Long time ago, in the Celtic isles of old Britain, thrived a quaint kingdom; Kippernia. Their villages surrounding the monument of their power were not exactly shacks, but they weren't flamboyant with money either. If you were to pass through the gates of the kingdom, a magnificent sight-if not unseemly and unladylike-usually takes place.
A young girl aged twelve and still counting would usually bash the brains out of a wooden dummy. It was high time for woman to recognize their rights to kick male buttocks, but that would revolution would take place thousands of years from this primitive date. So why was Miss Carrot Top proving herself to be a knight when no one would really enforce her dreams. Simple, she had a thousand tone dragon with a volley of fire balls at her disposal. Take that, Suffragette Movement of the twentieth century! Anyways, enough of the unneeded history lesson and onto the ridiculously short plot!
Practicing wielding the sword and completing the tasks assigned to her by the aged veterans of the small castle was part of her daily duties. As taxing as the mundane chores were, Jane-if you remember, she was the Miss Carrot Top I was talking about- the she-knight, mastered the art of multitasking. Much to Gunther's-a bog weevil in their time's standards, a stupid prick in mine- dismay, she excelled to the point of actually becoming a knight sooner than expected. (You never know, it could happen.) Until that fateful day when her physical strength gave way to her body's desires of rest.
She was in the courtyard where the fountain periodically sprayed her orange curls. There, as she lay on the edge of the base, she slumbered peacefully. In that pose, one would observe that she lay like a fallen maiden, a damsel in distress perhaps? However, if one were to voice their opinion about that, then one would have their chewed upon by a mighty dragon. Jane did have connections to mighty beings after all.
At least, the young man that spied upon her dozing did not have the outrageous audacity to point that fact out. For he was far too enraptured in her calloused beauty to care about her tomboyish acts or her flaws. He loved her the way she was and hopefully she will stay that way. Apparently, as he stumbled upon her prostrate form, Sir Theodore really had over worked the poor dear.
Taking in her alluring aura, the jester delicately fingered her locks of wavy hair and placed the crown of her head on his lap. How strange, he thinks to himself. Why would Jane forget her duties right now? If she tired from her tasks, then shouldn't she tell someone about it? Then, thinking about her obstinate nature-one could compare her to a mule- he realized that she might have avoided the question to not come across as weak. He sighed. If she fought for the title of knight to impress, she didn't need to. Already, her best friend was astounded by her ability to stand firm in the presence of her opponents and those who disapproved. He even respected her willingness to act, to speak out her mind, and act rebellious when needed. She was a far cry from the other woman he encountered.
Suddenly, his gentle fingers jerked back in fear, bells ringing in his wake. Had he imagined it, or did his fair maiden awaken? In order to not appear too suspicious, he slowly, left her hair alone. Heavily, he breathed in and out once, twice-
"Jester! Why did you not try to awaken me?" A stuttered cry was issued from the brash female. Quickly, she rolled away from the fountain's base, onto the cobbled flooring, and sprightly leapt up to her feet. In an instant, her alert eyes took in her surroundings warily.
"Do not worry, Jane. Sir Theodore, Sir Ivan, and the rest of the knights are off in the village to run knightly duties," the blue clad young man finished quickly. Who in their right man would face Jane's explosive wrath!
"What of Gunther?" She would not have her honor as an apprentice knight to be sullied by that arrogant bog weevil! Like I said before, the mama's boy was a stupid prick.
Without hesitation, because Jane no longer had her anger directed at him, he replied nonchalantly. Well, he did have some sort of an infatuation with our heroine, so he sometimes tripped over his words. "He is with the merchant." Huh, he got over his stuttering after all. Then again, he was a born actor.
"Oh." Then her emerald orbs bore through his hazel eyes. Apparently, her wrath was like a phoenix's; it never died. This was one of the few things that Jester found to be as a flaw of his dear one. "Why did you not wake me up!"
It was a good thing that Jester was a fast and witty thinker because Jane looked ready to sic Dragon on him.
"Um, I was making sure they did not come," he said nervously. If this ploy did not work like he planned then he was barbeque! Because of the extra emphasis on they, Jane furrowed her eyes in utter confusion.
"Who are they?" Anger was clearly dissipating from her tone of voice. Only unbounded curiosity and the slight nervous look in her eyes remained.
Feigning a shocked expression, the jester cleverly weaved a short, but humorous tale. "The fairies of course! They were about to transform you into a daisy!" With exaggerated hand movements, the fourteen year old gestured as if he were one of the fae himself. What can I say, he was a Roman gypsy, had a penchant for trickery, and could possibly the son of Hermes. I sense new wonders abounding from this discovery.
"Jester, that is not-"
"Ah! But I scared them off, and they left this little trinket behind." With a sly smile, he reached into her hair and pulled out a fresh daisy. Yup, son of Hermes in the flesh and ready to steal your heart, Miss Carrot Top.
"-real?"
Smiling broadly, he bowed down to her mockingly while he handed her the flower. "For you, milady."
Blushing-however, how much she loathed to admit it- the lady knight thanked him with a gracious embrace.
"You are so sweet when you are not playing jests on me, unlike that piece of horse's dung, Gunther."
As she was about to engage him in a tale about her latest exploit with Dragon, a certain gardener interrupted.
"JESTER, GIVE ME BACK DELILAH!"
"It was the fairies, I swear!"
"Hush up, Pig's sleeping! Have some respect!"
On second thought, Gunther might actually be great company to stick around. At least he was somewhat sane.