Rainbow Queens

By Anthea Jones

A frisson of excitement fizzed through the air,
the day the king’s buglers called to town square
the knights who were brave, who were strong, who were smart,
ready to quest for the princess’s heart.

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From the royal box overlooking the square
the king spread his arms and said with great flair,
“The rare Rainbow Flower is all that you need,
I wish you good fortune, good luck and top speed.”

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The gathered men grumbled, they moaned and they whined.
“It blooms once a year; it’s too hard to find.”
“That mountain’s deadly. The sea is too rough.”
“The dragon who guards it is no gentle Puff.”

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Then while they carped, they groused and they hissed,
A lone kitchen maid weaved into their midst.
Standing high on a box, she cried with a glower,
“You are all weak. I will get that flower.”

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Eyes bulged. Tongues stilled. Stunned silence descended.
She clutched her apron, nervous but splendid.
Then the cat-calls began, the chortles, the chuckles,
The outright derision, and cracking of knuckles.

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The maid fidgeted, squirmed and flushed with unease,
As taunts of her shame blew in on the breeze.
Till a sweet voice called from high in the tower,
“Mara, I love you. Bring me that flower.”

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A beat, a gasp and the crowd went berserk.
On so many levels this just didn’t work.
Two women in love? A female knight?
Outrage pulsed strong; these things were not right.

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While priests were consulted and rule books dug out,
Mara started her quest without any doubts,
She’d find that flower if it took her whole life.
For the sake of her lover; “I’ll make her my wife!”

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The knights chased at her heels, wrongfooted and slow,
Nimble and quick, Mara dealt the first blow.
Soon at the wharf, she found a ship needing crew,
Not for the rigging, but cooking up stew.

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She scrubbed not the decks but the pots and the pans,|
Rough seas wouldn’t get in the way of her plans.
Fewer knights remained when she waved off the boat,
They weren’t great sailors and armour can’t float.

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She walked ever up ‘til the rocks were too steep,
Then, using her knives, she rose at a creep.
By the time she stepped into the Dragon’s great cave,
Only two knights remained, Bruno and Dave.

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Bruno ran in and was instantly fried,
Dave tiptoed after but he also died.
While the dragon chewed bones and sucked marrow dry,
Mara made a peace flag - her apron held high.

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She peered right into the flower-filled lair.
“Hello,” she said, “any flowers to spare?”
The dragon looked up with a big toothy grin.
“Manners? How rare. Please, do come in.”

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Mara stepped into grandeur, airy and light,
Never had a place felt so very right.
“If my wife and I are in need of a throne,
May we set up here, in your rainbow home?”

🩷🩷🩷

“Of course,” said the dragon, “but I’d love if you’d squeal,”
“And lure a knight when I need a good meal?”

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Anthea Jones lives in Brisbane, Australia and writes quirky fiction and screenplays. She has been published in EGG+FROG, Sci-Fi Shorts, and Five-minute Lit. She won the 2024 Twist in the Tale: Twisted Micro Contest, and has received a Fishbowl Residency from the Queensland Writers’ Centre.