In the greatest of tales, the prince saves the damsel in distress from a dragon. Yet, in this realm, there is made a mockery of knights. The heroines are those who save the day, and herein follows the tale of love and sacrifice, the story of one, Princess Margareta Maisy Rumillion.
“Margareta Maisy Rumillion!” Nearby servants winced as they watched their princess storm past in full battle armor while the tiny, yet commanding voice of her fairy godmother, Cloud-follower, rang out after her, the irate fairy flying as fast as her wings could take her. Ret had a determined look on her face that could only mean one thing: she was going on a quest.
“I’m going to talk to that dragon whether you ‘allow’ me to or not,” Ret said firmly, not even casting a glance to her guardian. “I’m certain that the rumors of the prince he has captured are true, and I can convince the dragon to release him.”
“Margareta Maisy, the bravest heroines of the realm have not managed to rescue this princeling in peril!” Cloud-follower admonished, finally managing to swoop up in front of her charge. “Ever since your foolish sister was slain while battling the Troll of Terror Tower, you have grown increasingly reckless! You must stop this at once.”
Unfortunately, as all of the servants morosely murmured, it was that very thing that kept princess Margareta Maisy Rumillion questing even more than the most valiant heroine the realm had ever known. And it was this that would keep her bent on this insane mission.
The princess set her golden helmet, which had previously been held in her arm, on her golden curls, her eyes steely and cold.
“Cloud-follower, I will save this prince, and I will do it without fear for myself or others,” Ret sad softly. “Now, you may come with me, or you may stay here with the people. It is your choice.”
The servants did not have to look to know what happened next. Their princess left, and with many angry and worried comments, the fairy followed. For where one went, the other was not far behind.
Prince Henry Frederick Charles Carmine Robert Andrew Phillip Spencer Benjamin Alexander Timothy Mike Charming was not doing well.
Mike, as he was affectionately known, was one of the most talented poets in the entire realm, although his kingdom was generally overlooked, and Mike as pretty sure that nobody knew that he was the one who wrote the epics of the great heroines of the realm. Unfortunately, one being had figured it out after a particularly unflattering depiction of him in one of Mike’s more famous epics- Lady Fontaine Camille Carmine Cynthia Carlita Corolla Magerian and the Dropping Dragon. Mike didn’t usually regret his works, but after the very dragon he’d written so comically about kidnapped him while he watched a heroine save a baby from a runaway carriage, he’d come to realize that maybe he should depict the villains in his stories in a kinder light.
That didn’t stop the dragon from keeping him prisoner to amuse him with anecdotes and poems. The dragon, as it turned out, was rather fond of Mike’s poetry overall, and had no intention of ever releasing him.
Life wasn’t all bad- Mike had plenty of very well done meat to eat, he had a very comfortable bed, and a fantastic view from the top of the mountain he was trapped on- but all the same, he would have loved to go home and gather some more inspiration from some local heroines.
In the meantime, he had been reduced to watching heroine after heroine come to rescue him like a common princeling and peril, and had watched heroine after heroine fail.
Now Mike watched with only slight interest as a woman in gold armor strode to the entrance of the dragon’s cave, standing without even unsheathing her sword. Whether she fought the dragon or not, it wouldn’t change anything. Mike had resigned himself to never being saved
Ret was extremely grateful that Cloud-follower had stopped trying to convince her to stop. It was futile, of course, and she’d been getting pretty close to commanding the fairy to return home.
As it was, Ret knew Cloud-follower was following at a distance. Dragons weren’t overly fond of fairies, so it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Lord Dragon!” Ret called, her voice ringing clearly into the cave. “I come to speak with you about the prince that you hold captive.”
Immediately there was a booming laugh, and a blast of sweltering air rushed out of the cave, causing Ret to sway backward, adjusting her feet for better balance. “My, my. Another heroine coming to save the little princeling,” the dragon growled, poking its large head out of the cave. “I suggest giving up, heroine. I have not been defeated by any who came to this cave.”
“Lord Dragon, I request that you release the prince immediately!” Ret said boldly, ignoring the dragon’s condescending tone. “And if you will not, please allow me to speak with him so that I may let his kingdom know of his honorable fate.”
The dragon seemed surprised by this. Ret knew that all of the other heroines had charged in with their swords swinging, harsh words bouncing across the mountain side. From her research, this dragon was a lonely, intellectual creature, who had likely captured the prince for company, indicating that the prince was smart, and well read. Dragons never captured humans without a purpose, Ret’s sister had told her this from the moment she was old enough to understand.
The dragon paused. “I suppose you may get the prince’s last words,” the dragon said reluctantly. “But if you try anything, then I will be forced to kill you, heroine.”
Ret felt a thrill of success run through her. She was sure that the dragon would end up letting the prince leave with her. All she had to do was discover its weakness. And after weeks of watching maiden after maiden fight the dragon, the prince likely knew any and all weaknesses that the dragon had.
Stepping carefully around the dragon towards the passage indicated by its deadly claws, Ret felt an unreasonable excitement. She rarely took on quests that involved saving princes. This was an exception. It was possible that it would be an exceptional encounter.
When she entered the small cave, she found the prince standing, waiting for her. He did not even look at her before bowing deeply and respectfully. “Milady,” he said formally. “Allow me to extend my gratitude to you for coming to save me. I apologize for the wasted journey.”
Ret felt her face flush as he straightened and she realized that he was incredibly handsome. Beautiful brown eyes were set in a strong face, with dark wavy hair, and a cleft in his chin. He was tall, and although he was slender, he appeared to be athletic. The only thing that caused his appearance to suffer was the look of melancholy on his face.
Ret realized that she was staring, speechless, and then was startled to realize that he was staring at her, equally awestruck.
“Milady Margareta Maisy Rumillion!” He finally gasped, bowing again. “I had no idea that it was you- I mean, I expected it had to be one of the heroines that hadn’t yet appeared, but for it to be your highness…”
“You know of me?” Ret asked, finding her voice, and feeling a kind of excitement build. Had he heard of her? Did he admire her?
“Do I? You are only one of the few heroines who I have been unable to truly capture in my songs and poems,” he said wistfully, his brown eyes softening. “Your admirable deeds have become far more so of late, but I have been trapped her, unable to witness them.”
“No!” Ret gasped, for she suddenly realized who she was speaking of. “You are the great Poet Prince! I’ve always loved hearing your writing. I hadn’t realized that the sudden lack of new content was because you were here. I have to get you out.”
“No! Milady, you cannot fight the dragon.” Ret was surprised to find that suddenly the prince was close to her, holding her hands in his. “He will slay you. I have watched him kill countless others without mercy, and I could not possibly bear to watch you die.”
Ret stared back, speechless. She had heard many other heroines speak with shock and delight of rescuing a princeling, just to have rescued their true love, but she had never imagined that she could do the same. Yet now, in the past five minutes, her life had changed. Everything seemed clear to her now, and all at once, she knew how to defeat the dragon.
“The sound of moonlight!” she gasped.
“What?” the prince stared back at her, confused.
“The dragon’s weakness,” she explained. “I knew I had read about this dragon before. He is one of the ancient beings whose weakness is the sound of moonlight.”
“But that is incredibly rare! The last instance of the sound of moonlight is when the Lady Cheyenne de Lamille di Genevra Montague was slain by the hand of Lord Carrick Gerril de Porpington Mimsy!” the prince protested. “In her dying breath, she requested that the moonlight morn her, and all other heroines who fall in battle.”
“And so it will,” Ret said, suddenly determined. “I shall cause the moonlight to make a sound.”
“No!”
“I will do it,” Ret said, turning to the prince- her prince. “I have to free you.”
“But then I will lose you,” the prince said. “I have just found you, and you do not even know my name.”
“Then tell it to me, so that I may know before I go,” Ret whispered, taking off her helmet, and turning to look up at him.
For a moment her prince was silent, then he pulled her towards him, his fingers twining in her hair. “My name is Mike. Call me Mike,” he murmured.
For a moment they stood there, and Ret was surprised by the whirl of emotion she felt for this man she barely knew- yet she did know him! She had read and loved his poetry for years, often wishing she could meet him. She’d studied it until she felt she knew it better than she knew the actual facts behind the stories.
“I love you, Mike. Call me Ret,” she said, wanting to hear her name in his voice. Wanting to memorize it before her time was out.
“Ret,” he breathed, and she felt a chill run down her spine. “I love you, milady.”
They stood together for another moment, then Ret pulled back, not letting her eyes meet Mike’s. “I must go,” she told him. “I will free you, on this you have my word.”
“Do not leave me,” he said, his brown eyes flaring with passion. “We have just found each other.”
Ret smiled at him, feeling her heart clench with pain. “The legend of Lady Cheyenne says that after the moonlight came, she was free to return wherever she wished,” she reminded him. “Just because she chose death does not mean that I must do the same.”
“We do not even know that the legend tells true!” Mike protested. “If this does not work, then I will be trapped, and you will be dead, and neither of us will be able to bear it, least of all me. By doing this, milady, you cause me greater pain than if I were to remain trapped by the dragon.”
“I must,” Ret said and kissed him lightly upon the lips. “For a poet is not meant to be tied down by any man.”
“And a princess is not meant to be slain for the man that she has just met,” Mike protested.
“Yet any lady would die for her lord,” Ret reminded him. Then, before he could stop her, she placed her helmet upon her head and swept out of the cave.
The fight was brief and terrible. Cloud-follower had heard it from a distance, and rushed in to help, only to arrive too late. The princess lay dying at the dragon’s feet, just as the moon rose into the sky. The dragon had struck a mortal blow as the princess blocked a strike that would have caused the mountains collapse. She had saved her prince, but she would now pay the price. Cloud-follower allowed tears to fall from her tiny eyes as she heard the sound of moonlight. It was a sound much talked about in fairy circles, although it was all very hush-hush. As a general rule, heroines that fell in battle generally chose to take the honorable death as opposed to the opportunity for life, and Cloud-follower knew her charge to be no different.
The sound of moonlight did its work, and the dragon wailed in pain as the ancient magic turned his scales into stars and his inner fire into an eternal flame, left to burn on this mountain forever, signifying that the sound of moonlight had been heard here. Cloud-follower flew to her princess, but before she got there, a cry of grief rose from the entrance to the cave, and she turned to see a young man rush towards the princess, gathering her in his arms
Cloud-follower felt a seed of hope blossom in her heart, for never had her princess found a reason to live- until now.
Mike held Ret gently in his arms, having removed her helmet from her bloodstained head so that he could see her blue eyes, her golden curls, her soft lips. “Milady,” he whispered. “My Ret. You have saved me.”
Ret smiled. She didn’t seem to be in pain, belying the deep wound in her chest. Her armor shattered, her clothing torn, she would have looked broken, had it not been for the pure joy in her eyes. “That is all I wanted,” she breathed. “For you to be safe, my love.”
“And all that I want is for you to live!” Mike cried and kissed her gently. Her arms wrapped around his neck, the warrior, and the poet, both more in love than either of them could have imagined.
It will come as no surprise that the last poem penned by Prince Henry Frederick Charles Carmine Robert Andrew Phillip Spencer Benjamin Alexander Timothy Mike Charming was titled Lady Margareta Maisy and Her Poet Prince. For it is a rare heroine who will give her life to defeat a dragon and save her prince.
The End.
