Morgan, the once-noble woman

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a delicate noble woman named Morgan. Morgan was quite happy being her noble woman self for many years, until one day her father found her while she was doing normal girl things and announced it was time for her to be married, as this is what noble families do.

“But I don’t have any suitors!” she exclaimed.

Her father thought about that, and realized she was right, but he wanted the riches and connections anyway. As a foolish lord was passing by, her father pointed to him and said, “You can marry him.”

The lord, surprised out of his world of perfumed handkerchiefs and riches and servants, simply stuttered.

“What? W-well al-alright, th-then.”

Morgan couldn’t believe her father would do such a thing, and so she stamped her dainty foot and stormed off into the castle (as they always live in castles. It’s a lord thing.) She sat in her room for an hour or two, roughly until darkness, thinking about how to solve this problem. With no other options, she stole a horse (it was actually her horse but that isn’t really important, is it?) and ran away, stopping only when she reached yet another castle, this one larger and more luxurious than her own. She stopped just outside the wall, and spotted a guard shouting in a loud voice that the King’s military was looking for soldiers. Morgan, having nothing else to do, decided she would join.

“Hello there, I would like to join the military.”

The guard blinked. “But you’re a girl!”

Morgan looked down at her dress, but as the guard didn’t seem very bright, she decided to see if she could fool him.

“No, I’m not. I’m just a boy in a dress, that’s all.”

The guard shrugged, and signed her right up. As her name was Morgan, a rather trans-gender name, this worked out after all, even wonderfully. After many years of faithful military service, Morgan became Sir Morgan, the King’s most trusted knight. So trusted, in fact, that when the next war came around, the King left Sir Morgan to watch over his family rather than go to the frontlines.

The King’s youngest daughter, not knowing that Sir Morgan was, in fact, a she, fell in love instantly, following her around and simpering as princesses tend to do.

“Stop following me, twit,” Morgan said.

“Will you go to battle for me, Sir Morgan?” The princess asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“No, go away.”

“Oh, pwetty please! I’ll give you my handkerchief.”

“…You’ve used that.”

Now, this rather annoying conversation went on for sometime until Morgan finally became so irritated that she tossed the princess out the nearest window. The princess landed in the moat, quite safe, but since she was wearing all those frills and ruffles and petticoats that princesses wear instead of the far more efficient military uniform Morgan wore, she sank instantly to the bottom. When the King came back, he was most displeased.

“Dude, you threw my daughter into the moat!”

“She was bothering me.”

The king didn’t think this was a very acceptable answer, so he banished Morgan, even going so far as to remove the title of ‘Sir.’ Morgan, however, was still fiercely loyal to her King, and even maintained that loyalty as she was walking through the nearest enchanted forest, as all forests are enchanted in that area. It wasn’t long before Morgan came across the same unicorn that Amber the Miller’s son had encountered. The unicorn, being an annoying creature, was no longer a pile of charred ash.

“Hello,” it said. “Stay with me. I’m pretty.”

Morgan, thoroughly annoyed at being banished in the first place, picked up the flamethrower Amber had left behind and torched the unicorn once again. She quickly left before the creature could spawn again, this time running into an army of evil elves that Meadow the Tavern Wench slash Elf princess had sent to smite the King. Morgan, still fiercely loyal, refused to let them pass.

“Dude, get out of our way.”

“Nope.” And then, as her clothes were designed with loads of hidden pockets, she began pulling out golden iron crosses and chucking them at the elves. The elves scattered, and laughed when Morgan ran out of crosses.

“Ha, ha, fool! We are too fast to be hit by mere crosses.”

It soon became very noticeable that the elves had failed to realize that the crosses were, in fact, grenades.

Morgan, no longer Sir Morgan, now became known as Morgan the Elf killer.

Once Morgan became sure that the elves would no longer be bothering her or King-what’s-his-name (her loyalty having somewhat depleted from all her elf killing), Morgan began to wander through the forest again. After scaring more than her fair share of elves, she soon came upon a cave, better known as a dragon’s lair. Morgan, who had never been afraid of dragons, saw the loads of shiny stuff within and went and dove into a nearby pile, swimming through the riches until she fell asleep.

When the dragon came back, it was immensely tired from a day of smiting and burning, and it collapsed on the pile of golden stuff that Morgan was, in fact, sleeping in.

“Ah!” The dragon exclaimed. “After a long day of burning villages and smiting innocent people, it’s nice to kick back…” And the dragon did just that. Since being squashed was not high on Morgan’s to-do list, she woke up immediately.

“Dude, I was sleeping there.”

“Ack! A human!” The dragon prepared to smite Morgan, but Morgan’s quick thinking caused it to pause.

“Wait a minute! I was just laying there, and I wasn’t stealing anything!”

“Oh, alright.”

There were several seconds of awkward silence, before Morgan decided to strike up a conversation.

“So…what are you doing?”

“Well, once I woke up, I was actually going to go smite some Kings.”

“Really? Can I come?”

The dragon shrugged, and since it was bored anyway, it agreed. Morgan, still quite angry from being banished, enjoyed it immensely. Once again, her name changed, and it remained Morgan the Dragon-riding King-smiter for the rest of her days. In a sadistic kind of way, she lived happily ever after.