Independent Princess

The princess woke to the sound of a scream and a clatter. She groaned. Not again. She looked at the clock. 6am. This was getting bloody ridiculous. She hadn't even had her coffee yet.

The princess was Beautiful. That's what all the stories said. We can't have perfectly ordinary-looking women being princesses, that would be against the Fairytale Convention of 1812.

But at 6am even princesses really don't look that beautiful. Her hair looked like a hedgehog had a fight with a racoon and lost. Her eyes were crusty. She sighed. The unicorn onesie wasn't going to cut it for dealing with the intruder either.

She sighed again, and stripped off the onesie. A high-pitched yelp, like a dog in pain, made her speed up. She threw on the first dress she put her hand on, and grabbed her bow and quiver. Princesses weren't allowed swords, but archery was just about acceptable. Of course, it was assumed she'd use an elegant recurve bow, not a 70 pound draw weight war bow. They probably hadn't expected her to research the best arrows for piercing armour, either.

She crept down the stone stairs, until she reached the tower entrance. She stayed a couple of steps up, for height advantage. Her little purple dragon, about the size of a labrador, scurried over to her, and hid behind her legs. Silently, she pulled an arrow from her quiver, and nocked it on her bowstring.

His armour was shining, as is of course compulsory for a knight. As far as she could see under his helmet he was Handsome, as is of course compulsory for a knight in shining armour. Personally, she'd much rather have the rugged knight in tarnished armour, who'd actually fought some battles, but rules were, apparently, rules.

"Oi!" The knight was taken back. That wasn't how princesses were supposed to react when they saw you. They were supposed to be all swoony and snog you.

"You saw the signs? The big ones saying "keep out"?"

"Well yes, but you need saving so...."

"What I need is my coffee and some peace and quiet. What I don't need is another twit in tinfoil tormenting my dragon, and trying to "save" me."

'B-but you're a princess! You have to be rescued! It's the rules!"

"Says who? I like living in my tower. I have a dragon! That's the coolest pet ever! And I don't have to wear a bloody corset and spend the evening pretending I can dance and make small talk at balls."

"Look, the Fairytale Conventions say....."

"The Fairytale Conventions were written under the assumption that princesses want to be rescued, and want to be rescued by an overgrown child clanking like a walking cutlery drawer and shining like a disco ball. Some of us are quite happy reading a book in our tower."

"Oh." He looked crestfallen. She almost felt sorry for him. After all, he was trapped by the Fairytale Conventions too.

She removed the arrow from the string and lowered her bow. "Would you like a cup of tea?"