The Highest Position
A wedding tale of dams, dragons, and doing what you promised
Five Wedding Wishes
The princess was admired across many lands—her beauty the kind that made poets forget their rhymes and artists ruin perfectly good canvases. She had a voice like velvet and a stare like a thrown dagger.
She was to marry a nobleman from a neighboring country—young, well-mannered, and sincere. Noble not only in title, but in soul. He loved her with the wholeheartedness of someone who had not yet learned the price of it.
And she knew it.
So, before their wedding, she gave him five wishes. Not for herself, she claimed, but to prove the depth of his love.
Wish One: A Lake
“I want to be married beside a lake,” she said, brushing her fingers through her long curls. “Something grand. Reflective. With little boats and flower garlands. I deserve at least that.”
The nobleman hesitated. “But, my love, our lands are dry. The river barely cuts through the valley, and there’s no natural lake for a hundred miles.”
Her gaze turned frostbitten. “Make it happen,” she said. “So I can tell that you love me.”
And so, he did. He summoned engineers, workers, and a hundred strong arms. He carved a vast hollow in the land and built a dam to trap the river’s flow. Where once the water had danced downstream, nourishing villages and farms, now it pooled—still, deep, and silent.
The lake shimmered. The people downstream wilted.
But the princess walked along the edge in a new gown and murmured, “Magnificent. This will do.”
Wish Two: Berries
“At the wedding feast,” she announced, “I want berries. Not common ones. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries—fresh, bursting, and draped across every dessert.”
The nobleman swallowed. “But it’s late summer. None of those grow now. I could have preserves brought—”
“No,” she interrupted. “I want them freshly picked. Make it happen. So I can tell that you love me.”
He sought out an old trader who whispered secrets in riddles.
“These berries grow year-round,” said the man, pulling a pouch of glistening seeds from his cloak. “But they must be sown under strict conditions. Shade. A Wednesday evening between five and six. They must be sung to each night for one hour. Miss even a single note, and they will wither.”
“And your price?”
The man grinned. “Your horse.”
The nobleman froze. His horse—his companion since boyhood, his steed through storms and battles, the friend who had carried him on his first visit to the princess’s court.
He walked the horse to the trader himself. “Thank you,” he whispered, stroking its mane. “You’ve carried me further than anyone.”
That Wednesday, he planted the seeds beneath the pines. And for weeks, he climbed the slope at dusk to sing lullabies to the soil.
The berries came, rich and fragrant.
The princess sampled one delicately. “That shows me that you love me.”
Wish Three: Music
“One more thing,” she said one afternoon, while inspecting embroidery samples. “The music at the wedding must be unlike anything anyone has ever heard. I want flutes from the elven cities, lyres from the mountain monks, the glass chimes from the underwater halls of the sea folk. Each melody must be rare, exotic, impossible to forget.”
The nobleman blinked. “Some of those musicians live in exile. Others haven’t played in decades. That may not be—”
She narrowed her eyes. “Make it happen.”
And so he traveled.
He scaled cliffs where a blind harper played only to the wind. He paid passage on a pirate ship to reach a sunken grotto. He convinced monks to break a sacred vow of silence to play one final song.
He spent every coin he owned. Sold his signet ring. Pawned the wedding crown.
When he returned, exhausted and bruised, the musicians arrived with him. Their rehearsals filled the valley with music that made birds forget their own songs.
The princess listened briefly, then shrugged. “A bit moody. But adequate.”
Wish Four: Sunshine
“With the wedding only a week away,” she said, “I want clear skies. No clouds. No drizzle. I want to glow in golden light when I walk to the altar.”
He rubbed his temples. “It’s been raining for days. I don’t control the weather—”
She cut him off. “I don’t care how you do it. Promise me you’ll make it happen.”
He promised.
So he rode to the high cliffs, to a place where only desperate farmers dared go. There he found the dragon rider girl.
“I normally bring rain,” she said, reclining against her dragon’s warm scales. “Not stop it.”
“I’ll pay anything.”
She looked him up and down. “Anything?”
He met her gaze.
“I want you,” she said with a smirk. “As my reward. Marry me.”
He blinked. “You’re… serious?”
“I like men who sing to berries. And besides,” she added, “you deserve better than a girl who treats love like a test.”
He hesitated. “If you clear the skies… then yes.”
“Deal.”
She soared into the clouds. Fire lit up the gray. Thunder cracked and retreated. The valley drank sunlight for the first time in weeks.
He returned to the palace.
“I did it,” he said, drenched in golden warmth.
The princess tilted her head. “Good. But it’s not enough.”
Wish Five: Power
“For my final wish,” she said, running her fingers along the embroidered hem of her gown, “I want the highest position in the land.”
He tilted his head. “You’ll eventually be queen.”
“No,” she said sharply. “Now. I want the highest position today. On our wedding day. Higher than any man or monarch. Make it happen. So I know you love me.”
His chest tightened. “What about your father? Or mine? They’ve ruled for decades.”
She shrugged. “Not my concern. You’ll figure something out.”
That evening, he wandered the edge of the forest. The path was silent, save for the crunch of his boots and the ache of his conscience.
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
“You look like a man with too many stones in his satchel.”
He turned. A gnome sat atop a red mushroom, legs swinging, eyes merry.
“I… yes,” the nobleman said. “I made promises. To two women. One wants the highest position. The other wants me. And I gave my word to both.”
The gnome looked up past the treetops. “Big problems sometimes have small solutions.”
The nobleman frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She said she wanted the highest position, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Then give it to her.”
The Wedding
The day arrived.
The lake shimmered in sapphire tones. Tables overflowed with berries. Music drifted from carved instruments, bright and strange. The sun bathed the land in gold.
Both kings were in attendance, seated beside one another beneath the wedding canopy—one nursing a goblet of wine, the other blinking back unexpected tears. They said little, but exchanged a single nod when the music began. Whatever tension had once hung between them had quietly dissolved.
And the nobleman stood at the altar—tall, calm, and free.
She stood beside him in a dress the color of firelight.
The dragon rider.
She grinned as the priest began to speak.
When the kiss was sealed, the guests erupted in cheers. Not polite claps—true, roaring joy.
The dragon landed with a thud. The wind lifted veils and stole confetti from the air.
“Time for our honeymoon?” she asked, climbing up.
“One more thing,” said the nobleman, turning to the crowd. “Please ensure the dam is destroyed this afternoon. The farmers need their river.”
The king nodded. “We’ll gladly do as you wish.”
“Oh—and do send up breakfast,” the nobleman added.
The crowd blinked.
“For whom?” someone called.
He smiled. “For the guest in the nest.”
The dragon took off. They soared past towers and treetops, higher and higher.
And there, nestled atop the tallest peak in the land, was a dragon’s nest—lined with twigs, furs, and a very indignant princess.
Her hair was windblown. Her jewels had slipped sideways. She sat, arms crossed, perched quite literally above everything.
The nobleman leaned over the dragon’s side and shouted, “Farewell, Your Highness! You wanted the highest position—well, there it is!”
And with a final salute, they vanished into the clouds—rider, nobleman, and dragon, flying toward a life where love was not earned by sacrifice, but offered freely.
The End.
Context is everything!
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
Well done, sir. Well done.
Highest position in the land indeed.