Here it is, the penultimate chapter of the Lindworm Prince's tale, where everything comes together. Just the epilogue to go now!
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Seat of the Lindworm Prince
by Skaea
Contains: */M and */F Hotbuns with some tickling. Mildly NSFW; contains nudity.
Word Count: 8,082
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Chapter 7: The Final Straw
Poor Ingrid. Poor, poor Ingrid.
She had awoken that day in the hopes that her husband would be next to her, and hopefully willing enough to accept that they were well on their way to saving the kingdom. What she’d gotten, however, was her husband going missing. She’d searched all over the castle for him, but come up empty.
Her mother had been there on this day, and she had told her that he’d apparently gone out for the night, but nobody else had seen him, aside of course from Krak. And then Osmond burst into the castle with his soldiers behind him, carrying a nailed-shut coffin and a chained lindworm. The cruel prince had announced that for their crimes, Erland and Evangeline (the assassin who had been sent by Osmond himself after his own brother, and then thrown under the cart when he’d heard of her seemingly plotting with Erland) would be executed at dawn tomorrow.
The entire castle had erupted into chaos. People of all ages had attempted to swarm a smug, triumphant Osmond, only to be siezed and dragged off to the dungeon for the crime of “resisting authority”. The soldiers, forced by Osmond’s lash, had scoured the whole castle in search of conspirators, and Turid had given her daughter just enough time to hide in one of the secret tunnels before she (Turid) was caught too.
And to salt the wound, Osmond had jailed the soldiers themselves in person, for their own “mistreatment” of him during that disastrous training day.
So it was that the castle was now horribly understaffed, bereft of anyone to defend it from the horde of angry villagers about to storm its gates, and host to one very lonely and inconsolable bride to be, who was in her jammies and stuck in a cramped underground passageway.
In short, it wasn’t a good day.
In hindsight, perhaps Ingrid should’ve paid more attention to her fiance’s concerns rather than dismissing them as everyone else did. She didn’t want him to worry, but then again his worries had proven to be very much true. All the couple had had were a bunch of scullery maids and stablehands, compared to Osmond’s entire army, who obeyed him out of sheer abject terror.
Perhaps she should just remain seated here forever, with only the lit candle in front of her for company…
Something scaly brushed against her rump, and she yelped, jumping badly enough to bonk her head against the ceiling (it was a rather narrow passageway). Rubbing her scalp, she looked down, and covered her mouth to keep herself screaming. There was a snake next to her. A snake with… a collection of papers wound about its tail?
“Relax, it’s me,” the zaltys whispered.
“Oh, thank God, I was hoping for someone to talk to,” Ingrid sighed. “How did it all go wrong?”
“I was wondering that myself, but then I found these,” Sormr replied. She passed the papers over to Ingrid, who unfurled them and laid them in front of the candle to read.
Her expression became more and more horrified with every word and chart she took in. She would swear her skin was turning slightly green.
“Oh my God. No. NO. He can’t. He wouldn’t.”
“Either he did, or he’s planning to,” replied Sormr.
“Where is Erland?” Ingrid’s dark eyes were wide with pure horror.
“In the deepest pit in the dungeon. I was planning to go down and get him, but I’m not big enough—”
“You were small enough to slip through the ventilation and bring these documents to me,” replied Ingrid. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness, but we have to hurry! As soon as the sun rises tomorrow, Osmond plans to have Erland executed, which gives us just six hours to—”
The shriek of utter despair stopped Sormr’s rambling. She looked at Ingrid expectantly — and was surprised to see her distraught expression transition into a death glare of tranquil fury. Calm as the sea without wind on the outside, but burning deep down with a rage as hot as a thousand suns.
“Lead me to the dungeons at once.” Her voice sounded like ice cracking apart. “I have to stop Prince Osmond. I have to stop him NOW.”
*****
Alone among the castle staff, Destin stood watch over the entrance to the dungeon, a massive wooden door which was twice as tall as he was. He had done nothing when the castle had plunged into chaos, admittedly because he was too scared to anger Osmond even more than he’d already had. It was a cowardly, selfish move, and he’d beaten himself up inside very, very badly for it, but what else could he do? The poor man had struggled to avoid the crossfire for years, and now the conflict was catching up fast.
It was lucky that Osmond hadn’t thought ill of him for his refusal to act. He had, however, been assigned to watch the entrance in case anyone had tried to break in. That possibility was inevitable now, and he was quite sure he’d guess who would come for him and the locked door soon enough.
In the meantime, with the sun descending over the horizon, he was starting to feel a little drowsy…
Something hissed from one of the ventilation grates below him. Startled, he dropped the keys, which fell between the bars and into the darkness below. “W-what the — NO!”
“Relax, it’s me,” said Sormr’s voice from under the grate. “I got the keys. You’re still in league with Erland, right?”
He nodded hesitantly. “Where’s Ingrid?”
“Using one of the secret tunnels leading into the dungeon. We can’t let the front door open or Osmond will know about the break-in. If anyone asks, you fell asleep and dropped the keys, got it?”
“Rrrrright. Well, they won’t be able to get the door open to throw me in there. I’ll see if I can distract them while you get everyone out.”
“Acknowledged. So, ready to save a dragon and slay a prince?”
He gulped. “I wouldn’t go as far as to kill this man… He’s gone off the rails, but—”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll bring him to justice, whatever it takes. Now, cover me.”
Destin nodded hesitantly, and heard her slip into the ventilation shaft with the keys jingling behind her. In spite of himself, in spite of his fear that Osmond’s rage would be upon them all, he hoped both she and Ingrid would know where to go…
*****
I’ve done a lot of bizarre things, Erland thought bitterly, but sleeping in my own shed skin really has to top them all.
Overcome by love-borne grief over the fact that he’d never get to marry the light of his life, the Lindworm Prince had shed all of his skins in succession, turning back into the form of a stark naked young man who’d lost everything he’d ever owned, even the clothes on his back. He was doomed to die, all because his asshole brother refused to let go of his mad ambitions for power. If this was what being a prince was like, jockeying for the throne with people who wanted to have you offed for their own petty, stupid reasons, or try and depose you to elect someone they liked better in your place, what was the point? If so many wanted him dead, they’d get their wish by tomorrow…
He glanced up at his would-be assassin, Evangeline. The vampire was no longer plagued by the rays of sunlight that had previously lit the dungeon now that the sun had gone down, but she was no doubt feeling even more miserable than he was. She had been forced to try and murder him, failed abysmally and gotten her bottom abused to high heaven besides, and then had been thrown away like garbage, all in less than a week. Her reputation was no doubt in ashes by now, and tomorrow, her body would surely follow.
As would the lives of half the kingdom’s population. No. Of ALL the kingdom’s population.
He wished he could do something, anything. But Osmond would shout him down, or hurt those whom he held dear. He had the power to do that. Erland didn’t.
Surely, he thought in despair, nothing in the entire world could save him now.
That was when a noise reached his ears. A faint squealing and screeching coming from inside the walls. Perhaps it was the ghosts of the dead out to finish the job? It’d be better than anything, he surmised. Perhaps his next life would be better than this…
A stone panel in the wall of the dungeon chamber where Erland and Evangeline were being kept slid down, and a figure staggered out of it…
“AIIIIIEEEEEEE! OW OW OWIE OWWWW! YEEOUUUUCH! GET THEM OFF MEEEEE! GYAAAAIEEEEEE!!!”
A dark-haired young woman with tattered bedwear and a pained expression slipped into the room, a swarm of rats in her wake. Half a dozen of them had sunk their sharp little teeth into her bottom, which was jiggling back and forth as the rodents squabbled over the tender, tasty treat. She managed to stand up a second later, before starting to pull them off.
“Erland?” Ingrid cried after a full minute of nonstop screaming, her voice cracked with pain from so many rat bites. “Are you down there?”
The prince sat bolt upright, looking up at the edge of the pit. His fiancee was peeking over the edge, and upon seeing him naked and wrapped in shed dragon skins, she squeaked and shielded her eyes. “Oh my…”
“INGRID!” Erland called from the bottom of the hole. “What are you doing here?!”
“Saving your life, that’s what.”
“But why? What led you to risk your life coming here?”
Ingrid explained everything she and Sormr had discovered. By the time she was done, Erland’s face had lost all of its color.
“He wouldn’t.”
“I said the same,” replied Ingrid. “If he starts with you, the rest will surely follow. Now, let’s get a move on!” She looked around, hoping to grab some rope. But all that was there was the harness… and a certain vampiress attached to it…
“So… Evangeline, is it?” she asked, folding her arms and glowering at the bloodsucking assassin.
“If it helps any, I apologized to Erland already.” The immortal lady looked oddly downcast for a seductive villain. “I do feed on the blood of the living, but your wonderful fiance just isn’t my type, and I wouldn’t dare take him away from you.”
“Consider yourself forgiven. But how come you were sent after him in the first place?!”
“Look, I tried to say no. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and threatened to have me killed in public for refusing. I don’t want to go back, not to… to HIM,” she added, shuddering.
“Wait, who?” asked Ingrid.
“It’s not important,” replied Evangeline. “Is there anything you can do to help us out?”
“Can’t you free yourself, though? You have vampire powers—”
“The fucker who tied me up wove garlic cloves into the harness. I can’t use my abilities unless it’s broken.”
Ingrid swore quietly, and then looked up at where the harness was tied. It was hanging from the middle of a rope stretched across the room, very close to the ceiling, which in turn went around two pulleys and was tied to the floor.
Then she remembered the rats that had been gnawing on her seat, the ones she’d run into in the passageway. An idea began to form in her head. A very crazy idea, but an idea nonetheless.
Turning back to the passageway she’d used to enter, she knelt down to stick her head in, and started to sing a traditional lullaby from her homestead, the same one she’d sung in the forest to try and charm the birds that had instead attacked her. If the stories were true, what she was doing would surely affect ANY form of wildlife…
Sure enough, dozens of rats began filing out of the hole. As she launched into the refrain, they started climbing the rope holding up the garlic harness, and then down onto the harness itself. And upon reaching the ropes tying up Evangeline’s body, several of them started chewing on the strands.
A rising commotion outside made Ingrid falter a little. But she kept singing, hoping the guards wouldn’t come in before the vampiress was freed.
Finally, with a great snap, the harness came off — just in time for one of the wardens to burst in with a startled yell. But instead of diving fangs-first at him, Evangeline fell into the pit…
…and then flew back out, carrying the naked prince with her, a pair of leathery light red wings emerging from her back.
The guard nearly soiled himself. After setting Erland down next to his wife-to-be, Evangeline touched down in front of him, smiling. “Don’t worry. I only have one victim on my mind… but just in case you raise the alarm—”
“No no, as you were,” said the guard, pulling off his helmet to reveal his platinum-blonde locks and piercing blue eyes. “I was wondering how soon it’d be before Osmond’s authority would break.”
“What’s that noise outside, then?” asked Erland, covering his privates with his hand and trying not to look him in the face.
“Someone managed to get their hands on the keys the outside warden was holding. Everyone’s busting out as we speak.”
“That’d be Sormr!” Ingrid smiled. “Best snake I ever met…”
“How did you get those rats to obey you, anyway?!” cried the guard. “I thought the idea of princesses charming woodland animals with their singing was only a fairy tale…”
“I did too, until I learned the Song of All Living Things. A spell Oili taught me once when I visited her shop, if you want to know — I tried using it at one point while looking for Oili in the enchanted forest, but it got overridden by the magic of the woods. I can’t believe it works even on rats, though!”
“What do we do now that we’ve made it this far?” asked Evangeline. “I’ve thirsted for too long and can’t use my full power. I need to be taken to Osmond r—”
“If you need a snack for the road,” said the guard, “my ass is at your disposal.”
The others stared at him, dumbfounded.
“It’s the least I can do,” the guard explained. “I was the one who told Osmond about you two, and I’m so, so sorry that it led to all this. Better to live to make a difference — forever if I have to — than to be swept away and forgotten knowing that I messed up on such an astronomical scale.”
“Ouch,” mumbled Ingrid, cringing in sympathy.
Jacob had a downcast look. “Believe me, the rest of the army feels the same way as I do, now that they know what a complete asshole Osmond is. You all need to be at your best to take him down. I know I’ll turn once you’re done feeding, miss, but if Erland can provide political sanctuary—”
“And more livestock to feed from than you can dream of?” Erland cut in. “Both granted. But first things first…”
There was a banging noise from outside the dungeon, and Destin screamed.
“We’re out of time,” said Ingrid. “If you still have the strength to protect us all, use it now!”
Fire licked around Erland’s jaws. “You read my mind.”
As the two of them bolted out of the room, the guard, who was taking off his armor now, had his back to Evangeline, his juicy rounded bottom, now clad in not but his undershorts, directly in front of her.
“Formalities out of the way first,” said the vampiress as she licked her lips. “What is your name?”
“Jacob,” replied the white-haired guard. “Jacob Frost.”
A few moments later, there was a CHOMP of fangs plunging into tender buttocks and a screeching “EEEEEEEEYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCHHHH!!!” But as long as he contributed to Osmond’s downfall, Jacob surmised in between shrieks of pain, it would be worth every awkward moment.
*****
“YOU LOST THE KEYS?!” Osmond screamed in Destin’s face. “HOW COULD YOU?!”
“It wasn’t my fault that the grate was so close!” the majordomo responded, purposely hiding the fact that he hadn’t asked Sormr to give them back. “I dozed off and had them in my hand and when I woke up they were gone!”
“YOU ABSOLUTE FAGGOT-BRAINED WASHES-HIS-ASS-WITH-A-TOILET-BRUSH MORON! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!”
Destin rolled his eyes, looking oddly smug. “I’ve doomed us all, I know. Go ahead and spank me now.”
“Oh no. Not this time. I’ll make you watch. Watch as your precious prince dies in front of the whole fucking kingdom! And then have YOU executed as well for fucking up for the LAST TIME!”
To his surprise, Destin was unfazed at the threat. But then again, there was a bone-rattling roar from behind the locked entrance right after Osmond had finished…
The guards gave in to panic, promptly scattering in all directions. Osmond was right in front of the door, and didn’t even register Destin wriggling free and fleeing as well. The prince’s whole body frozen in terror, he couldn’t even muster the energy to escape himself…
KA-THROOOOOOM!
The ten-foot-tall, inch-thick oakwood door was reduced to splinters as the Lindworm Prince, all fifty feet of him, smashed his way through with a tenth of the kingdom in tow, all pouring out of the stairwell leading down to the dungeon. Before Osmond could react, he was scooped up in his mouth as the dragon plowed through three walls without stopping. Spitting a saliva-drenched Osmond out onto the floor, he reared up in front of him with his fangs bared and his eyes narrowed. They were now in the hall leading to the armory, big enough that Erland’s dragon form could fit with plenty of room to spare.
“Osmond, Osmond, Osmond,” he growled. “Did you honestly think you’d sit on your ass for the rest of your life while you marched the kingdom straight to its ruin? Did you think nobody would get off THEIR ass to try and stop you destroying their people, their ecosystems, their LIVES?”
“YOU FOOL!” Osmond shrieked. “You don’t understand what it means to fear being deposed! Let me show you, right here, right now.”
“I do know what it feels like to worry about that, actually. How it feels to fear for my life. So if you’re going to fight me to the death… why don’t you do it while we’re both at our best?”
Before Osmond could put his other foot in his mouth, Erland’s maw began to smoke. The spoiled prince did the sensible thing: he turned and fled.
FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH!
“EEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCHHHH! HOT HOT HOTTTTTTTTT!!!”
Osmond fled in mortal terror, desperately seeking the nearest source of water to quench his roasting rump. His eyes fell on the bucket used for mopping the floor, and he instantly rushed to grab it… only to slip and slide on the slick surface and end up careening towards the armor stands.
With an echoing scream and a great CRASH, Osmond collided with one of the suits, and it fell on top of him. While the fire was thankfully snuffed out, a sword display was also loosed from its stand by the collision, and as soon as the prince started tugging himself out of there, his bottom visible over the armor, the sword ended up falling point-first towards it…
SHINNNNK!
“YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”
Erland would’ve laughed himself sick had he not been so enraged. As it was, he barreled towards his brother with the intent of toasting him a second time.
Osmond scrambled out of the armor, lunging for the bucket. Just as Erland’s maw opened wide, he grabbed it and threw the contents at his face.
SPLOOOSH!
“NGAAAAAAH!” Erland recoiled, coughing smoke and bubbles. The soapy water tasted absolutely awful, and with his mouth wet, he couldn’t breathe fire. Snarling in frustration, he decided that close combat would have to do. But Osmond was already slipping on the armor he’d knocked over earlier…
“AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
What he hadn’t realized was that Jacob, being easily bored and guessing that the armor would be used soon enough, had filled it up with ice. On his off days he practiced ice-based magic, some of it taught to him by Oili herself; the prank was paying off, and now some very cold metal was being introduced to the hole in Osmond’s undershorts and the bare buttock skin underneath.
Erland decided to take the proactive route, and Osmond had only gotten the chestplate, shin guards, and waist armor on before the lindworm smashed him with his tail. He went sailing across the room, smacking upside-down onto the wall above one of the suits with the jousting lances. He thought for sure he’d be impaled, only to fall BEHIND the suit, the lance tip snagging on his waist plate and pulling it and his pants off. (The ripping noise and pained scream caused by the cold metal being yanked off the skin frozen upon it was just a bonus.)
Thinking quickly, Osmond knocked over the suit of armor just as Erland lunged, the lance pointing at the angry dragon; however, Erland saw the suit wobbling and dodged to the side, the suit smashing to the ground next to him. Osmond was struggling to get back on his feet, but he looked up too late to see the razor-toothed maw closing in on him. No, his fangs were not actually aiming at his rump, but an even softer target right next to it…
SNAP!
“AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Screaming in terror, Osmond was lifted into the air as Erland’s fangs embedded themselves in his groin, the dragon turning and carrying him off towards the front of the castle with terrifying speed. He had to get to the throne room, that was where he’d have the best chance of presenting his case…
He’d barely managed to burst through the doors behind the room when he found a hail of arrows whizzing through the air towards him, pinging off his hide but managing to catch him off guard all the same. Startled, he dropped Osmond… who fell upside-down onto the throne, with several arrows missing their mark. Unlike Erland’s teeth, they at least had the luck to miss his crotch.
THUMP THUMP THUMP!
“YIIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWCCH!!”
Screaming and struggling, he managed to pull the arrows out of his butt, and then rolled off the throne, seizing a sword from one of the soldiers he’d stationed in the throne room. He’d barely gotten the chance to wrench it from his hands, though, when two fanged mouths lunged at him…
CHOMP! CHOMP!
“AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Evangeline and Jacob had clamped their fangs upon each of Osmond’s buttocks. Screaming and flailing, he tried to shake them off, eventually having to resort to forcing the guards to obey him and pull them free. By the time the two fiends had disengaged, Osmond was feeling woozy from a bad case of anemia, even though his rage was still building to tremendous levels.
“THAT was for throwing me to the wolves, you MONSTER!” Evangeline shrieked, retreating into the shadows and trying to find her way back to the cellar. Jacob, already growing his fangs in, was quick to follow.
Erland, meanwhile, slithered around the podium, teeth bared, and lunged at Osmond…
…who leaped onto his head, motioning for the guards to lash his mouth shut with chains, and pointed the sword downwards, aiming right between his eyes.
Erland, not for the first time this week, felt a jolt of mortal terror. “Osmond, wait!” he cried. “Don’t you know who I am? Would you dare to murder your own brother just to remain in power?”
For several terrible seconds, Osmond stared down at him, as incredulous as everyone else who’d gathered in the throne room, having made their way there as soon as they’d escaped the dungeon. He lowered his sword, standing up a little straighter…
…and started laughing.
It was a contemptuous, disbelieving guffaw betraying total disregard for all present. Osmond clutched his side with his free hand, tears rolling down his face (though whether they were from laughter or pain was uncertain).
“You FOOL!” Osmond snapped, the laughter stopping like a lamp being switched off. “You honestly believe you can buy your way back to my good graces just because you’re my BROTHER? NO. I won’t let you stop me. And it’s not like you ever could, anyway! Where were you when I blackmailed and threatened every business in the kingdom into feeding me money for the war effort? Where were you when I poisoned my own mother, nonlethally of course, to leave her forever infirm so only I could rule? Where were you when I forced my soldiers to plant the filth in Oili’s shop that drove her out of the kingdom? You did nothing. Absolutely NOTHING. Why? Because you weren’t there! It was like you had never existed at all!
“I suppose you’ve realized by now how much I fucking HATE YOU. I sent that vampiress after you not so I could have you dead, but so I could convince the courts that you two were conspiring against the kingdom to destroy it from within. So I could have the public believe that you, the sickeningly sweet dragon prince, were secretly colluding with DEMONS! And once their opinion was turned against you, ALL OF DRAGON-KIND would be next. Dragons around the world would be hunted to EXTINCTION! Why do I want the dragons gone, you ask? Because you, Erland of Wyrmwood, took my life and my position away from me! If you knew what was good for you then you should’ve eaten your sweet little princess and gone far away from this prissy little kingdom, and never showed your ugly fucking face ever again. And now… Now that your little rebellion has cost the castle everyone it relies upon to remain standing… You. Never. WILL.”
He raised his sword high, ignoring the horrified screams of all the soldiers and staffers and civilians, and bought it down…
CLANG!
The blade was deflected, and sent spinning high into the air, by a dagger that had been thrust in between it and Erland’s head. Ingrid, in a fit of righteous fury, had run forward at maximum speed, leaped onto the dragon’s snout, and sent the sword flying with a diving parry just before it could plant itself in his skull. The bride to be seized him round the collar, dragged his head down, and slammed it against Erland’s brow, leaving his bottom in the air just as the sword came down… point-first.
SHINNNNK!
“YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”
Wrenching Ingrid away from himself, Osmond sprang to his feet and hopped around, trying to yank the sword out. Upon succeeding, he lost his balance and toppled off Erland’s head, smashing into one of the startled soldiers. The chain fell loose, allowing Erland to lift his head up and glare at his fallen brother.
“So, what do you have to say for yourself, Prince Erland?” Osmond managed to get up and kick the downed soldier aside, sneering at the dragon, knowing full well that he’d be burned alive but not caring any longer.
“I don’t need to say anything. Not anymore.” The corners of Erland’s mouth were turned up in a slight smile. “Besides, you’ve basically given yourself away to the wrong person.”
“W-WHAT?!” Erland was red-faced, motioning for the soldiers to hand him another sword that would never come. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE WRONG PERSON?”
“Don’t look at me. Ask her.” He nodded to the side.
Osmond looked in the direction the dragon was indicating, and it only took a second for all the color to drain from his face.
Queen Erika, Oili with Thought and Memory on her shoulders (as well as a stack of very familiar-looking papers clutched in her tendril-fingers), the dignitaries of no less than three other Danish kingdoms, and every single citizen within the walls of Wyrmwood (all armed with stereotypical mob weaponry) were at the wide-open doors to the throne room, the horde filling the entire palace courtyard, the drawbridge, and the town space just outside the castle. Framed by the gradually brightening night sky, all present were gaping wide-eyed at the scene before them with a unanimous look of shock, horror, and mounting fury.
“M-Mother?” asked Osmond, his voice a tiny, barely audible whimper.
Erika moved in for the kill, taking out her royal scepter, a five-foot wrought-iron staff with a spiked, horned dragon’s head made of gold and inlaid with rubies on its tip. “Osmond, my dear sweet prodigal son… Why, oh why, have you the nonexistent balls to try and MURDER YOUR OWN BELOVED TWIN BROTHER?!”
“Mother, I’m so s-”
WHACK!
“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!”
“THERE IS NO SORRY! YOU RUINED MY HEALTH, AND NEARLY ENDED MY REIGN JUST SO YOURS COULD START!”
WHACK!
“YEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!”
“YOU DRAINED MY PEOPLE’S MONEY UNTIL THEY CAN’T EVEN LIVE ON THE STREETS!”
WHACK!
“HOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!”
“AND YOU PLANNED TO SEND OUR KINGDOM ON A SUICIDE MISSION THAT WOULD BRING RUIN TO THE. ENTIRE. FUCKING. COUNTRY!!”
WHACK!
“AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
With one final blow from her scepter, she sent him sprawling. Huffing and clutching her chest, Erika worried at that point that the stress of her anger would give her heart failure. But she steeled herself. It had to be done. There was no other way.
“I leave you for only one week. ONE. WEEK. And I come back to THIS?!”
“Mother, I—”
“NO! Don’t you DARE give me any ‘Mother’ bullshit, not anymore! We have documented evidence, and a lot of it at that, to prove that you are a disgrace to the kingdom, and a disgrace to our family. You are a Wyrmwood citizen no more, and for ALL of your crimes, you are sentenced to wander the earth in misery, hated by all who acknowledge your existence and ignored by those who don’t. There will be no place for you, Osmond, not here, not anywhere. Get out of this kingdom. And do not come back. Ever. Again.”
Osmond sputtered in mortal panic, but Erika’s scream would’ve spun windmills in Holland.
“GET! OOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUT!!!”
That did it. Osmond screamed like a little girl and turned to flee as fast as his legs could carry him.
“GET HIM!!!” someone roared from the mob. It was enough; the entire kingdom exploded into a collective apopleptic fit, a tidal wave of unadulterated rage that was focused on one person alone. Terror and shame propelled Osmond at ridiculous speeds even as the crowd screamed with fury all around him, stabbing and swiping at his clothes and his bottom with every weapon they had on them. Within a matter of minutes, his expensive clothing was torn to pieces, leaving him in not but his undershorts and with his perfectly groomed hair like a rat’s nest. His bottom suffered dozens of painful jabs from pitchforks and agonizing burns from torches, the crowd attempting to lynch the shamed former tyrant. And his troubles weren’t over yet, either — before he could even reach the drawbridge, a rock-hard tail had swept under his legs and knocked him over, sending him on his hands and knees. Krak’s skin turned to stone in the sunlight, but remained jointed enough to move, which made him even sturdier than he usually was. On top of this, his paddle-like hands were now perfect for the spanking of a lifetime…
Seizing him by the band of his undershorts, Krak lifted the screaming prince with one hand. The other was drawn back in preparation to swing…
“NO! NONONO!! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
WHACK!
“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!”
TWHACK!
“YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!!”
WHAM!
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
SMACK!
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Just before the last swipe of his hand, Krak released his hold on Osmond’s underwear, and so with one final, tremendous CRACK, his hand sent Osmond flying like a ball from a cricket bat. He soared over the angry crowd, limbs flailing, and realized to his horror that dozens of very sharp pitchforks were right below his plummeting bottom…
SHNNK!
“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!” He leaped into the air, arcing up and then down towards another pitchfork.
POINK!
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!” And he made another pain-powered jump.
SHIKKK!
“AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” And another.
Sailing into the air and over the walls surrounding the courtyard, he realized to his horror that he was plummeting towards the moat, and the crocodiles within it. With an echoing scream, he landed in the water with a loud SPLASH, which was followed by more splashes, screams, and snapping jaws.
It seemed that Osmond had met his end in his own croc-infested moat, but then he burst out of the water, a ravenous reptile clamped on each buttock, and with a burst of strength bought by mortal panic, he pulled himself free, his underwear being ripped to pieces. Now completely naked, he ran for dear life off into town, the infuriated mob of citizens swarming him from all directions.
By some miracle, he eventually managed to get away after miles of running, though his bottom was jabbed, singed, slapped, and scratched until it was red and raw. But once he’d escaped the crowd, he ran headlong into an entire forest’s worth of woodland critters, birds and beasts and bugs of every shape and size, all of which fell on him with an equally unbridled wrath. And Osmond continued running, screaming like a man possessed all the way, his bottom turning redder still and then finally purple from thousands of bites, stings, scratches, pecks, jabs, and more. He wouldn’t stop, not after he’d fled the kingdom’s borders, an enraged horde of men, women, children, and creatures stampeding after him and making the ground tremble. And he wouldn’t stop even as he was chased far off into the horizon, his screams of absolute terror echoing for miles, never to be seen again.
*****
There was only a small group of people remaining inside the castle now. Erland and Ingrid, Oili and Thought and Memory, Turid and Colden, Erika with Destin and Sormr (Jacob and Evangeline had chosen to retreat into the depths of the castle and wait for night to fall).
“I… I don’t know what to say,” said Erland, already in the process of shedding his dragon skin. “I can’t thank you enough. All of you.”
Ingrid’s parents were hugging her tight, Turid kissing her daughter’s hair. “Ingrid, my sweet daughter… We’re so glad you’re okay,” she cooed.
“If you want to return to the farmhouse, it’ll always be open…” said Colden. “I hope you’re happy to know that I’ve managed to make quite a sum from selling all my old pitchforks to the mob back there.”
Erland chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. “Where did you get so many?”
“Farmers like us have lots to spare. In case of wolves, dragons, and so on.”
Everyone busted out laughing at that.
“For Osmond’s sake, I hope he comes to his senses in the future,” said Thought.
“He’ll never be welcome here, though, or anywhere else for that matter,” added Memory.
“Not until he makes amends, though I doubt that will happen anytime soon,” said Oili. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad our plan succeeded.”
“You don’t mean agitating Osmond into dropping his guard, making him lose control of himself and threaten to bring his wrath down upon the kingdom, and tricking him into thinking he’s won so he can start gloating in stereotypical fairy tale villain fashion in front of the entire castle staff?” asked Sormr.
“I was going to pretend to have given up anyway,” mumbled Erland, as Ingrid helped him strip another layer of skin off. “The attempted assassination, imprisonment, and intent of executing me probably weren’t part of the plan, though.”
Erika, who had been filled in on all the events since her departure, tutted in disgust. “To think that he wanted to dispose of his own family,” she said with a sneer aimed at nobody in particular. “No son of mine would ever do that. Not to me, not to anyone.”
“Perhaps it is partly my fault that Osmond was like this.” Oili looked up at the stained glass window. “Remember those onions you took to bear children? And specifically how peeling them was required?”
“Onions have layers, yes,” said Destin. “So, essentially, the onion that wasn’t peeled…”
“That was the one that became Erland. The peeled one was Osmond. Their very essence was transformed by the spell into developing children. But the one with the skin on was complex from the start, while the peeled one bore only the purest essence of onion…”
“…which became the purest essence of a human child,” finished Ingrid.
“There was something else I told the queen, but she didn’t stay long enough for me to clarify, and I made the mistake of failing to do so in the first place.”
“Peel both onions, I know,” said Erika.
“Not just that. ‘Once you use them, don’t throw any of them away, for the ones you have left will surely spoil.’“
Everyone was completely silent for a long moment.
“…Oh, God,” Erika whimpered. “I threw my own son away like garbage. My own son.”
Turid and Colden hugged Ingrid a little tighter.
“It’s like I said a while ago,” Erland said sadly. “If I’d remained in the castle since birth, I could’ve prevented Osmond from becoming… well, what he is now, long before it began.”
“Exactly,” added Oili.
“I thought when you were talking about throwing the onions away, you meant for me to eat both of them no matter how they tasted,” said Erika. “I didn’t expect the onions to become my own children… I made multiple grievous errors, and they nearly cost us everything. Erland, I’m so sorry. For everything. Truly, I am. Can you forgive me?”
“The past is past, Mother,” Erland replied, now down to his last skin and looking once again like a sack of scaly cloth. “Though come to think of it, I guess that explains why my breath as a dragon stinks enough to make everyone clear the room.”
Everyone laughed even harder at that one.
“Well, shall we get you clothed again?” asked Destin, noting Erland tearing his way out of his final layer of dragon skin with help from Ingrid’s dagger. “You haven’t worn anything since, well, what happened yesterday.”
“It’s alright,” Erland replied, managing to get to his feet. “I’ll find something to wear a bit l—”
The doors to the throne room opened up again, and the foreign dignitaries, along with the allies of the Lindworm Prince and a mob of placated citizens, found themselves staring at the sole remaining heir to the throne of Wyrmwood… who happened to be naked as a baby.
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!”
It wouldn’t be long afterward before a painting would come to hang in the palace gallery depicting this exact moment… and Erland, in spite of looking back at it with good humor, decided for the sake of his dignity to have it taken down and stored in the most private vault of the treasury room.
*****
As the first moon rose over a new era in Wyrmwood, Evangeline and Jacob sat on the roof over Erland and Ingrid’s bedroom. The lanky, pale-haired ice mage, now dressed in silken clothes of varying shades of blue, had come to accept his fate as a blood-drinking menace, just one who chose not to prey on anyone except the truly deserving. Of course, if he was to find love it’d have to be with another immortal or undead being, but who hadn’t made sacrifices in these trying times?
“Are you alright with this?” the red-clad lady asked, looking at her blue-covered companion. “Our diet, our immortal lifespans, the whole daylight burning thing…”
“I can live with that,” he replied, grinning and flashing his fangs. “I spent my entire career under Osmond’s thumb, which for my taste was even worse. I lived in fear of him, unable to do anything. We all did. But now that he’s gone, now that we have the freedom to live out our lives as citizens of Wyrmwood… well, I can’t ever be proud enough to know that I helped.”
“Prince Erland must be proud of you too, I bet.”
He chuckled, a twinkle in his ice-blue eyes. “You can say that.”
It was indeed true. Jacob’s understandable guilt over both inadvertently triggering that two-day fit of
explosive rage and doing nothing to stop the ensuing chaos had led him to decide that he’d had enough. His act of bravery against a rampaging Osmond, though more than a little undignified, had not gone unnoticed by Erland. As soon as he’d gotten dressed, he’d knighted the white-haired young man without delay, though he had to do it in the ballroom at the heart of the castle, so Jacob wouldn’t get the world’s deadliest suntan. Now the head of the prince’s personal night guard, Jacob felt like he was over the moon, rather than the other way around.
“So, where will you be going?” he asked.
His companion looked up at the moon, now full and round as a great silvery saucer. “I’m not sure. Regardless of the fact that I sided with Erland, I’m still guilty of making an attempt on his life. I’ve been meaning to talk to him about my sentence, but one thing’s for sure: I’m not staying here. Not after yesterday, and certainly not after—”
“The incident with the pixies?” he laughed.
She lightly cuffed him on the back of the head. “The less said about that, the better.”
Jacob chuckled, but then he sat up straighter. “He’s here. Might as well say hello.”
With this he began creeping down towards the edge of the roof, making to unlatch the window and slip into the room.
“Uh, Jacob? I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Evangeline felt her rump begin to tingle.
“Oh come on, it’s not like he’ll try to put a stake in my heart just because I didn’t come in through the door,” Jacob replied, now dangling by his ankles in front of the window.
Which was promptly flung open to let the breeze in, the frame smacking him in the face.
WHACK! “GAAAH!” WHUMP-SHRIPPPPP! “AAAAAAAAAGH!”
Evangeline sighed, rolling her large purple eyes. “Told you,” she muttered, before spreading her wings and taking off after him.
Jacob was lucky that his fellow vampiress was there, for if he were alone he’d have fallen off every roof on the way down, spikes and all. As it was, he slid down the roof towards the first set of iron spikes jutting from its edge, and was a mere second from hitting them butt-first by the time she caught up with him.
“OH NOOOOO!” he wailed.
SHINNKKSSSSSSSSSSH!“EEEEEEEYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCHHH!”
Who else but Erland stuck his head out of the window, frowning at the noise. “Jacob?!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHH! GET ME OFF THESE THINGS!! OW OWIE OUUUUUUCH!”
It took a lot of squealing and struggling before Jacob was pulled off the spikes, and Erland graciously left the window open and, per vampire customs, invited the two of them into the room.
It was a few minutes before Jacob had his pants and undershorts pulled partway down and was sitting in a large bucket full of ice-cold water and some of Oili’s soothing potion, with Erland conversing with Evangeline.
“So, where’s Ingrid?”
“With Mother, discussing matters with the dignitaries from the neighboring kingdoms. From what I’ve heard, with Osmond deposed it seems that they’re coming to an understanding.”
“Oh, good.”
“So, what does this mean for us?” asked Jacob, wiggling his bare bum a little to let the water slosh over it.
“Well, I know you’re staying,” said Erland. “But Evangeline… well, she was complicit, though not at all by her own will, to high treason against the court of Wyrmwood, and me in particular.”
The vampiress shivered, remembering her untoward escapade the previous night. “I tried to kill an innocent man for the sake of a guilty one. I’ll never forgive myself…”
“It isn’t your fault. But the court is still demanding a penalty. So by my royal decree, you are hereby sentenced to banishment from Wyrmwood. I mean, I know you don’t want to stay…”
She folded her arms and sulked. “To be fair, I’d much rather have a stake rammed through my chest than be in the presence of anyone who’d dare to remind me of that incident in the woods…”
Both men burst into giggles.
“Wouldn’t you require me to be bought to court, though?” Evangeline asked hastily. “Or has that decree already been made?”
“The summonings and discussion happened in the throne room,” replied Erland. “Stained glass windows. We did get the paperwork processed, though, so the kingdom expects you gone by tomorrow morning. If it helps, what you said about the… incident… would mean that banishment would actually be merciful.”
Jacob exploded into helpless laughter, banging his hand against the side of the bucket. Evangeline covered her face with both her hands and her wings, extremely flustered.
The door to the room opened, and Ingrid strode in with Sormr, as usual, draped around her shoulders.
“How’d it go, sweetie?” asked Erland.
“Splendidly,” replied Sormr. “Our neighbors agreed to lend humanitarian aid and financial assistance for all the damages Osmond inflicted upon the kingdom and ooooh, my.”
Ingrid was staring open-mouthed at Evangeline, and that scandalous red silk gown of hers which gleamed in the light of the moon. The latter realized at that point that there was a little silver crucifix also hanging around the former’s neck.
The vampiress hissed and shielded her eyes from the ward. “You can have him for all I care!”
“I was going to say that if you lay a finger on him, your bottom will answer to my dagger and a bucket of holy water,” Ingrid replied in a half-scathing, half-amused tone. Amidst the explosive giggles that permeated the room, her gaze softened a little.
“I never got the chance to thank you for helping us,” she said once the room had gone quiet. “I know you’re not welcome here as far as the public is concerned, but neither of us have any grudge now that we know you weren’t in league with Osmond.”
Evangeline tossed her hair, scowling, and then retched upon remembering the events that morning. “I’m just glad to see him go. He tasted like spoiled onion juice (and mind, it will take me decades to get the taste out), and I don’t think my bite could’ve turned him for some reason. Is there something about him I don’t know of?”
“You’d be surprised, actually,” Ingrid replied, laughing. “So… I guess this is goodbye. And thank you, again.”
Evangeline shrugged. “I was fully expecting you to say ‘have a nice afterlife’ or something equally rude. But I’m flattered that even after all of this, you don’t carry a grudge.”
“Why would we?” asked Jacob. “You were being paraded around by the REAL monster, after all. And if it helps, if some of us go out on trips outside the kingdom, we can always see you again. Assuming we know where you are, anyway.”
And then Erland did something completely unexpected: he hugged her.
“Take care of yourself,” he replied. “And I suppose ‘have a nice afterlife’ applies, too.”
That was when Ingrid decided to have a little fun with the two of them, feigning an absolutely scandalized expression. “Are you… cheating on me?!”
Erland and Evangeline withdrew from their hug with mortified expressions, both frantically shouting, “NO DON’T SAY THAT IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE WE SWEAR—”
Ingrid and Jacob looked at each other, grinning. And then both of them exploded with helpless laughter, with Erland joining a second later.
Evangeline, for her part, was quick to leap out the window out of sheer embarrassment, wings spreading just before she hit the shingles. She turned and, trying not to look flustered, cleared her throat.
“Until next time, mortals!” she cried in a seductive, teasing purr. “MWAHAHAHAHA~!”
The royal couple waved goodbye, and she waved back, before she soared cackling into the summer’s night sky.
“Well?” Erland asked to Ingrid as they gazed out the window. “How are you feeling?”
His fiancee looked up at the shimmering stars and the gleaming moon, and smiled broadly before giving him a peck on the cheek. “Never been better,” she replied.
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