text: There is only one way this story can unfold, and that is with you finally surpassing your master and claiming the princess as your own. For princess bosom! You charge.
  
  
  Jon dodges your blow. You swing again. He dodges and counters with an upward thrust. No time to dodge, you catch his sword with your shield. The wood splinters, and you snap your wrist, catching his sword in the shield. Déjà vu?
  
  
  Not quite. A knee slams you in the groin, and you crumple to the ground. Fight through the pain hero! You lash you with your legs, catching Jon in the chest. Both of you regain your feet and slam into each other. Over and over you roll, grappling on the ground. Dust swirls around your heads. You throw blind punches. The crowd cheers.
  
  
  You fight the good fight, but Jon wins in the end, catching you in a stellar headlock. The king congratulates you both and the crowd gives a standing ovation.
  
  
  “Best melee in years. I think the both of you earned a knighthood for such a fine display of chivalrous combat,” says the king. “Tonight there will be a feast for the ages... on the Baron’s tab of course.”
  
  
  You are bummed you will not be getting princess bosom, but you feel proud of how you fought. Even heroes take their lumps from time to time.
  
  
  As expected, Jon names the princess Lady Fair of the tournament. You see him whisper something in her ear and point in your direction. She is walking toward you! What the hell did he say?
  
  
  “Princess Anne.” You bow. “It is my pleasure.”
  
  
  “And mine. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens?”
  
  
  You readily agree and spend much of the remainder of your time getting to know Princess Anne. She is everything you could hope for in a princess, blonde, blue eyed, fair skinned, sweet, charming, big bosomed, and all the works.
  
  
  “What did you say to her?” you ask Jon one evening.
  
  
  He shrugs. “I love princesses as much as the next guy, but really, I’m in to redheads.” He smirks. “I think the farmboy turned knight getting the princess makes the better story. I’m nailing the Baron’s daughter. Wildfire hair on her.” He winks. “Just the way I like it.”
  
  
  Months pass and you perform several fantastic heroic feats. Jon marries the Baron’s daughter and you become engaged to the princess. Some days it all seems so unreal, like just the other day you were selling turnips and mucking shit. Now you are a hero.
  > You time to retire.
  Did you seriously just turn down the opportunity to kill a dragon? You may be a hero, but you aren’t the cliché’ hero you were destined to be. You could have done more. Oh well, what is done is done.
  
  
  You marry Princess Anne and have a beautiful wedding ceremony. All the dukes, earls, barons, and other lords in the kingdom attend. Jon serves as your best man and leads the wedding toast. Samwellington gets drunk and passes out in one of the massive strawberry cakes while receiving a blowjob from one of the maids, not quite sure how that happened.
  
  
  Sir Henry Williams, your old friend The Rabid Fox, regales the guests with tales from the tournament and other ventures you undertook together in the aftermath. “Would you believe,” he says, “we saw a unicorn fart in a glade a few months back? Mark of a hero’s birth is what that is.” Hmm, so much for that once every thousand years bullshit. You lame ass heroes are becoming a dime a dozen.
  
  
  Too bad ma and pa could not be around to see this, but heroes almost never have parents survive long enough to see them achieve success. You know their watching over you from somewhere above though.
  
  
  Later that night, you finally get to relief all that pent up tension that has been building up in your loins for all of these years. You are glad you saved yourself because it was something special. All thirty seconds of it. But you get better with time, and Princess Anne plops out several little you’s, one of which grows up to be king someday.
  
  
  Still. You could have killed a dragon.