[Writing Prompt] The Princess Would Prefer Not To Be Rescued

Just a little something I wrote while trapped in a car yesterday.

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"Seems kinda weird, I guess?"

The princess frowned.  It was a very princess frown; the kind of  expression that courtly tutors could never truly teach, the kind that a  good queen would exercise on someone who had finally reached the end of  her long patience.  A storm, painted on a face.  "Weird."  She stated.   She did not ask.  Princesses did not ask.

The knight cleared his throat.  "Well, I mean, I'm not exactly native  to the area, but where I come from, typically interspecies romance is  limited to... well..."

"Nothing, I suppose."  The princess tapped a foot on the stone floor that bracketed the front 'door' of the cave.

"Well, no."  The knight looked shocked.  "Simply to those beings that  can demonstrate sapience.  Isn't that... I'm sorry, your country  confuses me sometimes."

The princess would give him credit; he hadn't kicked in the door,  sword drawn.  Nor had he done that silly knight thing of showing up  alone with only a horse for company.  Instead, he'd brought a cheerful,  but hard, group of men and women and vines that had built a small camp  at the base of the hill.  He had come up alone, though.

The princess was mildly taken aback, and showed exactly none of that.   "My wife is perfectly sapient, thank you.  Were you unaware that  dragons are legally considered people, even under the rather poorly  worded laws of our kingdom?"

"Ah, that answered the size question as well.  And I suspect the poor wording is why they are counted people."  The knight mused.  "Your father was quite determined to have me believe otherwise."

A scoff.  The smallest show of true emotion.  "Is that why you're here, then?  My father's word taken at face value?"

The knight again shook his head.  "Of course not.  We take nothing at  face value.  My, you're quick to judge for someone married to a fire  breathing apex predator."

"As opposed to the apex predator of the political ecosystem my father  would have me marry.  Also, not all dragons breathe fire.  Her aspect  is Growth."

"Ah, apologies!  I did not think."  The knight rubbed the chinpiece  of his helmet.  He glanced back at the party behind him, then back to  the princess, before shrugging.  "Well, I suppose that's all that I  need.  Would you mind terribly if we afforded ourselves of your front  lawn before taking our leave tomorrow?"

The princess now actually was confused.  "I'm sorry."  She said, the  hard edge of command in her voice, masking confusion.  "What is it  exactly that you are here for?"  Sometimes, questions were the only way  to cut through the games.  It had taken her love some time to train the  ways of court out of her in that regard.

"Why, for the story, of course."  The knight said cheerfully.  "Your  father gave us one side, you've given us another.  I suspect there are a  few more angles in the surrounding countryside and villages.  Harder  when you're talking to bit parts and not protagonists, you know, but  we'll suss them out!"  He backed up a few paces, and bowed.  "Good day  to you, my lady.  And if your wife returns, do consider sending her our  way for a chat!"

"Wait!"  The princess called, as the knight started his way down the  sloped dirt of the hill.  She stepped out of the cave, skin prickling as  she passed the enchantment that kept the heat in at night.  "What are you?"  She asked.

The knight turned, and smiled, and for just a second, the princess  was no princess at all.  She was a bold and curious and wondering  peasant girl, looking at a gallant errant passing through her village.   She was a wounded soldier seeing a second chance.  She was a king seeing  the most loyal paladin.

Then the moment passed.

"Why, we're bards, of course."  He told her, smile still wide and white on his face.

She looked at him, then down at the heavily armed group below.  Every  one of them could have been the match of four of her father's soldiers.   One of their packbeasts had a ballista mounted to it.

She caught herself, rebuilt her composure.  "Bards.  Quite a sort of  storytellers wander around prepared to lay siege to a castle."  Her  etiquette training kicked in again; voice harmonious but not inviting,  words inquiring but not revealing weakness.  But the bard, of course,  didn't need any of that.

"We are simple tellers of true tales, my lady."  He said.  "And you've met your father.  You tell me; who's castle begs the siege?"