A female WARRIOR enters in full body armor. The ends of her hair are scorched. Her shield has burn marks on it.
She takes her helmet off, and tries to examine her hair.
A female WIZARD enters.
WARRIOR: You should have let me cut my hair off. What was I saying, just yesterday, “The next time I fight a dragon, my hair is going to get burnt–”
WIZARD: If we win this war, you’re going to be queen of this country. You’ll want the long hair, no matter how much it is damaged.
WARRIOR: I don’t want to be queen anymore. I was thinking about it, and if we win on account of me slaying all these dragons, I really should be king and not queen, because I’m the only one strong and crafty enough to kill these motherfuckers and I would really like to keep being in charge of stuff and kill things instead of pretending to like needlepoint and learn which spoon to use with which dessert.
WIZARD: That would be unprecedented. Kings have always been men. We’ll find you a suitable husband–
WARRIOR: That’s the thing, though–you are not going to find anyone that’s suitable. I’m the biggest bad-ass around. I do not want to settle down and start pooping out babies, no thank you. My mother DIED in childbirth and I am not going down that road.
WIZARD: But your bloodline–it needs to be passed down–
WARRIOR: I’ve been thinking about that too, and instead of me having my babies, I figure we use your magic to put my fertilized baby eggs into a young, healthy wench. Have her be the incubator or whatnot.
WIZARD: My liege, that would be unnatural.
WARRIOR: Wizard, I have just sliced my way out of a dragon’s stomach, slayed the beast for our mutual protection. I slay dragons for a living, but transporting my eggs to someone else’s stomach is unnatural? You are a piece of work, you know that?
WIZARD: Your highness, you must understand, there is a certain way things have to be done, a natural order, or we’ll displease the spiritual forces at work. You must find a husband, make heirs–
WARRIOR: I think I’m an atheist. I don’t think there’s a God. So, I don’t have to follow the natural order to please some invisible man in the sky. I have reckoned with dragons and am not afraid of the spiritual forces you believe to be at work. If you force me to marry, I will kill my husband in our marital bed and will continue to follow this pattern until all the men in the kingdom are afraid to marry me. That should fix that. So, yeah. I’m planning on being king.
WIZARD: Well, you leave me no choice, but to–
She raises her wand. The WARRIOR produces her sword and there are some cool sound effects as they have a quasi-lightsabre battle during the following.
WIZARD: What foul magic is this?
WARRIOR: I was worried that this might happen. So I’ve been brushing up on the dark arts in case you tried to turn on me.
WIZARD: How did you learn so quickly, your control, it’s incredible.
WARRIOR: Can it.
The WARRIOR eventually gets the upper hand and flings the WIZARD offstage.
WARRIOR: Good riddance!
She takes off the rest of her armor, revealing bruises and scars.
She rifles through drawers until she finds a pair of scissors. She cuts her hair off, slowly at first and then with more confidence and abandon.
She wets her hands at a sink and slicks her hair back.
She looks at herself in the reflection of her sword.
WARRIOR: It’s good to be the king.