“I’m telling you, boys, that chick is absolutely off her rocker,” says Sir Chad the Man.

“Oh, come off it, Chad,” says Sir Charlie of the Wing, “you’re just upset you couldn’t slay that dragon.”

Sir Chad slams his pint glass down and points at Sir Charlie. “I could have slayed that damn dragon and you know it. The princess just got in the way and wouldn’t let me!”

“What do you mean, Chad?” Says Sir Kyle of the Wall.

“I mean that princess is coo coo for coco puffs is what I mean!” Chad says shaking his head. “I had the dragon dead to rights. Just as I was about to bring my sword down upon its neck, she ran into the room screaming bloody murder. She started shooting arrows at me and even threw an exploding pot,” he says as he lifts his shirt to show a wound on his abdomen, “bitch got me good. Said I wasn’t welcome at her castle and to get the fuck out.”

“Some thanks for trying to save her,” says Sir Kyle. “I swear, these princesses these days are ungrateful.”

“Right?” says Chad. “Like, damn lady, I was just trying to help you out.”

“Well, just to play devil’s advocate here,” says Sir Charlie, “did she ever ask for your help?”

Chad stares at Charlie with a puzzled, blinking expression, as if his brain were trying to send a distress signal via Morse code. “Why would she need to ask, Charlie? She’s a Princess. In a castle. Guarded by a dragon. I’m a Knight. What more do I need to know?”

“Well, quite a lot actually,” says Charlie. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe she’s happy in the castle? Or even better, that the dragon is her pet?”

“Her pet?” Says Sir Kyle of the Wall. “Who keeps a dragon as a pet?”

“Well, a rich and powerful princess for one,” says Charlie.

“Oh fuck off Charlie,” says Chad, “she doesn’t keep the dragon as a pet. You know what I think? I think she’s got that Stockholm syndrome. You know, the one where the hostage falls in love with their captor. It only makes sense.”

Sir Kyle nods in affirmation. “Yeah, yeah, that does make sense, Chad. You gotta go back there and try again tomorrow, she definitely needs your help—now more than ever.”

“You’re right!” says Chad. “I need to go back there and this time succeed in slaying that beast and taking her hand in—“

“I really wouldn’t do that, Chad,” says Charlie. “It sounds to me like she doesn’t want to be bothered. I’d just honor her wishes and stay away if I were you.”

“And that is why you are forever of the Wing, Sir Charlie! You never show enough gumption. Always take no for an answer. Not I! Not Sir Chad. I will find a way to make her love me or I will make one!”

“That’s the spirit!” says Sir Kyle.

“I just—can I just say one more thing and I’ll drop it?” says Sir Charlie.

“Say your piece,” says Chad.

“I just think that, we Knights need to do a better job of listening to princesses when they tell us what they want, and respecting that. I mean, this gal was pretty direct with you—hell, she maimed you with an exploding pot. I think that we need to learn to leave well enough alone; she’s more than capable of protecting herself and choosing how she’d like to live. I really think you should reconsider.”

Chad and Kyle share a look and then burst into laughter together, slamming their hands on the table in good cheer.

“Oh, you bastard!” says Chad laughing, “you really had me going! A woman capable of protecting herself! Incredible.”

“You’re too much, Charlie!” says Kyle. “Listening to princesses? That’ll be the day.”

Charlie finishes his beer and shakes his head and exits the bar.

Sir Charlie returns to the bar the next evening. He spots Sirs Chad and Kyle sitting at their usual table. Sir Chad’s head is bandaged, Sir Kyle’s hand in a cast.

“What happened to you two?” says Sir Charlie. “You look like hell.”

“That crazy ass Princess hit me over the head with a frying pan,” says Chad. “Turns out she maybe can defend herself. Still though, she’s fuckin’ nuts.”

“And you?” asks Charlie with a nod to Kyle. “Oh, I heard the news and got so mad I punched a wall,” says Kyle sheepishly.

“Well, I’m just glad you both learned your lesson,” says Charlie. “The next round is on me.”

“Lesson?” says Sir Chad. “I’m going back there tomorrow. This time with a helmet on.

“I’ll save her if it’s the last thing I do!”

r/InMyLife42Archive

"Out! NOW!"

The knight before me reached out his hand, ignoring what I had just said to him as he replied, "Princess Andrea, you need not be afraid! I can get us out of the castle before the dragon wakes--"

I slapped the knight with the back of my hand and yelled, "Shut up and listen to me, you damned moron! I don't need to be saved, the dragon is mine, and the only feeling I have right now is an unstoppable tide of fury for your lead-poisoned idiocy!"

"W--What? Oh Gods, the dragon has ensnared your mind!"

I slapped the knight again and stomped over to my bed as I yelled, "Thomas, please get rid of him!"

Thomas poked his head through the door and grabbed the knight by the chainmail. Thomas then carried him over to the window and dropped him outside as I practiced my deep breathing. I started counting backwards from thirty as Thomas got on the bed and nuzzled his head into my lap. Thomas built up a bit of flame in the back of his throat to warm me up, putting an end to my rage. I let out a long sigh and gently scratched behind Thomas's horns as I said, "Thanks boy."

Thomas blew out a little ring of smoke before idly licking my hand. The soreness from the slap I delivered began to fade as I snuggled up with Thomas and quietly said, "Why can't they leave me alone?"

Thomas let out a little whine in sympathy. Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the door to my room. I groaned weakly and pulled the curtain on my bed in the hopes I could convince the latest knight to leave. But when the door opened up, I heard... nothing.

There was no dramatic yell of my name, no demand that Thomas prepare for death, no telltale clanking of armor or swords. Hell, even the door opening was abnormal--the fools who kept trying to "save" me usually just kicked it down. I peeked through the curtain to get a better look at who this mystery person was.

Leaning against the wall with a book in hand was a woman dressed in the uniform of a squire. I pulled back the curtain slightly, prompting the woman to look over at me and wave. "Hello. Lovely castle you have here."

"Uhh...who are you?"

The woman chuckled and set down her book as she replied, "Depends on who you ask and where you do the asking. To the knight you just unceremoniously threw out like a baby bird from the nest, my name was Gertrude, squire-in-training. But you can call me Christine."

I pulled the curtain back all the way. "So you're a criminal."

"Oh, unrepentantly so. But don't worry, I'm not here to steal anything. I just figured the castle of a noted agoraphobe would be a good place to hide out when the lynch mobs congregate. Of course, I'd be more than willing to offer compensation in any form you'd like."

"So if I were to ask for, say, assistance in keeping knights out of my home..."

Christine opened up her jacket and showed off the tools on the inside. "I'd ask if you prefer pit traps or snares."

I smiled. "Okay, now what if I were to ask for someone to keep me and Thomas company?"

Christine strolled over to the bed, sat down next to me, and joined in on giving Thomas scritches. "I'd say yes please."

I blushed. "Okay then. I guess we have a deal."

Lightning. The flashes danced through the glass panes of the window above my bed, bringing loud booms and violent vibrations with them. Every flash sent me further from the window. Further and further back until I was teetering uncomfortably on the edge of the bedframe.

I always had a fear of storms. They brought me back to memories of my father sending me out in the cold rain to "Build strength" is what he'd say. The only thing it built though was a lifelong fear of the natural and anxiety enough for two people. Also the much later understanding that my father had never wanted a girl, so I would have to do. No matter how many times he sent me out into the rain I never came back stronger; only cold, wet, and a little more terrified.

Another rumble of thunder, this time much closer sending a shaking through the room that I thought would send the great windows lining the wall clattering out of their frames and into pieces on the floor.

This time when I jumped a great scaled head pressed up against my arm in comforting reply. I turned to face it, my eyes locking with its great golden irises that practically glowed in the darkness of the room. It pressed up against me once more: a request to be held.

I took its great head into my lap and stroked at the spaces between scales until it cooed in reply. A dragons coo is not that of a baby or a kitten, it is a low rumble like soft thunder rolling over distant hills. A rewarding sound to achieve a bond with such a great being.

"Thank you Oren, for the distraction." I whispered, as if it was not just her and I.

In reply she brought her golden eyes back up to mine, then let them drift closed once more.

Hours later, come morning, the storm had barely subsided. The room remained as dark as it had been. I lay flat in bed, Orin's head still filling my lap. A voice at the other side of the door called.

"Lady Helvor, there is a suitor here for you! He says he has no fear of the", the voice hesitated, then continued. "Well that he has no fear of the beast that holds you captive." At his words Oren stretched her wings up to the ceiling, shook herself awake, and stood tall.

"Tell him he may come if he'd like, but that if Oren doesn't kill him then I gladly will."

"Well you may tell him yourself he-" Before he could finish the door burst forth in a violent series of bangs and splinters. In the doorway a suit of armor stood proudly.

"I am Sir Gladwell the Mighty here to save you from the great beast that holds you captive m'lady!" At his words he unsheathed his sword in an empty display of courage. If a dragon could smile then in this moment Oren did, and I followed, drawing a sword of my own from the bedside.

Gladwell gave a shocked look before stuttering out the words. "I..I suppose we can fight the beast together, which by the way seems awfully docile-"

"Docile because she's mine. And if you harm her, not that you could, I will skin you and send that skin back to my father."

His brain seemed to stop. He maintained a steady grip on his blade, but his eyes shot back and forth, from me to Oren, then me, then Oren once more. Behind him in the door Johnathan peeked in and gave a shrug.

"So, you don't want to get married then?"

Oren reared her head back, flames licking up out of her mouth and up her face in a threatening display. Behind the knight, Johnathan came forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I believe it's time to leave sir. Good try, tell her father we send our regards. Oh, and if you have friends, maybe mention they not come."

Though dazed, Gladwell seemed smart enough to weigh his options, of which the latter was death. He turned, shoulders slumped, and stomped back out of the castle into the rain. I let out a long sigh upon him leaving and fell back to the bed, then brought my face up to the window

And as Oren and I watched him trudge through the mud and back onto his horse, for the first time in quite a long while, I felt thankful for the rain. Hopefully it would keep others like him away.

She began to wring her hands nervously. She could hear them making a great clattering noise outside. The sounds of steel armor, and those of the large, sweaty men they incased.

Oh dear, oh dear she thought, how on earth do these men keep finding me?

She hated dealing with these kinds of situations. They made her…well, nervous doesn’t even begin to describe it. The last social interaction she had, had her left sweating profusely from every pore, with sweat running down the sides of her cheeks like tears. Every breath she had taken was labored and short as though a vice crushed her chest.

And that had been with the castle caretaker, bringing a fresh supply of food as he did every week! The last time he visited, he had dropped off the food at the front gate before heading off in his rickety wagon. Then, while she crept outside to begin bringing in the packs of dried berries and salted meat, he turned his head and made eye contact with her.

She had turned to flee, immediately tripped over her dress with enough force to give herself a bloody nose, sprang up in a wondrous plume of dust and pink fabric, and then practically dove back into the castle.

She sighed, as she often did when memories of such nature forced their way to the forefront of her brain. I was just starting to get used to him too, she thought.

More crashing and banging, followed by a whirlwind of swearing. They were clearly unloading something. Her heart pounding, she crept to the stone window at the edge of her room and peered outside.

There they were. Out on the grassy knoll that surrounded her castle. One knight, two squires. The knight had a complete set of black armor, above which he wore a wondrous garment with a design of vibrant pink and white squares, which she did enjoy looking at. Atop his helm sat fluffy pink plume, which she also did enjoy.

What she did not enjoy was the equipment they were putting together on the grass below. It should be noted that “they” did not include the knight, who stood glistening in the sun, while his squires huffed and puffed before him. They were clearly putting together some sort of ladder.

She ducked back down beneath her window and hid with her back to the wall and her hands wrapped around her knees. She had already begun trembling, she noted with dismay.

Outside, the sounds of working continue. Occasionally, she heard what she assumed was the knight offering words of encouragement, such as “faster you sloths” and “do you intend to finish today or next week”.

Alright, she thought to herself, this is it. This is the moment we talked about. You swore, you swore you would say something the next time someone tried this. Its time now. Lets go.

At this point, she began to do absolutely nothing for several moments.

Well she thought, let's not be too hasty. You don’t know what could happen. Perhaps they forgot to bring a piece of the ladder? That way, they won't be able to finish it and I won’t even have to…

“Finished sire!” a voice called out, to which another replied with a rather nasty tone “and today too! Do you two think you could handle bringing it to the window or should we just give up here and now?”

That last phrase gave her a tiny glimmer of hope. However, these hopes were quickly dashed when, instead of making sounds of agreement and departure, the other two voices made the strained and perhaps overdone sounds of two men lifting a very, very heavy ladder while their boss lackadaisical watched them.

Alright, better now than never, she thought. Knees, do your thing.

Instead of assisting her in getting up, as she intended, they continued to remain huddled against her chest with her arms wrapped around them. It was a position she found quite comfortable, especially in comparison to getting up and dealing with the problem that, by the sound of it, was getting closer and closer to her window.

Well, you don’t know. Perhaps they brought a ladder too short? Happens to the best of us. They’ll just have to go home in that case. And I won’t have to say a…

There was a horrible banging noise on the window above her that sent her scampering on all fours across the velvet carpet of her room to the wall on the other side. When she turned around, the two top feet of a ladder were sitting at her windowsill, and a pair of metal hooks at their tips had swung around to fasten themselves to her wall.

Well, she thought to herself desperately, well you don’t know. You don’t know. Maybe he is too fat or something…but already the ladder was shaking, as though a well armored man was climbing it with impressive pace.

She thought she might vomit. The vice was crushing her chest. The sweat was pouring down in the rivets. She was shaking.

If he comes through the window, it's over. You have to do something now. Myran isn’t here to save you. You have to do something now. If you don’t, he’ll get in here and you’ll have to speak to him while he’s here in the room…

"Boru!" Princess Beatrice yelled from her tower, as her draconic companion was slashed once again by the knight's blade. The champion didn't seem to understand that she cried out in defense of the dragon, shouting in response: "Don't worry Princess! I'll slay this nasty beast for you!" "Stop you idiot, I don't want that!" He hesitated, and Boru flew from the ground, curling himself around the tower. "I'm sorry, what?", said the Knight. "Isn't this monster keeping you prisoner?" She didn't answer, realizing that was the longest conversation she had since her parent's death, months ago. She remembered the day after that vividly, when Boru first came. Contrary to popular belief, he was more of a gentle giant than a town destroying titan, and just wanted somewhere big enough to sleep. It didn't take long for the two of them to form a bond. "Hello? Are you alright?" Said the knight, interrupting her thoughts. "I am, sorry for not responding. This dragon isn't my capturer, he's my friend, and I would very much like for you and your armored friends to stop hurting him." "Oh. Then why don't you go out of the castle?" She sighed, because she didn't have an answer. Beatrice couldn't understand what caused her fear of the outside world, but she also had no reason to come out, since she had everything she could want in that castle. Servants would prepare meals for her and wouldn't ask many questions, the Royal Library was extensive and, since she wasn't old enough to rule, others were doing it for her. "Why would I?", she finally answered. "Well, I don't know, aren't you old enough to marry?", said the knight, in a flirtatious way. Hearing that, the gigantic dragon got furious. That man was too old for his friend, thought the beast, before burning the man alive. "Good boy.", said the princess, before happily going back to bed.

The necromancer laid at the food of her bed, reading in a panicked fashion. She had already heard the bustle of another intruder a few floors below, the clamor of steel upon steel as another one felled her undead minions.

She had gained a reputation as a fair maiden, unjustly imprisoned, somehow. People believed she was taken hold by an evil lich, guarded by a foul dragon. The rumors also said that she was the daughter of a powerful king, which was of more concern to many foolhardy soldiers who wanted a taste of real power.

As she listened to the commotion, she noticed something strange; there was no shouting or boasting. It didn't even sound like there was a small party. One singular man, carving his way through her forces? This sparked a rare interest in here, as well as a concern. It may be the first time Atlas would have a genuine challenge.

She closed the book and warily ventured out of her quarters, to meet Atlas in the main hall, but she had arrived at the balcony just in time to witness the entrance of the strange warrior.

He calmly pushed the doors open, instead of kicking them open like most do. He didn't utter a single word, nor did he hesitate for a second. He immediately walked toward Atlas, who was already waiting for him; this was clearly an elite knight, or someone far too confident. She had a hunch that he had a different kind of motive, one that didn't involve taking her hand in marriage.

As combat began, she studied his movements. His technique was far too refined to be a simple blowhard. His movements were graceful, his slashes quick yet precise, his demeanor calm. He showed no mercy or hatred for the struggling dragon.

As the knight started the motion to deliver a final blow, she ordered Atlas to yield, and the warrior to cease hostilities. With a flick of her hand, she used a bit of her magicks to begin the rejuvenation of Atlas, and gestured for the soldier to come with her.

There was much to discuss.

Once upon a time, in a far-off kingdom, there lived a beautiful princess named Adira. She was very kind and loved her people dearly, but unfortunately, she was also agoraphobic. Adira was afraid of leaving her castle and stepping outside its walls.

Despite her fear, Adira had a fierce protector - a dragon named Zephyr. Zephyr was more than just a pet to Adira - he was her emotional support animal. Zephyr helped Adira cope with her fears and anxieties, and the two of them were inseparable.

However, there was a problem. Many knights from neighboring kingdoms would come to Adira's castle, hoping to slay her beloved dragon. Adira tried to reason with them, explaining that Zephyr was her emotional support animal and meant no harm. But the knights were stubborn and simply would not listen.

Adira was sick and tired of the knights constantly breaking into her castle and threatening her and Zephyr. She longed for a peaceful life where she could be free from the constant fear and anxiety. She wished for a knight who would understand her plight and not see Zephyr as a threat.

One day, a young knight named Cedric arrived at Adira's castle. He was different from the other knights - he was kind and understanding. When Adira explained Zephyr's role as her emotional support animal, Cedric listened attentively and respected her wishes.

Adira was overjoyed. Finally, she had found someone who understood her and respected her fears. Cedric promised to protect Adira and Zephyr, and he kept his word.

With Cedric by her side, Adira gradually overcame her agoraphobia. She began to venture outside the castle walls, and even took Zephyr with her on her travels. The people of the kingdom rejoiced, and Adira was hailed as a brave and inspirational leader.

And as for the other knights who had threatened Adira and Zephyr? They soon learned that violence and aggression were not the answer. They saw how Cedric had respected Adira's wishes and learned to do the same. Adira's castle became a symbol of peace and understanding, and her emotional support dragon, Zephyr, was celebrated as a beloved member of the kingdom.

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