The idea of a dragon wife and an elf prince refused to leave my head, so I had to write the first chapter to get it out of my system.
I want to know if it has potential before I waste my time on world building and outline. I don't plan to publish Dragon Wife until I finish Villainess, but I need to know if it's worth pursuing, so any support for it would be appreciated. xD
You can skip this chapter.
Book Name: My Dragon Wife Refuses To Die
SYNOPSIS:
I, Xylan Krisk, the firstborn prince of the Elven Kingdom Tunie'll, hate Dragons.
These oversized lizards with wings and fire breath were the bane of all Elfkind for centuries.
While searching for the key to our salvation, my soul was plucked from my world and transported to another. Despite my elf memories no longer being present, my hatred for these beasts has never diminished.
But now, I have been summoned back to my world, the world where Dragons reign supreme. And I have to find a way to get rid of them, especially the Dragon Regent, Quina of the White Flame Clan.
The biggest bitch, as my old world would put it, I ever had the displeasure of meeting in my life.
She had decided to kidnap and torture me out of nowhere, because, in her words, "I want to see the proud Prince Xylan grovel at my feet."
I laughed, calmly, like a lunatic before his next kill. I gave her the middle finger as I went back to sleep on my prison cell's bed, ignoring her as if she were nothing but dirt underneath my fingernails.
Chapter 1
'Gods, I hate dragons.'
That was my initial thought upon waking up. I felt as though my body had been set aflame, writhing as I tried my best to resist the urge to scream.
A Dragon's claw had pierced through my chest in the nightmare. I felt it dig through me, puncturing a hole right between my ribs and ripping out whatever lay inside.
Despite no dragons existing in this world, a part of me almost believed that a dragon was going to be the death of me. It was a ridiculous notion, of course.
There was a higher chance of me dying in a car crash than an actual dragon, yet for whatever inexplicable reason, I had thought that was how I was going to die.
So, I joined a field where weapons of mass destruction were constantly being tested. You know, to face my fears or whatever.
The pay was good, so I had no problems working a job that had me constantly exposed to explosions.
Instead of dying to the experiments of mad scientists, however, those weapons ended up destroying the whole damn world.
But even after the Apocalypse, I had survived. Jokes on me, I guess.
I wiped my face, clearing away the sleep from my eyes, and took in the sight of the concrete ceiling, 'Food. Food would be nice.'
My stomach grumbled, agreeing with that thought. Slowly, I got up from my bed and shuffled my way to the bathroom. No water came out of the faucet, but that was fine.
I had gotten used to not washing my face first thing in the day, so I just stared at the man in the mirror, and I had to admit, I still looked good for whatever standards existed in the Apocalypse.
My hair was still its usual black color, and my eyes hadn't been completely drained of their emerald hue yet.
The Apocalypse had changed people, and I wish I would have felt guiltier for having contributed to that change. But instead, I was building an army to take down these dragons that did not even exist.
"Boss, are you up?" a voice came from a walkie-talkie attached to my tactical belt hanging on a chair next to my bed. "There is a horde of zombies wandering around our base. The guys are getting ready to kill them now. We will be leaving in ten minutes."
I looked down at the device and frowned. I picked it up and held down the PTT button as I replied, "The Drones are on cooldown right now. You better not do anything stupid and die, or else I'm taking the supplies from your corpse for myself. Over."
The voice snorted before responding, "Sure, Boss."
I grabbed a black jacket from my dresser, pulling it over my tank top. Then I grabbed my belt, strapping it to my waist.
Fighting zombies was a good preparation for fighting dragons, and I wanted to be prepared. So I sheathed a short sword in a scabbard on my belt and swung a rifle around my shoulders.
I was no soldier, just a man with a vendetta. The apocalypse had left me in a position of leadership. And with my experience as a supervisor at the military testing base prior to the apocalypse, I was now the de facto leader of our small settlement.
My motto 'only a dragon will be the death of me,' was something that had spread amongst the members of my settlement.
It was a stupid phrase. But the apocalypse made humans dumb, and it brought a feeling of reassurance to those under my command. Somehow.
I had no intentions of leading them to salvation or whatever. I was doing this to keep my skills sharp and ready for the inevitable.
The dragon attack.
And if that never happened, well, at least I would be safe.
Or so I told myself before my body collapsed and I watched it fall to the ground. Some strange symbols shined under me in a circle, sucking away my soul until it was completely gone.
'Fuck, I hate dragons. Fuck!'
Then I was gone. I don't usually curse, believing it would come across as an actual curse. Like 'fuck you' would be interpreted as 'may the universe fuck you', which I didn't really want. But in that moment, I couldn't help but curse.
"The summoning ritual is complete, Your Majesty. His Highness should wake up at any moment now."
"Is it truly my son?" someone asked, a male voice.
"Yes, Your Majesty. We are certain that the soul of His Royal Highness, Xylan, has been brought back to us."
"Thank the World Tree. My son has returned," it was a female voice this time.