"Memoirs of a Damsel" by Ben Cameron

Being a damsel in distress isn’t all it’s meant to be, you know.  It’s certainly not all the hype and glamour some of the more disillusioned believe it is.  How was I to know most of it would be downright boring when I took the job as a damsel in distress from the Inter-Kingdoms Herald.  The ad is still lying on my nightstand.

Up and coming magical kingdom seeks beautiful maiden to encourage the Inter-Kingdom travel of heroes, warriors and champions.  Applicants must be in their twenties and willing to wait centuries, guarded by a ferocious, fire-breathing dragon, for their true love to rescue them.  Sleeping for a hundred years and golden hair is optional but preferred.  Pay is marriage with your true love, conferred upon your rescue.

All applications to be sent or presented in person no later than December 31^st to the chancellor of Akkadia, newest member of the League of Magical Kingdoms.

There isn’t much to do, alone in a tower, waiting for your true love to come to your rescue.  I think during my imprisonment I’ve managed everything possible to do, whilst stuck in a tower.  I’ve slept for a hundred and twenty years (an extra twenty for good measure), spun straw into gold and grown my hair so long it threatened to fill my entire room till I cut it off and threw it out the window.  That drew many people to my tower, most of them staring out across the moat at my golden hair fluttering down in the breeze.  Mind you, I called out for help, for them to rescue me, but left soon after.  I learnt the tongues of elves, dwarves, giants, sign language and I even tried Orcish, but my true love could never speak that dreadful language so I gave it up.

I even got so bored I ended up holding month long discussions with the dragon on such important topics as why it is always the damsel in distress, not the knight.  Damned if the dragon could see any sense, though.  Those chauvinist dragons are the cause of all the problems in today’s society, you know.

That’s not to say no one tried to rescue me from the vile clutches of the fire-spitting beast.  The first years held numerous attempts by valiant knights and their steeds, yet none that assailed the castle ever succeeded in passing the dragon.  The battles were long and fierce, armour shining bright in the flames, the roar of the dragon and what not.

Over the years, the attempts grew sporadic, but at least they were more successful.  A few even made past the dragon (none ever killed him – I think he’s been growing lazy in his old age) but they never broke the witch’s curse.  Most left before they even kissed me.  Then there was even one ogre, dressed as a knight, who thought to carry me off but on that I put my foot down firmly, thank you very much.  I just flat refuse to leave till the curse has been broken.

A few years ago, two men, dressed in long flowing black robes found their way to my room, holding a parchment signed with the royal seal.  Apparently, they thought Akkadia no longer needed a damsel but the funny thing is, they didn’t last long.  I’m not too sure what happened, but one ran out of my room never to be seen again and the other threw himself out the window yelling something about saving himself.

Even the dragon tried to break the curse.  He got so far as getting his head within my room before I started yelling.  Bad-breath I can handle, but fire-breath… no thanks.  Besides, interspecies marriages may be all the rage in the Outer-Kingdoms, but I can do without it.

That was all quite a few years ago.  Now, with my rescuer Sir Gallivant, I am happily married, except for one problem.  Some time before he appeared in my room, his armour shining in the sun streaming through my window, his face shaved and clean, a fairy godmother appeared, glowing brightly by my bed.  Quite shocked by her sudden appearance, the first thing that came to my mind when she asked me to make a wish was for a knight to finally rescue me.  Instead of this though, she cursed me, forever preventing me from articulating another word.  Does nothing go right for me?  I must say though, the next champion that came along (albeit two years alter) did rescue me, and I am thankful that I learnt sign language during my time imprisoned by the dragon.

Speaking of the dragon, I never saw him again, presumably having flown off in disgust at letting Sir Gallivant rescue me.  I did hear stories of a dragon attacking the Commiserate for Fairy-Tales of Akkadia.  Must have been something he didn’t like in his job description.