Fairy Tales Ch 05 True Lives

True Lives

It's the oldest story: a Knight brave and true goes to slay a dragon and return a Princess

But what is a Knight? What does the Princess think? And what kind of Dragon is this?

The sages tell us, the King's oldest is taken by a Dragon before her wedding.

A Knight brave and true, volunteers to fetch her. (For surely one Knight is enough, and not an army? We don't question the wisdom of the sages.)

Her sisters stand sobbing and holding dainty kerchiefs, glancing at the Knight, adjusting their bosoms, flashing their gem-encrusted rings.

"Your Majesty! I am your man!"

"What commends you to this task? Are you more brave than other Knights? More skilled? Do you seek a reward?"

"I am brave! I won this lance from Hank the Sturdy, through a day and night of ferocious combat!"

He actually crept upon Hank's camp at moonrise and took him by surprise.

"I am skilled! I have trained this war horse for the task!"

The horse was beaten and frightened into bearing the load.

"And I seek no reward! But the King's favor!"

Which could be worth land, gold or even one of the lesser daughters.

The King's Vizier, a grey woman of stiff bearing and strange cloaks interrupted.

"Beware Knight, for the Dragon is tricky"

"What kind of Dragon be this? Are there more than one kind?"

The Vizier considered. "Oh yes, there are fire Dragons, and Dragons of ice. Dragons that fly and Dragons that burrow."

"Is this one of those, then?" The Knight was rattled but tried not to show.

"This be a White Dragon, a Dragon of Truth. It cannot be fooled."

"I have my steed and lance. What more will I want?"

"Take these magic pebbles, which can freeze any who trod on them in their tracks. If the Dragon get the advantage, simply retreat and spread them on the ground to regain the upper hand."

"I'll take your pebbles, but superstition and foolish gibberish will be no use against a mighty Dragon! And a noble Knight does not retreat!"

He pocketed the pebbles, then adjusted the favor on his lance, made the sign of the cross and stroked his lucky ferret's foot for good measure.

"The Dragon has power over those who are not True!"

"I speak only the truth and pledge I will return the Princess to her rightful place!"

The Vizier consulted an orb. "I see it is so." But she was troubled.

So, the Knight provisioned and departed on his noble (frightened) steed.

Three days and three nights up the mountain to the high places, the lair of the White Dragon they sought.

Over a crag they struggled and spied the Dragon on a high peak!

What strange apparition! One moment it appeared to be a giant worm; another an engine of wood and steel with steam flowing from its joints; but then a crystal form reflecting sunlight from every facet!

They labored on.

And then, they were there! The Dragon angry, standing fierce at the peak.

The Dragon now appeared as he expected a Dragon to be: a large violent beast with scales and teeth.

But what of the Princess?

She stood before a crack, leaning against the opening and looking on curiously, nibbling on a roasted joint. Alive and unharmed!

The Knight lowered the famous lance and charged.

The horse shut its eyes.

The lance broke to flinders on the Dragon's white quartz chest. This the Dragon ignored.

With one mighty paw it brushed the Knight from his steed, then in a single gulp consumed the steed, saddle, saddlebags and all.

The Knight landed in an untidy heap, dented and bruised. Struggled to his feet, he searched his pocket for the pebbles and threw them at the Dragon's feet.

The Dragon stomped the magic pebbles to dust.

It spoke.

"These things have no power here."

The Knight was outraged.

"But the lance was the finest steel! The charger, the strongest and most bold! The magic, from the King's Vizier!"

Dragon sighed.

"You were not true to them.

The lance was taken from another more honorable by unfair combat.

The steed was punished and coerced into service for no advantage to itself and lived in fear.

The magic you disparaged and the mage, insulted."

"What can that matter?"

"To men? Nothing apparently. But to a White Dragon, everything.

For I am the True Dragon. True means straight; it means aligned. True to Me, to the world, to others, to oneself.

Take this Princess for example. Made to wear dresses when she'd rather be in hunting leathers and worn boots.

Made to prostitute herself to a Prince for her Kingdom's glory. She'd much rather be shagging the kitchen maid with the bouncy boobies."

The princess looked away, smiling a lewd smile.

"Made to value baubles instead of skills and honor. See how the rags she wears, formerly were festooned with silk and jewels."

She wore just a few fragments of satin, her strong limbs and muscled belly naked, but it could be seen to once have been fine. She'd reworked what remained into a serviceable bandolier and breeches.

A stone knife stuck in a belt of fur, hafted a fine jewel chipped to a point.

"I took her from all that, so she could become true to herself. For only True things abide here."

Knight: "What say you, Princess? Are you ready to return to your duty?"

The princess had listened to all and considered.

"I've been happy sleeping on this mountain. I've learned to steal eggs from the high eyries and trap the elusive mountain voles for meat. I've learned to tell time by the sun and moon.

I'm sure I don't want to go back! I don't want you, Knight; I didn't want the Prince I'd been betrothed to. "

The Dragon yawned, showing yard-long teeth carelessly. "What would you want, if this were your last day beneath Heaven?"

"I want to hunt and sleep under the stars! Earn respect at the inn and drink ale, and yes! shag those bountiful boobies!"

Dragon turned to the Knight.

The Knight considered. Something in the Dragon's gaze compelled truth.

"I want respect from my peers. I want to use my skill at arms. I want small comforts in the evening. I want to travel and see strange things, like White Dragons and tall castles on hills."

The White Dragon lay down, placed its face on its paws. It seemed at ease. It was a thing of comfort and velvet now.

"And what are you waiting for?"

Startled, the Huntress and the Rogue, for that's what they were, looked at each other.

The Huntress was first to speak.

"Rogue, travel with me, watch my back while I watch yours! We'll range through the hills and the forests and do quests for the villagers, shag the boobies and drink the ale. We'll visit high towers and lonely isles and have an enormously good time!"

And so, they did.

They slew rampaging boars in forests, to the delight of the village elders and bar wenches. They occasionally waylaid travelers with too much wealth and too little sense. They helped wronged widows and restored stolen reputations. They made and lost fortunes.

And they shagged many, many boobies.

Their taste for adventure waned as they grew old.

The Rogue found a village with woman of exceptional tits, and a Lord who valued his skills. He trained knights in skill and kept the widows happy.

The Huntress hired on as a gamekeeper to a minor Duke, keeping the Duke's wife happy and the vermin in check and sleeping under the stars.

And if they have not died, they are doing it still.