The Assassin Doll and the Dragon Girl – Fantasy One-Shot

It was peaceful now, but not as much as Mira enjoyed.

Usually, after a successful ambush, she’d carve her proof of killing from the body of the Wizard and be on her merry way, leaving the rest of the bod to rot. Wolves and birds of prey were far too smart to take a bite and they would just leave it to stain the land with the remains of the magical energies running through its body, like a pool of venom spurting from a meadow. 

She’d then find a nice secluded spot where to take a rest and check herself up. 

In her long years of hunting, Mira had learned she had to strike first or strike never: an alerted Wizard was one that could turn your insides out with a gesture, or throw knives of mercury at you, or make you their slave.

That was the reason why she enjoyed the quiet of the night after she had retrieved her quarry: it gave her time to think and to fall back to a lower level of activity.

Something rustled besides her. 

Mira frowned, her eyes flashing for a moment in annoyed gold, casting a glow on her greasy face. She turned to find her guest (she still thought of her as a guest) looking at her. 

“Weren’t you supposed to get some sleep,” she vocalized.

“You’re strong, lady,” the girl replied, ignoring her question.

Mira’s frown deepened. What kind of statement was that? She wasn’t nearly as strong as she needed to be.

But maybe her guest was still a bit confused.

She regarded her beneath the silver moonlight. A petite girl, who might not have looked older than a young human female of twenty, with auburn skin and long, ridged crimson horns departing from her head. 

Those were seldom found on humans.

At least far away from the Borderlands.

The girl shifted, displaying the thick scaly tail that sprouted from her back. A few more signs stood out: from her golden eyes with a slit pupil to the few square plaques covering her elbows and her thighs, it was clear this girl had some kind of draconic admixture to her.

“Thanks,” she replied. Those golden eyes never stopped to looking at her. Maybe this would shut her up. Didn’t dragons sleep?

She knew very little about their kin. The last big one still living in the lands of the Treviri Throne had been killed a few years back.

Which wasn’t good news at all!

Now she had to travel to the Borderland to find the exotic materials she needed, and they would cost her a lot more. 

“Don’t you need to sleep?” The girl asked her, tilting her head. “I thought dolls slept. Mine used to, as well.”

“I do not,” Mira replied. “I do not sleep, I do not eat. I do need some peace and quiet from time to time, you know. Helps with my recovery routine,” she hissed.

Maybe she would get the hint.

Mira shifted as well, standing up and checking on the back of her shoulder – she stood about as tall as a human female, but her smooth body was covered from head to toe in black paint, a greasy cover that made her look almost invisible against the night sky. Only where that bastard Wizard had caught her with one of his singing spells, she showed the tetraceramid beneath, sparkling white like dusted marble.

“Tch,” she lamented. “That one is gonna need some work.” She sit down once again and produced her tools from one of her bags: a brush and a thick glass vial filled with protective grease.

“You’re white beneath,” the girl marveled, her left hand lingering forward as if she wanted to touch her body.

Mira couldn’t shiver – but she came close.

“Do not touch me.”

“Oh. My apologies,” she replied, looking down and away. 

Mira began to press certain spots and to pull up a hook on the juncture of her arm. It popped off with a hiss of pressurized air. She cradled it in her lap and began to apply the new coat over the scratches. 

Even after a hard battle, it helped her relax. It took her mind away from the present and let it wander beneath the stars and over the clouds, towards places she had never been to, places where she coul-

“Why do you paint yourself?”

“Why are you making all these questions,” she barked, her eyes glowing a threatening red.

“I’m curious.”

“Well-“ Mira hesitated. She stunted her, and her eyes turned to a neutral silver.

She did not expect such an earnest reply.

“You know what they say about the curiosity and the cat.”

“I don’t! What do they say?”

Oh, she was hopeless.

Then again, it was the first time someone asked her that kind of question.

A strange urge filled her synapsids – to tell the girl all about her, to finally share all her thoughts and her fears and her hopes.

She couldn’t do that.

But perhaps-

“Listen now,” she turned, setting her blue-glowing eyes into the girl. “I need some peace to cater to my repairs. I always do it in silence, and I am not going to change this habit just because I picked you up. Understood?”

“Understood,” she nodded, making her big horns sway.

“But I can answer a few questions. After that, though, you are going to bed. You need some rest.”

The girl hesitated. Mira reached for her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze with her black-painted fingers. 

“You need to recover as well. What will happen if we find your family and they see you tired and malnourished? That won’t do, don’t you think?”

“Oh. Yes. That makes sense!” She perked up. “I’m going to show Mom and Dad I can deal with many nights in the wilderness!” Her tail wiggled excitedly.

Maybe not the proper way to get her ready for bed, but she chose to hope it was an improvement.

“Very well. Three questions. Then it’s bed time.”

“Sure! Thank you lady! So, uhm, why do you paint yourself? You are so pretty beneath, like white stone!”

“It’s not stone,” she explained. “It’s tetraceramid. It’s like porcelain, but much, much harder. I paint myself because the people I hunt are Wizards, and Wizards are always much, much stronger during the night. They get confident. Careless. Don’t see me coming,” she finished with a satisfied smile.

“Oh. Like the two you slashed yesterday.”

Mira replayed in her mind the sight of a scruffy, scared girl with big golden eyes and slitted pupils, looking at her from between the bars of a cage.

She had the same scars all over her auburn skin.

But she had broken her chain and her iron muzzle.

“… yes.” And a few hundred more. 

She left out those were still all third-rate conjurers. 

Her goals were far loftier.

“Second question,” she spurred her up.

“Hmmm- hey, are those jewels?” She pointed at her knuckles, glistening with all the colors of the spectrum from red to blue to purple. 

“No,” Mira chuckled. “Jewels would be far cheaper. These are iridenite implants. Set them myself.” At her silence, she stood up, leaving her other arm on the grass, and reached a thick black stone nearby. “It’s old stuff. From before the Capsizing. Look.” She balled a fist with her right hand and lashed the stone with it. Sparks flew in the night sky – and in their wake, four smooth cuts in the stone, glowing an angry red and then a deep crimson and then nothing. 

“Hey, I can do that too!” The girl stood up, rushing to the closest black rock – took in a roaring breath and-

“No, wait!” Mira dashed at her in one lightening-quick movement, rising a sharp cloud of dust and cut grass, covering the girl’s mouth just as she spew a torrent of white flames against the rock. The rest spew past her palm. 

The girl stopped breathing fire.

“I’m sorry!” She excused herself, looking up at her. “I didn’t know-”

“Tell me what you going to do, next time! We’re in the middle of nowhere, and dragonbreath can leave strong magical marks! If someone is following us already, I don’t want to make their job any easier!”

“S-Sorry. It won’t happen again!” She fidgeted, her auburn skin growing crimson around her ears. “I promise.”

“Just remember to tell me.”


“Let’s get on with it. Third and last question.”

That took a bit of time. The girl was hesitating, looking down at her palms and, from time to time, at her palm. Her breath had burned right through the paint, though the tetraceramid beneath seemed unaffected.

“W-Why…” She raked her brain, passing her taloned fingers through her blonde hair. “Why do you kill Wizards?”

Mira’s eyes flashed purple.

“Because someone pays.”

That was, technically, the truth.

She did leave out a few details, but the dragon girl did not really need to know about her actual goal. 

Someone pays.

And a certain someone would pay, too.

“Alright, time for bed now.”

“Hmmm. Alright,” the girl relented, laying on the grass next to her and curling herself up in the spare blanket she had given her. Mira did not really feel cold, but she did not really know how she worked.

She picked up her arm and began to apply the coat of protective paint once again. 

“Hey,” came a whisper. “What is your name?”

“We said three questions.”

“It’s something I will need to know! Don’t you think?”

Mira pointed her unused arm at her, making her fingers clatter softly.

“If I hear one more whisper after that I’m going to stuff your mouth with grass. Are we clear?”

She nodded.


“Mee-rah,” the girl repeated. “Mira. Very well. Goodnight, Mira.”

She turned and closed her eyes.

To her credit, after a few minutes her breath slowed down and her body lay still.

Mira lifted her attached hand and passed it over her brow.


As far as she could feel, she was indeed asleep.

Must be a dragon thing. 

She was alone again. 

But, as she spread the paint and kept working on her repairs, she discovered it was a different kind of being alone. One a bit more comfortable, for some reason. 

“Mira Secerna,” she said in a whisper, looking up at the star-streaked sky.

The Admired, Discarded.

Author’s Notes: still exploring new directions for the site after Patina’s conclusion. I like these two and they share an interesting dynamic. Might need to work a little more on world building beforehand, but they’re definitely a strong contender for new story to choose. I hope you liked the piece and let me know in case, if you’d like to see more!

In related news, it’s been 200 days of writing one after another!

Thanks for reading.


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