” she fumed, “You’re all red and scaley.”
“But… But I’m a Dragon!” He protested

“Mother said there’d be nothing but excuses. Well from now on you’ll eat properly, or not at all! And just look at this mess, all this gold just lying around. I hope you don’t expect me to dust it!”

“It’s my bed!” he squeaked, as he stretched all four legs protectively around his hoard

Ignoring him, she started walking around looking at everything critically, her arms behind her back, with a far away gleam in her eye. “We can use it to start making improvements around here she said, like a kitchen and a proper bed.” She purred. “And anyway having that much gold around only attracts the wrong sort of people.”

“But I’m a Dragon!” He protested again, “Nobody comes here!”
“Well they will, now that I am Great Lady Ysabella, I shall be expected to entertain, and I don’t want people thinking we are ghastly Nuevo riche.”

Yolluagh’s head was spinning; his whole world had turned upside down.
“I was holding out for a Prince you know,” she said sadly. “This is such a disappointment. I had ordered glass slippers and everything.”

Yolluagh’s ears perked up, faint glimmerings of hope beginning to pop into his head.
“A Prince?” he asked, “That would make you a Princess would it?” he enquired hopefully.
“Yes, “She enthused, dreamily waltzing around the room with an imaginary partner. “Princess Ysabella!”

“Well, do you actually need a Prince to become a Princess?”
Ysabella stopped dancing and put her hands on her hips, and frowning, said
“Well no, I suppose not, but I should need an ivory tower. Who ever heard of a Princeless Princess without an ivory tower”

“Who would I need to talk to in the village about building you an ivory tower” asked Yolluagh, perhaps a little over eagerly.
“Malt” she said brightly. “He is the village elder, and the man who brought me here.”
“Malt Dinsley.”