dragons Drakevisions (Mature) (Chapter Two)

[Baby Jemma]

Hey-lo, and welcome to my medieval fantasy (with dragons) version of an adult baby story: Drakevisions! Now, our dragons are quite different in this story (and it will be explained later on), but I wanted an exciting first chapter to start with.

Now, there are numerous content warnings for this story. This is definitely under the realm of mature for a very good reason. In this chapter alone, there's implied war crimes, stated sexual assault (including one case of a teen) and implied abuse stemming from this, implied baby dragon killing, major violence (including blood and broken bones), and implied murder and mass murder, including that of baby dragons. Later on, we'll be delving into a few more of those themes plus brainwashing and gaslighting, transphobia, bullying, sexism, bigotry against small town people, war crimes, animal (dragon) cruelty, abuse of both humans and baby dragons, character death, implied intentions of genocide, and various other topics. I advise people to ONLY get into this if you're willing; I will never ask people to read this if they don't want to. Please remember: VIEWER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED.

About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Thank you in advance!

And now, for the first chapter of Drakevisions!

 

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Chapter One: Visions of the Past

 

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Ermendrud was nervous for her first day at her job for Queen Dominica, First of Her Name, Ruler of the Five Realms, The Beauty of the World.

 

Well, technically, it wasn’t just the Queen that needed it; it was the entire city of Blodham and everyone in the Light Realm from the evil drakes in the Shadow Lands and the treacherous, loathsome Oathbreakers who led them. It was the job of the Immortals, the Queen’s famed major army, to protect the villages, but after the drakes had torn through Deofolmece, the second-largest city in the Light Realm, slaying all in their wake, it was almost becoming a necessity to find a weapon that could stop them. Not that it was easy, because even wounding a full-grown drake was considered almost impossible.

 

No, Ermendrud wasn’t in the Immortals; only those big enough, strong enough, fast enough, and brave enough were capable - and she was none of those: only a girl of seven-and-ten, shy and gentle as a flower, and the Immortals did not allow women in their ranks, by order of the Queen. Her job was egg raising, drake egg raising, to be precise, along with many others who either intended to join the Immortals or make drake bloodletting a career.

 

Drake blood had a potency that was unmatched. It was said to cure any sickness, no matter how much it spread, any wound, even mortal ones. It could even cure deformities in babies and children. And thus, even with how dangerous fully-grown drakes were, the eggs - and the little drakes inside of them - were immensely important.

 

It was a blessing and a curse, then, that drakes were immortal…in a manner of speaking. Kill one, and its body would simply return to being an unbreakable - yes, unbreakable; swords, hammers, axes, spears, all of them would shatter on impact - egg, which then hatched it into a baby drake all over again in two years. Out of all five species of drakes, only the rare phoenixdrakes would ever remember any of their previous lives, sure, but it meant that nothing would ever put them down for good.

 

And so Ermendrud was to harvest the blood of baby drakes, she pondered, as she walked over to the gatehouse where she was to sign up, all the way from her small village of Blaecham. She kept wondering if that was a good idea, to kill babies of any kind for blood, but drakes were cruel to humans, were they not?

 

“Hey, Ermy! Are you listening?”

 

“Are you ignoring us on purpose? I’m hurt, Ermy; I thought we were friends?”

 

“Realm to Ermy, are you there?”

 

Ermendrud turned to her three lifelong friends - all from the same village she was from, all seven-and-ten years of age, and all staring at her - startled out of her thoughts.

 

There was Faramund, a six foot, five inch and somewhat heavyset man at nineteen stone exact with oily, caramel brown hair that was slicked back to the nape of his neck, a patchy beard with slight ginger hints on a face with a jutting jaw and high cheekbones, and cautious green eyes, his muscles showing from his short brown shirt and breeches. He was the smart and serious one, wise beyond his years, always the one with a solid plan to do things every day, stoic and always reliable, even with his analytical mindset.

 

Second was Widogast, a tall and gangly man at six feet, five inches and fourteen-and-a-half stone, with shoulder-length strawberry blond hair, a thin mustache and the hints of a wispy goatee, and mischievous gray eyes on a rodent-like face, his long dyed blue shirt and brown breeches baggy on him. He was always ready with a joke that nobody else seemed to get, a constant grin on his face, always positive and willing to cheekily argue with the more dour Faramund, constantly keeping up their spirits.

 

Finally, there was Wulfgifu, a woman taller than any of them and most grown men at six feet, seven inches weighing fourteen stone, with large breasts and hips showing through her long homespun brown dress, long and curly burnt-orange locks falling to the small of her back, and icy-blue eyes filled with surprising warmth on her chubby face. She was brash and bold, confident and dauntless almost to a fault, but stronger than any man she knew, despite being a woman, never to be bettered by any man. And yet, she was a very kind and nurturing woman as well.

 

All stood there with bags carrying their meager possessions (it wasn’t that they were poor; they just didn’t have as much as the castle inhabitants did), seemingly waiting on her to pay attention.

 

Ermendrud shuffled her bag on her shoulder nervously, her long auburn hair pinned into a bun, even though lengths of it still fell into her hazel eyes, shifting from the lightest brown to a brownish-green in the light, each with gold flecks. She was small for a woman at 5’1” and slightly heavier than seven stone. Her plain brown dress purposely hid her breasts, large for her size, even though her petite frame would do her no favors on the childbearing (partially why she wanted not to have children, along with not wanting the responsibility).

 

She and her friends called themselves “The Four Routiers”, having known each other since early childhood. They protected each other (well, it was mostly her three friends protecting her, but she helped dress their wounds afterwards; she was slated to be a healer early on before the interest in drake-keepers grew and her profession was changed), they sang together, fought together, did everything together.

 

And now they were becoming drake-keepers and moving to the castle together. The thought was a lot for her.

 

“Well, um, I was just thinking about the drakes in question,” she answered, her thoughts on the potential hatchlings. “It just seems like a lot, you know? Coming from Blaecham all the way to Castle Tungol…who would’ve thought?”

 

“Who would’ve thought it would be us?” Wulfgifu answered kindly. “Why shouldn’t it be us, Ermy? We’ve more than earned our way, learning how to read, even in our small hamlet, learning as much as we could. Isn’t this what it’s supposed to be?”

 

“And it’ll be fun!” Widogast said eagerly. “I want to see what the drakes are like as well!”

 

“You mean before we kill them?” Faramund finished. “That’s what they’ll be expecting. I don’t like it one bit, and neither does Ermy; I can tell.”

 

“Fary dour, ever sour,” Widogast snarked before finishing in a dark tone, “There’ll probably be Immortals that do that. I never want to be one, even if they demand it. Not now, not ever.”

 

“Never is right,” Faramund agreed with vehemence in his tone. “After the Sack of Wolcenham? After everything we’ve lost? Never.”

 

“Even if I was a man, never,” Wulfgifu echoed, her voice raw with fury. “Never, ever, ever.”

 

Ermendrud felt empathy towards all of her three friends, as they stood outside of the castle gatehouse, thinking about the Immortals. All of her friends’ fathers and mothers had died while in service as infantry to the Immortals against the drakes (which led to the law that no woman could join the Immortals after they had been killed by the drakes). Widogast had lost his older sister after she got into a fight with an Immortal when he was eight, and Faramund had lost his older brother during the sack. Killed in battle, was what he stated an Immortal said to him, but he knew that was a lie. As for Wulfgifu’s anger against the Immortals, all of her family, down to the newborn baby, had been butchered by what she believed were Immortals when she was a child, the only survivor of the attack. The Immortals said the murderers were bandits, but she never believed them.

 

Meanwhile, Ermendrud was the product of a brutal rape by some horrible excuse of a man, her mother being younger than she was when it happened, having barely survived the birth, according to the midwife who had told the story to Ermendrud. Her mother always said she never wanted her, that she hated her child, that her eyes reminded her of her rapist every single time, to never come back after permanently kicking her out of the house when she was a child. Her gentle heart knew that her mother was just traumatized from what had happened, and others wiser than she had said her mother was far too young to properly care for her. She had no idea who her father was and never wanted to know, if that was the kind of “man” he was.

 

The four had been mostly raised by a kindly friar by the name of Ealhstan (now Brother Ealhstan); a compassionate man who helped them along with the nuns of Blaecham, keeping them from the more unsavory orphanages and telling the four that they were a family and to hold onto those bonds for their days…and so they did.

 

“HEY! Are you four just going to stand out there gawking?!”

 

All four of them jumped when they heard the sound of a gruff woman, part of a group of three women who revealed themselves. The speaker was a bit taller than most women, willowy, clad in leather armor, a dagger at her hip. A scowl was on her freckled face. The other two women were also tall and more portly than the speaker, but clad in the same armor.

 

Wulfgifu answered for all of them. “We’re supposed to be drake-keepers. This is where we sign up, right?”

 

“Drake-keepers? You four? HAH!” The woman spat on the ground. “You and everyone in every small backwater town!”

 

“We had letters that told us to sign-”

 

“Nobody cares!” the speaking woman snarled. “Nobody cares about you fucking poor hicks!”

 

“Who says we aren’t wealthy?” Widogast asked cheekily.

 

“Your clothes, smartarse,” the woman growled. “Cheek me again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

 

Widogast gave a sneaky look at the woman before touching his right cheek, then his left, before he finally stuck his tongue out.

 

“Fucking cocksucker!” The woman rushed at Widogast almost faster than Ermendrud could blink, her dagger drawn. One of them drew her own dagger, while the other had a sword, both rushing Faramund and Wulfgifu, obviously saving the smaller Ermendrud for last.

 

Widogast dodged the initial knife swipe, landing a solid blow on the woman’s nose that broke it, leaving her gasping in anger. Ermendrud, seeing Wulfgifu holding the arms of the sword-bearing woman to prevent the two-handed sword from coming down, gave a quick kick to the woman’s leg with her heavy boot that sent her crumpling to the ground with a crack, howling in pain, before Wulfgifu knocked the woman out with a blow to the head. Faramund had disarmed the other dagger-wielding woman with a hard twist, breaking the woman’s wrists as she screamed, before kicking the dagger away from her.

 

The willowy woman flipped the knife to her other hand, stabbing at Widogast, who merely sidestepped the attempt and landed a blow that knocked a few of her teeth out, leaving her stumbling before he finally disarmed her and held her arms behind her back.

 

“You fucker!” she spat, blood pouring from her nose and mouth on the ground, trying to squirm out of the skinny teenager’s grip like a bucking horse. “All your hands will be mine for touching knights! And then I’ll have your tongues, and then your cocks and tits, too, you fucks!”

 

“What do our cocks and breasts have to do with anything?” Widogast asked, rolling his eyes. “We don’t want to fuck you or nurse you; we just wanted to know where to sign up for the drake-keeper occupation.”

 

“You fucking hicks will never get it! And I’ll still have your fucking hands, tongue, and cock!”

 

“Really know only those words, don’t you?” Widogast said, rolling his eyes again before he nodded at Ermendrud, to which she quickly gathered the swords and daggers away from the three knights.

 

“Listen, you dumbarses, you attacked us for no good reason,” Faramund said coldly, still holding the other woman’s arms behind her back. “We only wanted to know where to sign up, not deal with you idiots.”

 

“What the Hell is going on? Who are you four?”

 

Ermendrud noticed the people coming in with a sinking heart. More knights. Men this time, a score and a half of them, in full plate armor. Half of them had arrows notched on longbow strings aimed at them, ten of them had swords, while the other five were on horseback with spears.

 

We’re so fucked…

 

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Some of the names have been taken from Anglo-Saxon English. There's a whole list of words that I used for the towns and stuff, so keep that in mind.

 

With that, I hope y'all enjoyed~

[ABAlex]

Always like the combination of ABDL and meadaval fantast

Will there be more?

[Baby Jemma]

20 hours ago, ABAlex said:

Always like the combination of ABDL and meadaval fantast

Will there be more?

Absolutely, there will be more! Medieval fantasy is so much fun to write, and the story of these four teens is far from done.

[ABAlex]

4 hours ago, Baby Jemma said:

Absolutely, there will be more! Medieval fantasy is so much fun to write, and the story of these four teens is far from done.

Awesome!  

[Guilend]

I just finished reading this. It’s a great start. I also love medieval and abdl. I’m excited to see where this goes. 

[Baby Jemma]

On 2/10/2026 at 7:06 PM, ABAlex said:

Awesome!  

 

On 2/10/2026 at 7:09 PM, Guilend said:

I just finished reading this. It’s a great start. I also love medieval and abdl. I’m excited to see where this goes. 

Well, it's been a while, but here's another chapter of Drakevisions! As a slight content warning: bigoted language from two antagonistic characters. Now, let's move on to the chapter:

 

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Chapter Two: Visions of a Noble Spearman

 

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Ermendrud looked at the knights, wondering if it was the end. None of them looked like Immortals (Immortals had a blood-red handprint sigil on the breast of their plate armor; these knights had separate sigils on shields, and no sigil on their armor.), but that didn’t mean that she and her three friends were any less screwed by attacking knights, even if it was self-defense.

 

They don’t care about smallfolk like us.

 

“State your business!” one of the knights on horseback - obviously the leader - barked from beneath his visor.

 

“We’re just trying to be drake-keepers,” Faramund answered. “These knights didn’t believe us and attacked us first with lethal intentions. We defended ourselves.”

 

“LIAR!” the female knight shouted. “He’s a fucking liar; he and his thugs attacked without warning! They were mugging us, obviously to rob us of our silver to buy hemp!”

 

Everyone - the teenagers, the swordsmen, the bowmen, the spearmen, including the lead knight, and even the remaining conscious knight who attacked them - stared at the female knight for a long time…before one of the spearmen on horseback started laughing.

 

“Gods, you lie as easily as breathing, and honestly, you suck at both, Dame,” the spearman wheezed. “Hells, you lie so much and so badly that it makes anyone with a brain look bad.”

 

“You fucking-”

 

“Yes, four young teenagers with absolutely no weapons on them were mugging you to buy hemp when all that they asked for was to go where the drake babies are for their job,” the head knight said coldly, signaling for the men to stand down. “Are you that incompetent and incapable of coming up with a decent lie that actually makes any sense?”

 

“I’m not ly-”

 

“Witnesses were watching the entire time from the castle ramparts and notified us.” The head knight sounded angry, his tone contemptuous. 

 

“They broke my nose!” she screamed.

 

“And honestly, I’m tempted to snap your neck, just for giving what I do a bad name,” the head knight said coldly. “Losing to four unarmed peasant children, you embarrass our profession, you embarrass me personally. You, children. Let the knights go; we won’t allow harm to come to you.”

 

Widogast unceremoniously dropped the head female knight on her ass, while Faramund let go of the one with the broken wrists as she sobbed.

 

“I’ll kill you fucking hicks and piss on your fucking graves!” she spat impotently, not eager to disobey the leader and attack, but eager enough to continue insulting the four young adults.

 

“Please try to insult us better and louder; I’m sure you could reach the rare thunderdrake who didn’t already hear you from here,” Widogast snarked.

 

“Arrogant fucking hick!”

 

Wulfgifu rolled her eyes and said, “If you’re so much wealthier than us, how did we buy more class than you?”

 

“Fuck you, you spread-clit cunt!”

 

The knight beckoned to the sword carriers. “Restrain the knights so they don’t do anything stupid, and please fucking gag Dame Henriett; I tire of listening to her.”

 

“Aye, Sir!” Three of the swordsmen did just that, as the female knight attempted to scream vile obscenities from her gag.

 

“Excuse me, Sir?” Ermendrud decided to ask for her friends; even though she was nervous as hell, her friends were too absorbed in the back-and-forth. “Do you know where the drake-keeper area is? We traveled a ways after we received our letters, and we…we don’t know where everything is…”

 

The head knight nodded beneath his helmet. “Do you four children have your letters?”

 

Each of the four pulled out their letters, having traveled with them just in case. The head knight examined each of them…before nodding with approval.

 

“Proof enough. Then I’ll have Sir Stithulf show you. Show the children all of the city, Sir; if they got letters from the Queen Herself, it means that she vetted them, and she’ll be quite upset if things get lost.”

 

“Yes, Commandant Hrothgar!” the knight who had laughed earlier answered swiftly and seriously, as he saluted Hrothgar from his horse before he turned to the four friends. “You four, follow me. I’ll try to move at a reasonable pace.”

 

Sir Stithulf did move at a reasonable pace for a man on a horse, but it was brisk, and Ermendrud felt a bit of exhaustion trying to keep up, as the knight continued on his way, the citizens of the castle moving out of the horse’s path, pointing out landmarks along the way.

 

At least the man is noticeable, she thought; the knight was muscular and wearing heavy plate armor along with his spear and a red kite shield adorned with the sigil of a large black rat wielding a sword on a vert fleur-de-lis, the field being ermine in color.

 

“Why a rat sigil?” Faramund was the one who had the courage to ask the knight. “Aren’t they…sneaky?”

 

“Rats are survivors,” Sir Stithulf explained politely, as if he had been asked this many a time…and yet, there was patience in his tone as well, as if he wasn’t tired of explaining. “Intelligent, adaptable to any situation, cunning, that’s what rats are. You win more fights and live longer lives when you’re being smart than you ever would with strength or nerve alone. You fought well against three knights, but had no one seen you fight, you’d have your hands, feet, and likely more taken from you for good.”

 

Sir Stithulf’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but it stuck in Ermendrud’s craw, and from the looks on her friends’ faces, it stuck in theirs as well.

 

“Hardly seems fair,” Widogast muttered.

 

“Fair has nothing to do with it,” the knight answered calmly. “Life simply isn’t fair to those who don’t take advantage of it. Had you not had orders from the Queen Herself, much like us, you would not be as fortunate. All that’s necessary is to follow her orders, and all will be well.”

 

Ermendrud was uncomfortable with those words as she continued following the knight. Following others slavishly, even someone as powerful as the Queen…it didn’t sit right with her to do whatever she was told without knowing why.

 

The Immortals do that all the time, say they’re just following their superiors’ orders, but my friends…what did their family members do to deserve getting killed?

 

“We’re here. Now I’ll be off, but should you ever need my help again, I'll be at the south gate.”

 

Ermendrud was shaken out of her thoughts with the arrival to the building, as Sir Stithulf left on his horse with a swift trot.

 

The drake-keeping area was a large building of stone and very little wood except for the doors. One person - a short and slim, pale-skinned man who seemed to be their age with long curly black hair on a gaunt face, wearing black leather armor - was already in front of the door, obviously waiting for it to open. He glared at the newcomers.

 

“Who are you?” he asked coldly.

 

“Who are you?” Widogast asked back.

 

“I am Kazimiru. Now, I’ll ask you again, since you were rude: who the hell are you?”

 

“We’re fellow drake-keepers,” Faramund growled, knowing that the man wasn’t exactly being nice.

 

“Some drake-keepers, with those clothes,” Kazimiru sniffed. “Not even regulation made. And no first names?”

 

“Ermendrud,” Ermendrud answered. “My friends are Faramund, Widogast, and Wulfgifu.” She gently gestured to each of her friends.

 

“Well met.” The young man’s expression didn’t change from his haughty frown, but his chocolate-brown eyes seemed to regard her with a semblance of kindness. “I suppose you’ll be issued regulation clothing as we blood-let the drakes; even the babies can be dangerous.”

 

“I wonder if it will be comfortable,” Wulfgifu muttered.

 

“Comfort has nothing to do with it. I’ve read all about drakes, you know. I know how dangerous they are, and if you don’t follow the rules, it will be a safety hazard for all of us.”

 

Ermendrud didn’t sigh like the others did, knowing Kazimiru was an obvious rule stickler. At least it seemed like he was somewhat approachable.

 

“Hey, babe,” a voice crooned behind her. “How about you ditch the faggots and come with a real man?”

 

Ermendrud froze like a captured deer, looking behind her to see five young men, all obviously there for the drake-keeping. Each of them were handsome in their own way, and the most handsome one of all was a tall young man, four inches taller even than Wulfgifu, with a fair-skinned, unblemished face, blond hair down to the nape of his neck, sky-blue eyes like sapphires that could’ve charmed birds from their nests - if they weren’t as hard as sapphires - and a more muscular build than even Faramund.

 

The other four were handsome in their own way, fair skinned with various colored hair, with cruel gemstones for eyes, tall and muscular (but not as much as the blond youth).

 

“Call me a faggot one more time, and you’ll regret it,” Kazimiru snarled, drawing a long, thick dagger/sword hybrid - a seax - and pointing it at the young man.

 

“You’re the biggest fag of all,” the young blond man said dismissively before he eyed Ermendrud up and down like a piece of meat. “But you and the tall girl are beautiful. Got time to go with a real man?”

 

Ermendrud had no time for this shit. “I’d rather fuck a drake,” she said, rolling her eyes as she stated the tried-and-true Light Realm method of saying, “Not in your wildest fantasies.”

 

The youth’s eyes narrowed, and she didn’t back down. “I’m Badurad, and you will regret saying that, cunt. I will be an Immortal after this one job, and you will be sorry you ever rejected me.”

 

“Oh, lovely, someone else who thinks with his cock,” Widogast said, rolling his eyes.

 

One of the other young men went over to Widogast and attempted a swing at him…only to be blocked by an absolutely enormous knight about the size of Badurad, stout, and in full armor with a helmet.

 

“Enough, all of you,” the knight growled in a feminine voice. “Unless I need to fucking put all of you over my knee since none of you have learned any manners.”

 

“Who are you?” Badurad asked haughtily.

 

“Dame Ingeborg, and I’m the one who will be teaching you about drake-letting. Now follow me, and if you attack each other again, you will be sorry you were ever born. Move.”

 

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Hope y'all enjoyed~