[Writing Prompt] The Princess Would Prefer Not To Be Rescued (Patreon)
Content
Just a little something I wrote while trapped in a car yesterday.
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"Seems kinda weird, I guess?"
The princess frowned. It was a very princess frown; the kind of expression that courtly tutors could never truly teach, the kind that a good queen would exercise on someone who had finally reached the end of her long patience. A storm, painted on a face. "Weird." She stated. She did not ask. Princesses did not ask.
The knight cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, I'm not exactly native to the area, but where I come from, typically interspecies romance is limited to... well..."
"Nothing, I suppose." The princess tapped a foot on the stone floor that bracketed the front 'door' of the cave.
"Well, no." The knight looked shocked. "Simply to those beings that can demonstrate sapience. Isn't that... I'm sorry, your country confuses me sometimes."
The princess would give him credit; he hadn't kicked in the door, sword drawn. Nor had he done that silly knight thing of showing up alone with only a horse for company. Instead, he'd brought a cheerful, but hard, group of men and women and vines that had built a small camp at the base of the hill. He had come up alone, though.
The princess was mildly taken aback, and showed exactly none of that. "My wife is perfectly sapient, thank you. Were you unaware that dragons are legally considered people, even under the rather poorly worded laws of our kingdom?"
"Ah, that answered the size question as well. And I suspect the poor wording is why they are counted people." The knight mused. "Your father was quite determined to have me believe otherwise."
A scoff. The smallest show of true emotion. "Is that why you're here, then? My father's word taken at face value?"
The knight again shook his head. "Of course not. We take nothing at face value. My, you're quick to judge for someone married to a fire breathing apex predator."
"As opposed to the apex predator of the political ecosystem my father would have me marry. Also, not all dragons breathe fire. Her aspect is Growth."
"Ah, apologies! I did not think." The knight rubbed the chinpiece of his helmet. He glanced back at the party behind him, then back to the princess, before shrugging. "Well, I suppose that's all that I need. Would you mind terribly if we afforded ourselves of your front lawn before taking our leave tomorrow?"
The princess now actually was confused. "I'm sorry." She said, the hard edge of command in her voice, masking confusion. "What is it exactly that you are here for?" Sometimes, questions were the only way to cut through the games. It had taken her love some time to train the ways of court out of her in that regard.
"Why, for the story, of course." The knight said cheerfully. "Your father gave us one side, you've given us another. I suspect there are a few more angles in the surrounding countryside and villages. Harder when you're talking to bit parts and not protagonists, you know, but we'll suss them out!" He backed up a few paces, and bowed. "Good day to you, my lady. And if your wife returns, do consider sending her our way for a chat!"
"Wait!" The princess called, as the knight started his way down the sloped dirt of the hill. She stepped out of the cave, skin prickling as she passed the enchantment that kept the heat in at night. "What are you?" She asked.
The knight turned, and smiled, and for just a second, the princess was no princess at all. She was a bold and curious and wondering peasant girl, looking at a gallant errant passing through her village. She was a wounded soldier seeing a second chance. She was a king seeing the most loyal paladin.
Then the moment passed.
"Why, we're bards, of course." He told her, smile still wide and white on his face.
She looked at him, then down at the heavily armed group below. Every one of them could have been the match of four of her father's soldiers. One of their packbeasts had a ballista mounted to it.
She caught herself, rebuilt her composure. "Bards. Quite a sort of storytellers wander around prepared to lay siege to a castle." Her etiquette training kicked in again; voice harmonious but not inviting, words inquiring but not revealing weakness. But the bard, of course, didn't need any of that.
"We are simple tellers of true tales, my lady." He said. "And you've met your father. You tell me; who's castle begs the siege?"