This is a story from my childhood, of long ago, when the kingdom of Lockamus was still fresh and young. Dragons lived all about the world in solitary caverns, yet oddly, in a sort of organized family arrangement. When I think about it, their homes were the size of small kingdoms and offspring never strayed more than three kingdoms away from their parents, and when one was hurt, multiple sprang to action, rushing to aide their brethren. Changelings roamed the earth, and fairies and wizards and witches were abundant. Dwarves still forged the best metal you could find in any kingdom, and monsters were plentiful, much to the joy and often chagrin of heroes. Oh, did I forget to mention? Heroes were easy to find, too. You could hire one to exterminate a minor pestilence of borogoves or boggarts, or to take your daughter (or even son) to a cotillion or a ball, for a small fee, of course. My mother always told me not to trust those heroes – the ones that had nobleness in their veins and courtesy in every bone were the ones who would take no fee, no reward, nothing but perhaps bread and bedding for a night, in exchange for a good deed, from getting rid of a mouse to driving off a dragon, and then be gone again in the morning with a note of thanks for hosting them, feeding them, and giving them a chance to help.
The greatest hero, perhaps, went by the name of Damien. He was one of the noblest knights from the kingdom of Lockamus, ruled by the most beneficial Prince Alexander. Damien had shaggy brown hair and could often be seen riding through the fields and meadows chasing a cow that had gotten out of its pasture or escorting a caravan of noblemen or, more often, peasants to see the prince early in the morning. He was a handsome man somewhere in between his teen years and his adult life, still young enough to be able to learn, and yet strong and bold enough to assert his values and truths if he must. His hair was a shaggy sandy brown, with golden hues mixed in, as if his hair had absorbed the sun it was so often in. He had a Grecian bone structure, and his favorite color for his tunics was green. He was often flushed and exhilarated, ice blue eyes shining like lightning bugs on a warm summer night at the prospect of adventure and chances to be taken. Damien would give free lessons to village children when he had the time and he would make time for his benefactor, Prince Alexander, to learn. Alexander and Damien had an almost sibling-like relationship. Alexander housed a quiet adoration and idolization for Damien, while Damien took Alexander under his wing in everything but politics. Here, Alexander was the better. Alexander tutored Damien in the court's manners so Damien could travel abroad and be a diplomat, as it suited his personality to a tee.
Alexander was the dream of every village girl. (There was one boy in the village that closely and almost uncannily resembled him, but he was the son of the old shrew who tended the pub long into the morning. The woman seemed to be constantly hung-over; suffering from an inextinguishable headache. Most people thought it was from too much beer. I, personally, thought it was from worrying about what her son was going to do without her when she passed on. He had no future, until Damien and Alexander took him into their tutelage. But that's a story for another time.) He was the tall, strong, silent and very pale type, rarely saying a word, even to his parents. He watched Damien do his good deeds from afar, admiring and constantly wishing to join him, wishing that he were as brave, as smart, as kind, as noble as Damien; maybe then he would make a good king. But alas, as Alexander grew older, he started to pull away from the world, until one fateful Luminiare. That year, he decided to do something oddly out of character for him: to give. He choose to bombard the kingdom of Subeta with gifts, given anonymously and with no chance of return or thanks, perhaps because he wanted to feel better about himself, or perhaps because he thought that this was the year he was going to change; this was the year he was going to become noble!
It wasn't long before this caught the eye of his faithful knight, Sir Damien. Damien knew little of Alexander at that point, but he launched into gift-giving just as avidly as Alex. Given, his gifts were smaller and less expensive, but they were given from the heart, and they meant all the more as Damien barely had enough money to clothe and feed himself. Real knights don't have much, you know. If something gets ripped, they sew it up and keep going. They would both give gifts with little ditties, after carefully considering what they knew about that person. Soon, Alex was going after girls with his letters, and Damien was playfully trying to save them from the clutches of the evil womanizer. Then, history was made.
Alexander sent a letter to one girl who was just wandering around aimlessly and she started to talk about it. She speculated that there might be a small rivalry going on between the two, and others joined her. Within moments, Alex and Damien were communicating through their letters to each other and to the new friends. Damien was fond of a visiting princess named Shouko, and Alexander focused on the original girl, who went by Bee, publicly, but was known as Atalanta privately and to her new friends. As the lot of them grew to know each other, the letters and ditties became more and more personal, more and more caring, almost as if it were a love story.
And then all anons broke loose.
The Sugar Fairy, the Duke, the mother of the boy who looked like Alexander, a jealous princess, and everybody else seemed to come out of the woodwork. Anons bombarded the girls, and soon, there was a full-fledged legend in the making.
It's been years since that happened, but we still remember it as our history. It's true; though it may sound like hooey I pulled out of my slop bucket. There are more stories, but I only know one or two. What's that, boy? You want to hear another! Well, I'm not going to tell it standing up. Get my old bones a chair. And get the broom, the floor needs sweeping. Yes, you! You can sweep while you listen.