Virgin on the Ridikalus.

Valour was its name, that charming city-state of no more than a thousand souls, still isolated in its valley, kept safe as ever it had been from the roiling world around it by the towering peaks of the Unclibables ... there'd been an unfortunate spelling error made during the Great Census ... but that's another story.

This story's about Virgin. Virgin was the daughter of Good King Colin ... at least, that's what he'd been christened ... Good King Colin. Not that Good was a bad king, exactly ... he was quite a good king, as kings go.

"Good King Good just sounds better than Bad King Good," he'd always thought.

Actually, he hadn't always thought it at all and moreover, it wasn't actually his thought anyway, but had been thought for him by the expensively-rewarded, soberly-attired, self-effacing gentleman who stood, an often unnoticed, near invisible 'eminence grise'  behind the King's left ear, and often leant forward to whisper into it.

The King's wife, Queen Ghastly, was a different kettle of fish entirely. With a countenance entirely that of a toad sadly inflicted with crusty warts, the body of a cow pregnant with twin cowlets and an ugly, halting gait, she was overwhelmingly acknowledged to be the kindest, most generous, loving lady in the entire valley. And not only by the men, mind you ... all the other ladies thought so too.

And Virgin? Ah!

Given the above descriptions of Their Majesties, how could you possibly envisage offspring more physically appealing than say ... oh, at the best, a rather pretty newt?

When Virgin made her first appearance as a debutante, perched high above the city in a vaulted window of the high-tower of the fairy-tale palace that was her home, the entire city swooned. Honestly. Everyone just fainted. She was absolutely beautiful ... breathtaking. Even to this day, when somebody penetrates her public persona and recognizes her in the mall or somewhere, she's still okay because the person's likely to faint anyway.

Look! A girl has to go shopping now and then, yes?

Anyhow, that was yesterday. The day I'm talking about is the day the dragon appeared for the first time, flapping a mighty wind round the little city, loosing people's washing, rattling their windows and quite often setting fire to their houses. The once idyllic little place was an absolute shambles. What hadn't been blown-over or burnt-down was just the palace. Nothing else remained standing. Strangely though ... and you might want to think about this ... not a soul had been struck by flying things, no-one had fallen into cunningly-hidden holes, not one person had even been singed, never mind actually crisped. What do you think I am? A sadist or something?

"What is it you want ?" The King was sat upon one of the chairs to the left of the High Verandah while the dragon sat upon the other half of the High Verandah. Now that the palace was crammed full of sadly disenfranchised subjects, it was where the King mostly lived except for his bedroom, which wasn't that big, considering he was a king.

"What do you think I want?" the dragon growled, "I want her ... the virgin."

"Then you'll go away?"

"Yes."

"For ever?"

"Yes."

The King thought about it for quite some time. Really. He really did. Quite a few minutes. But of course, in the end he was a king and he had the responsibilities of a king, didn't he?  ... and the duty ... and all that other stuff, didn't he ...

"Okay. She's up there." The King pointed to the High-Tower window where once the princess ... but I told you that already, didn't I.

"Father! Father! Save me!" shrieked the Princess, half of the dragon now inside the virginal boudoir ... though to be truthful, I'd had to enlarge the window opening to a substantial extent. To be real truthful, half the wall went.

And soon after that, so did the Princess, dangling vestaly from the dragon's dread jaws, her terrifying captor issuing a final, somewhat muffled roar of triumph as he bore his stunningly gorgeous prize away to his magnificent lair hidden high in the highest, unclimbablest height of the Unclibables.

And that's why the place is called Valour.

Good, isn't it!

You didn't expect that, I'll bet!

"Who are you talking to, dear?" The Princess turned from tickling the tip of the dragonling's sweet little nosey-wosey to rest a fond gaze upon her man's handsome, humanoid face, surrounded as ever by the flaming mane that was his hair. He was something to look at in the nude, too ... you've heard the expression 'hung like a dragon'? Well I am.

Where was I?

Oh yes.

"You don't think I overdid it, do you? Flattening everything and lighting all those fires?" A frown settled on the really good-looking dragon's really handsome face and he looked really ... you know ... remorseful. And then he giggled and completely ruined the illusion, didn't I.

Oh, okay; look. It's me; I admit it; I'm the dragon.

You didn't expect that either, did you!

We're very happy now. She's already heavy with our eighth set of dragonlings and the herbal treatments long ago activated the latent shiftability I'd detected that wonderful moonlit night, not that awfully long ago, when I'd soared elegantly over the sadly-neglected roof of her boudoir, ducked in the window and porked her where she lay. Of course, I turned into human form first or there'd have been a nasty mess. I'm big; you know what I mean?

Anyhow, soon we'll have more babies, and they'll have babies and then they'll  have babies, and there'll be lots and lots of us and real humans will have to come to turns with me being boss of everything.

I'll be kind though. They're rapidly running out of room, poor things and though tons of them pooh-pooh what's happening for all sorts of silly reasons, we've decided ... that's Virgin and me ... to help the humans save themselves. It's going to mean one hell of a culling program of course;  we reckon the numbers will have to be cut by tens of hundreds of megs ... whatever that is. It'll shove the rest of them back into the Iron Age probably. Virgin says Bronze but I say Iron. We've got a side-bet on it; nothing big, you understand.

But that wasn't why I stole her from her parents and sort of burnt the whole town down. I really liked her, see? After all, she'd let me do her the same day we met and I'm big, you know? Anyhow, would you believe it; first time and she pops the weasel. Before we could hardly think, she was starting to show - twin dragon embryos'll do that to you. Luckily, G & G are even thicker than really thick soup and hopefully to this day, still fondly remember their beloved, exquisitely-missed daughter as just being a wee bit fat.

The problem wasn't that she was supposed to remain a virgin or even that she wasn't, and was in fact highly pregnant. The problem was that she was going to produce dragons, not humans. They'd've slit the babies throats quick-smartish and then made her the centerpiece of a very large pile of burning sticks, while young'ns roasted chestnuts and old'ns knitted or got drunk as was their habit.

So, it's up with us dragons and down with most of the humans - I did say I'd be kind to the rest ... okay, the few that will be left. Now stop being so bloody picky, or I'll set light to your trousers.

Where was I again?

Oh, yes. That's about it, really. It was all because I needed her to restartup ... is that a real word? ... my clan, but well ... we didn't want to upset G&G, did we? So I pretended to be a bad dragon ... which I'm not, so watch it ... and they fell for it! My Virgin smiled when I said that. I suppose I did overdo it a bit, but hey, you should have seen me! I was wicked!

Anyhow, it's 'bye from me now and Granma VeeVee's blowing you a great big kiss. Tell your uncle Ernie to let me know how the culling's going, won't you ... I honestly reckon the air's getting clearer already. Your sister sends her love and says she found the stinkybomb you planted in her undies so there thank you very much smartypants.

Your loving Great, Great, Great ...

"Hey; VeeVee!"

"What is it, my glorious Ridikalus?"

"How many Greats am I?"

"Seven, Riddy dear; but the last one becomes 'grand', so that means six I suppose."

"So you mean Great, Great, Great, Great, Great  ... one two three four five ... Great Grandfather?"

"Sorry darling; I lost count ... say that again ...?"