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Authors: Aidan Moher
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the prince. "Love is what matters, and love shall rule this day!"
The people of the castle eyed their queer prince. He stood strange and proud before them, one hand gripping the mane of his dragon friend, the other held high to the sky.
"Is he pulling wool over our eyes?" whispered one to another.
"Is it some trick?" whispered someone else.
"True love exists?" mumbled a third.
"I was nasty and vile, cranky and crude, miserable and mean," said the prince. "But now I know why. I was lonely and adrift. But in Fáfnir I've found meaning! Together we shall bring Copperkettle Vale to glory! Our good king, my father, shall be the greatest king in all our history! Forever shall bards compose songs and poems of our resplendent deeds!"
The crowd grumbled and guffawed. It must be a joke! A dragon and a prince? Ruling a kingdom with love and an iron fist both? Spears were lifted again, iron points dull in the blood-red light of the sunrise. Crossbows were cocked, cranked tight and deadly.
"What is this!" yelled a new voice. The old King of Copperkettle Vale appeared from a dark hallway, where he had been hidden all along. His hair was all amiss, and a robe wrapped his substantial belly. "A dragon in our courtyard and yet it lives! Kill it, you fools!”
"But, sire, the prince!"
"A traitor and a heathen!" yelled the king. "A consort of sin and debauchery. He is not my son. He is no longer prince!"
A tear welled at the corner of the prince's eye. "Father!" he wailed. "I thought you would be cheered! We are in love, and together we will bring our Kingdom to heights unimaginable! Great glory rides on these wings!"
"I have no son," said the king. His eyes were filled with cold fury. "Knights! Fire at will!"
And so the courtyard was filled with the twang of crossbows and the grunts of spearmen jabbing their pointy weapons.
But Fáfnir's hide was tough and the arrows bounced from him like fruit flies and gnats. Ping! The spears found no soft flesh but bent against his scales, tough as tempered steel.
"Fly!" yelled the prince, betrayed by subjects and family alike.
Fáfnir flapped his massive wings, and the crowd in the courtyard stumbled in the great gust that followed. The king alone kept to his feet (short and fat as he was) and shook a meaty fist at his son. Three more beats of his mighty wings and the dragon topped the castle walls.
They let the wind take them where it would—lost, adrift, wanderers without a home.
The days that followed were filled with great adventure and peril, enough to fill a hundred bedtime tales. Those days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to years—still they did not stop drifting on the wind, from one fairytale to the next. The prince never saw his home of Copperkettle Vale again, and Fáfnir never again lay on his enormous pile of gold and silver, gems and jewels, but together they were happy, two souls freed of their shackles.
And that is how the Prince of Copperkettle Vale lost a kingdom but found true love in its place.
“Of Parnassus and Princes, Damsels and Dragons” (2010)
Story Notes
We’re all familiar with the traditional story of the prince, the princess, and the dragon, right? Sir Knight in Shining Armour goes on a valorous adventure to save Lady Damsel in Distress from the big, bad other. Blood is spilled. The big, bad other is slain. The princess is saved. All is good.
Except not all princesses need saving and not all dragons are bad.
“Of Parnassus and Princes, Damsels and Dragons” began with an idea: what if the knight in shining armour fell in love? Not with the princess, who turns out to be self-sufficient and sort of horrible, but with the dragon, who’s a bit of a softie at heart? With a story like that, I knew I had license to enjoy myself, to have fun with the characters, the setting, and reader expectations. The Kingdom of Copperkettle Vale grew vividly to life in my mind, and as the words started flowing, the love triangle blossomed.
In
The people of the castle eyed their queer prince. He stood strange and proud before them, one hand gripping the mane of his dragon friend, the other held high to the sky.
"Is he pulling wool over our eyes?" whispered one to another.
"Is it some trick?" whispered someone else.
"True love exists?" mumbled a third.
"I was nasty and vile, cranky and crude, miserable and mean," said the prince. "But now I know why. I was lonely and adrift. But in Fáfnir I've found meaning! Together we shall bring Copperkettle Vale to glory! Our good king, my father, shall be the greatest king in all our history! Forever shall bards compose songs and poems of our resplendent deeds!"
The crowd grumbled and guffawed. It must be a joke! A dragon and a prince? Ruling a kingdom with love and an iron fist both? Spears were lifted again, iron points dull in the blood-red light of the sunrise. Crossbows were cocked, cranked tight and deadly.
"What is this!" yelled a new voice. The old King of Copperkettle Vale appeared from a dark hallway, where he had been hidden all along. His hair was all amiss, and a robe wrapped his substantial belly. "A dragon in our courtyard and yet it lives! Kill it, you fools!”
"But, sire, the prince!"
"A traitor and a heathen!" yelled the king. "A consort of sin and debauchery. He is not my son. He is no longer prince!"
A tear welled at the corner of the prince's eye. "Father!" he wailed. "I thought you would be cheered! We are in love, and together we will bring our Kingdom to heights unimaginable! Great glory rides on these wings!"
"I have no son," said the king. His eyes were filled with cold fury. "Knights! Fire at will!"
And so the courtyard was filled with the twang of crossbows and the grunts of spearmen jabbing their pointy weapons.
But Fáfnir's hide was tough and the arrows bounced from him like fruit flies and gnats. Ping! The spears found no soft flesh but bent against his scales, tough as tempered steel.
"Fly!" yelled the prince, betrayed by subjects and family alike.
Fáfnir flapped his massive wings, and the crowd in the courtyard stumbled in the great gust that followed. The king alone kept to his feet (short and fat as he was) and shook a meaty fist at his son. Three more beats of his mighty wings and the dragon topped the castle walls.
They let the wind take them where it would—lost, adrift, wanderers without a home.
The days that followed were filled with great adventure and peril, enough to fill a hundred bedtime tales. Those days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to years—still they did not stop drifting on the wind, from one fairytale to the next. The prince never saw his home of Copperkettle Vale again, and Fáfnir never again lay on his enormous pile of gold and silver, gems and jewels, but together they were happy, two souls freed of their shackles.
And that is how the Prince of Copperkettle Vale lost a kingdom but found true love in its place.
“Of Parnassus and Princes, Damsels and Dragons” (2010)
Story Notes
We’re all familiar with the traditional story of the prince, the princess, and the dragon, right? Sir Knight in Shining Armour goes on a valorous adventure to save Lady Damsel in Distress from the big, bad other. Blood is spilled. The big, bad other is slain. The princess is saved. All is good.
Except not all princesses need saving and not all dragons are bad.
“Of Parnassus and Princes, Damsels and Dragons” began with an idea: what if the knight in shining armour fell in love? Not with the princess, who turns out to be self-sufficient and sort of horrible, but with the dragon, who’s a bit of a softie at heart? With a story like that, I knew I had license to enjoy myself, to have fun with the characters, the setting, and reader expectations. The Kingdom of Copperkettle Vale grew vividly to life in my mind, and as the words started flowing, the love triangle blossomed.
In
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