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“That’s impossible,” Aziraphale said gently but firmly. “It cannot be what it looks like. Dragons don’t exist.” (Neither did dinosaurs, but that joke was still awaiting its time in the spotlight.)
“And yet, a fearsome wyrm had abducted Lady Antonia from her very garden, leaving but her headdress behind!” the courtier insisted, brandishing the aforementioned item as evidence. It was a remarkably elaborate construction in red and black, with layers upon layers of dark veils. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, which the other man took for righteous wrath.
“Make haste too, lest the lady expires in the beast’s heinous captivity! But heed the warning: the Black Knight had ridden to the rescue too, and we’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him since.”
Oh, now Aziraphale was definitely going to investigate.
“Hello? I, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round, am here to liberate fair Lady Antonia from the clutches of the dastardly wyrm!”
“You have sought the wicked wyrm, foolish one. But you have found your death!” A thunderous hiss drowned out the echoes of his voice, still bouncing between the cave walls, easily. A hiss that reminded him of someone…
“Is that you in there, Crawly? What the hell are you playing at?”
There was a sound of a large serpentine body slithering over gravel, and then a familiar human shape emerged from the dark.
“Crowley,” the demon corrected him, somewhat sullenly, and shrugged. “I'm here spreading foment. Wanted to try something more whimsical than the Black Knight alone.”
“So you what, turned into a giant snake and abducted an innocent human?”
“C’mon, angel, it wouldn't be any fun.” The demon’s grin turned teasing. “I’m Lady Antonia too, of course.”
“So you’re the lady… and the dragon who abducted her… and the knight who volunteered to rescue her?” Aziraphale checked to make sure. Crowley nodded, clearly proud of his machinations. “So why are you hiding here instead of returning triumphant to the castle? I can’t imagine this drafty cave is particularly comfortable.”
Crowley’s grin melted off his face.
“It is a bit damp,” he agreed vaguely, not meeting Aziraphale’s eye. In fact, he looked positively embarrassed. Aziraphale paused, his mind working through the implications.
“Oh. You’re stuck here because you can’t return as both Lady Antonia and her valiant savior the Black Knight at the same time, aren’t you...?”
Lady Antonia was returned to the castle, unharmed, with much fanfare. Sir Aziraphale, her noble rescuer, presented a scale from the wyrm’s hide, palm-sized, black with subtle reddish sheen. This was the only tangible proof of their adventure (other than the Lady herself, of course). The body of the slain wyrm disappeared overnight, leaving no trace behind.
Sir Aziraphale departed the castle shortly, turning down the rewards and asking for just two souvenirs instead: the wyrm’s scale and a lock of Lady Antonia’s hair.
Lady Antonia retired from the court some weeks later, citing the lingering stress of her abduction.
Nobody saw the Black Knight again either.
Only the tales remained.