The Princess and The Reluctant Knight

Episode 36

With all the knights having fled, Princess Brittany found herself in the unenviable position of dragon deterrent. Her delicate gown, better suited for a courtly dance than the fiery tango of dragon taming, fluttered in the heat of the beast's breath.

Lord Heathcliff, whose exit from the castle had been punctuated by laughter more crooked than the tower of Pisa, now stood silent. His eyes held the night within their depths, betraying nothing of his thoughts.

The dragon, the cause of the current turmoil, snorted impatiently, its eyes fixed upon the princess with an intensity that could melt stone.

Queen Elana joined the fray, with Sir Alvin in tow.

"Brittany, what is to be done?" Alvin's voice quivered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as though it might leap away if not tightly secured.

Brittany turned to him, her eyes reflecting the inferno that Hootchy-coochy danced before them. "Alvin, I wish I knew," she shouted, her voice a terrible example of grace under pressure.

Queen Elana fixed her gaze upon Lord Heathcliff. A faint flicker, like the dying gasp of a star, surrounded him. "Something is not right with that one," she said.

Before they could make further observations, Princess Eleanor burst forth from the shadows, her declaration cutting through the tension like a lance through parchment. "It is him! Lord Heathcliff, my baby daddy, is the dragon!" Her words, though ludicrous, hung in the air with a weight that threatened to crush them all.

The queen's eyes widened at the revelation. "Brittany, you must do it. Kill him! He is the dragon!" Though given with the certainty of a monarch, Elana's command carried the tremor of a mother's fear.

Brittany reached and pulled Alvin's sword from the scabbard, gripping so tight her knuckles turned as white as the full moon overhead. The blade felt alien in her hand, a traitor against her blood. For Lord Heathcliff, the man she must now consider calling "father" stood accused of being the very beast they feared.

And if he was a dragon, what did that make her?

Her heart waged war with her duty, a tumultuous battle that raged beneath her breast. How could she lift her sword against her father, even if he were the monster they faced?

The dragon, growing impatient with the human drama, let out a roar that seemed to shake the stars in the sky. Sir Alvin, perhaps inspired by the sound, squared his shoulders and stepped forward. "Fear not! I shall engage the beast in a duel to the-"

"-Alvin, please," Brittany interjected, her voice a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. "This is no time for bravado. And I have your sword."

Princess Eleanor, her eyes still wide with the shock of her revelation, turned to Sir Alvin. "How do you intend to engage a creature that has already sent our bravest knights fleeing into the night?"

Alvin's mouth opened, then closed, his strategy as absent as the knights themselves. "Perhaps a boring tale of a knight's journey to save a princess. That is it. I will bore the beast into a nap."

Brittany turned back to Lord Heathcliff, her deep gaze seeking the truth within him. "Father, what say you? Are you the dragon that terrorizes your land?"

Lord Heathcliff's silence was a shroud that refused to lift. His laughter was now a ghost that haunted the edges of memory.

The dragon shifted, its tail sweeping the ground with a whoosh like the rustle of a thousand silken gowns. The air, thick with the smell of brimstone and fear, carried the electricity of the moment.

Poised between the roles of princess and warrior, Brittany felt the weight of destiny on her shoulders. She raised her sword, not in aggression but as a plea. "Father, if there is any of the good man left in you, end this now."