Hero

Hero wasn't a word she attributed to herself.  Wealthy.  Royal.  Trapped.  Betrayed.  Victim, even, but never hero.
It all happened so quickly.  She spent years locked in that tower, wishing for that very thing.  A hero to save her from her fate.
The Prince looked like an angel in the window.  The sunset lit him up in a blazing halo of glory.  It stunned her.  She had known him as a child, their betrothal ensured from her birth.  But she didn't know him as a man.  She gasped, but not from the sight of his deeply tan skin or his handsome smile.
She saw the tell-tell flight of birds.  She heard the scrape of talons.  The Dragon was stalking princely-prey.

It felt like a reflex, like breathing when she lunged for the Prince.  She knocked him to the stone floor just as the Dragon shot fire through the window.  Her hand fell on the hilt of the Prince's sword and she drew it without thinking.

The Dragon was outraged.  He tore into the bricks, desperate to get to the intruder.  To keep her from leaving.  To do his job.  He lashed out with a savage, snarling bite and she acted on instinct.  It took three blows.

Three blows made her a hero.
Three blows made the people celebrate her in the street.
Three blows to save a Prince's life.
Three blows to set her free.

It felt strange to be called a hero, but it was a strangeness she quite enjoyed.