Seat of the Lindworm Prince — Chapter 1 (Hotbuns, TK)

Seat of the Lindworm Prince

by Skaea

Contains: */M and */F Hotbuns with some tickling. Mildly NSFW; contains nudity.

Word Count: 9,602

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Chapter 1: A Royal Headache

By all accounts, it should’ve been a happily ever after for Prince Erland of Wyrmwood. He had lived for twenty years as a monstrous maligned reptile, alone and miserable, with only Shepherd Colden’s daughter and the various reptiles of the woods to keep him company. Not a life he’d wanted to live, not while he could have so many wonderful people to talk to as a member of the royal court. It had been a year since his childhood friend (and now girlfriend) Ingrid had freed him from the curse he had been born with, her faith and care ensuring that it was dispelled in exactly the same manner as the spore hag Oili had described. Queen Erika had been grateful to Ingrid and, seeing the love the two of them shared now, offered Ingrid a place among the aristocracy alongside Erland. The residents of the kingdom had, of course, welcomed them with open arms, and for ages to come there would surely be ballads and tapestries depicting the story of the two of them and how the power of love had saved them both.

There were, however, two very small problems with this fairy-tale ending. The first was that Erland, having slithered on two legs and a serpentine body throughout his entire life, could never get used to his new human body. Sure, he was tall, nearly six feet in height, with short, curly reddish brown hair and patient grayish blue eyes, and his figure was muscled in all the right places and certainly worthy of the popular image of a dashing Prince Charming, but he had to admit that he vastly preferred a reptilian tail to two left feet. Every attempt at looking good for the public ended in painful humiliation, to the point where landing on something he shouldn’t have was almost a daily occurrence. He was glad to have Ingrid in his life, for she loved him all the same, and was always there to care for and console the luckless prince whenever things inevitably went south.

The second and more worrying problem, one which Erland found far less tolerable, was his brother. Prince Osmond was possibly even more handsome than Erland, with blonde hair and eyes like shimmering sapphires, a slightly shorter stature than Erland with just as athletic a build, and what may well have been the firmest, ripest buttocks in the entire kingdom. Most of the kingdom viewed him as a proud and noble icon of regal authority, but the knights of the royal guard knew otherwise. Not only was he highly demanding and bossy to them, forcing them to do even the most menial tasks around the garrison without getting his hands dirty or offering sympathy, but he also bullied them mercilessly. And then of course there had been that fateful first encounter with the Lindworm Prince, which pretty much tainted Erland’s impression of him forevermore, making it clear that he thought of his own older brother as being beneath him. Setting fire to the seat of his pants had been so, so satisfying, but now that he was a fellow aristocrat, he couldn’t hurt him anymore, not without being disgraced and possibly imprisoned. Osmond had after all jailed multiple people before for merely looking at him funny. And so Erland had to keep his mouth shut and fantasize about putting an imported cactus or a collection of thumbtacks on the cushion of his brother’s throne when he wasn’t looking.

So much for happily ever after…

The bells of dawn echoed throughout the castle one morning, eliciting a groan from Erland as he pressed a pillow over the ear of his which wasn’t against the mattress. He had spent the previous night in total bliss with his fiancée, cuddling and frisking with her under the covers, but this morning had left him completely drained. Until the first sunbeams coming through the window warmed him up he refused to get out of bed, preferring to snooze face-down in his comfy four-poster until quite late in the morning. Ingrid, by contrast, was already getting dressed, having gotten up as soon as the morning bell tolled, and she wasn’t alone in this respect. Striding over to the window, she was about to open it and let the breeze in when she noticed a scaly legless creature coiled up on the sill.

“Oh, good morning, Sormr!”

The brown and black snake looked up at her with lidless orange eyes, before speaking in a high-pitched female voice like a young girl. “Do you mind, Madam? I'm in the middle of my daily sunbath!”

“Right next to the bedroom window, I must add,” Ingrid replied, smiling in spite of herself. “I do believe you’re warm enough to lend a minute of your time, and you can finish after. But Erland needs to be up in time for the meeting today, and we don’t have time to waste.”

Sormr thought about it, and then leg out a hissing sigh. “Alright, alright. Sheesh, can't a zaltys get any beauty sleep around here?”

Carefully picking up the four-foot-long reptile, Ingrid proceeded to pull the covers up from the prince’s bare feet, before slipping Sormr inside and letting the fabric cover her. Sormr was left to inspect her objective, her forked tongue flickering and tasting his scent. He had feet as exquisite as the rest of him, a decent pair of size tens with perfectly smooth creamy soles and high curved arches. His bubble-like toes wiggled idly, their perfectly manicured nails barely visible to his surprise guest. No calluses or foot odor… perfect.

Most people would panic at the mere sight of a snake, and in truth the reverse also applied. But the zaltys had been magically bred by the fae in a land to the east of the kingdom, and were thus a very friendly species of snake, non-venomous and capable of speech. This one in particular was one of several kept by the royal family, and had lived in the palace her entire life, so she knew everything there was to know about the building and its residents. Erland was in no danger of being bitten, for the only things Sormr was threatening to were the hen’s eggs she received every few days or so, in exchange for monitoring things around the castle. And she certainly didn’t intend to hurt him, either, what with him being her superior.

The prince felt something like a scaly length of very thick rope wrap around his ankles, twitching and groaning under the covers. Sormr nudged the toes of his left foot with her snout, before extending her forked tongue and proceeding to flicker it upon Erland’s tender arch.

Erland squirmed and giggled in his bedsheets, wiggling his feet. He had lived with tough scales for so long that he had never experienced light touches until this past year, and his feet were ridiculously sensitive. Ridiculously ticklish, in fact. Ingrid had found this out not long after she had freed him from his spell, and she and Sormr were the only two people who knew of this. If Osmond found out, Erland was quite sure he wouldn’t last a week. He did enjoy the sensation when either Ingrid or Sormr was the tickler, but his brother would be mercilessly sadistic in that regard. He already did have enough reasons to embarrass him, after all.

Sormr licked up and down the prince’s left sole while using the tip of her tail to tickle his right, causing him to dig his fingers into his mattress and pillow, giggling uncontrollably. The Ingrid joined in a moment later, pulling off the covers over his feet and setting her fingers upon his wiggling toes, and the reaction was instantaneous.

“S-sohormr, plehehease stooohohahahap! I-Ingrid?! IngrAAAAAAHAHAH OH GAHAHAD, NOOOHOHOHOO!!”

“You awake now, Sire?” the snake asked, letting Ingrid assault his arches and heels.

“YEHEHES! I’M UP, I’M UP! GYAHAHAH STAHAHAHAP, PLEEEHEHEEASE!!”

“Good morning, my prince~” Ingrid teased, before planting a ticklish kiss on each of his arches. “Slept well?”

“Just five more minutes, sweetie, I can handle it…” he replied, until Sormr’s tail wiggling just under his toes very quickly made him change his mind.

“Unlike me, sire, you don’t need to warm yourself up every morning,” the serpent chided to the giggling prince. “Besides, I do believe you’re required to attend a meeting this morning with the royal cabinet, and it wouldn’t do to be late now, would it?”

Erland rolled over in his bed and sat bolt upright with a startled yell. “Oh shit, the taxation policy debate! Thanks for the reminder, I must g—whoop!”

In his haste he had forgotten that Sormr hadn’t let go of his ankles, and as a result he failed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, and instead slipped off of it and landed butt-first and with no small amount of force upon the bedroom floor.

WHMP-POINK!

“YIIIAAAOOOWWWWW! Ooooh! So that’s where my lapel pin went last night…”

“Sorry, sire! I forgot your feet were still tied,” the shocked zaltys stammered in a clearly apologetic tone, gently loosening her grip and slithering off. “If you don’t mind, I do have to return to my warming session. I’ll catch up with you later, alright?”

“As long as you stay out of brooms’ reach of the maids, that’d be good,” replied Ingrid, laughing as she helped her boyfriend to his feet. “I know everyone knows your kind are friendly, but you know how the ladies are with snakes…”

“Relax, your Highness, I know the secret passageways enough to not get myself in trouble.” Sormr climbed back up onto the windowsill and coiled up once again. “It’s Osmond I’m worried about. Thank goodness he doesn’t show up in your room very often…”

As if her words had some kind of supernatural power, a blond prince in full regalia (blue tunic, navy blue jacket with a white neck kerchief, a leather belt with a sheathed sword on the left side, and black breeches with gray knee-high boots) entered at that exact moment. “Brother, what are you doing?! It’s half-past nine and you’re already la—SNAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!!!” He drew his sword, a mix of panic and murderous rage in his face. “Back away from my brother, you vile pest!”

“I spoke too soon, huh?” Sormr pressed her tail tip between her eyes, watching both Ingrid and Erland turn Prince Osmond around and push him out of the room.

“We’ve already been over this, Your Majesty!” Ingrid sounded rightly offended as she closed the bedroom door behind her. “Sormr is not a pest, and any attempt to hurt one of the family zaltys would count as a capital offense! I’ve already got my sweetheart handled in any case, so may I kindly request for you to return to the meeting and tell the others he’s getting ready, please?”

Osmond glared at her, clearly outraged. “I’m the one in charge, and not y—” That was when he noticed Erland, who was still in nothing but his white undershorts, complete with a regular pattern of red circular spots and a little golden snake inlaid with rubies coiled in a spiral upon his left buttock.

The blond prince’s face broke out into an ear-to-ear grin, before he burst out into a fit of raucous laughter. “FFFFBWHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Oh Lord above, wait until I tell the other cabinet officials about this! They’ll have another nickname to add to the long list… Pokey Pants! I like the sound of that!”

Erland buried his face in his hands. “Owwwch! Good gods, Osmond… Just stop talking and let me get dressed in peace, will you please? Ow ow ow… Or shall I tell the rest of the court about the time I set your pants on fire?”

Osmond immediately stopped laughing, while Ingrid on the other hand started doing the same. There was a moment of beautiful giggling from the raven-haired maiden before Osmond turned and left the two of them be. Ingrid decided not to tell her lover that he had flashed his brother a very rude gesture before doing so.

“Ignore him, sweetie.” She was clearly reassuring him, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’m sure that like other bullies he’ll crack under truly serious pressure.” Reaching down towards his rear, she very gently fondled and caressed his buttocks, her fingers moving towards the lapel pin. His eyes closed in pleasure, and then nearly popped out of his head when she yanked out the pin, which had been buried up to the hilt in his tender pink derriere.

“EEEEEEYOOOOOOOUUUUCCCHHH!”

“Sorry! Though to be fair, who wouldn’t crack eventually under serious pain?”

“Not helping, Ingrid…”

Ten minutes later, Prince Erland and his lover arrived at the cabinet chamber. The lindworm-turned-royal wore a red long-sleeved tunic with a prominent white neck ruffle almost like the frills of his dragon form, with a dark red short coat over it bearing large golden shoulder cuffs, as well as tight white breech pants and knee-high black leather boots; the pin that had skewered his now-bandaged rear had been cleaned (along with the wound itself) and was now proudly displayed upon the left lapel of his coat, and his late father’s ruby-encrusted golden spare crown sat upon his head like a set of draconic horns. His fiancee was wearing a contrasting green and brown dress over her white linen blouse, both embroidered with silver patterning on the edges, and a silver tiara with emeralds inlaid was sitting upon her hair, which was tied in a neat bun.

Erland made sure to check his chair before sitting upon his throne at the head of the room — for all he knew, his brother would have gladly snuck a thumbtack onto the cushion before they had arrived. Luckily there was no threat to his already stinging bottom… for now. So the two of them took their seats, apologizing for their belated entry, and signalled for the summons to continue as normal. The elder prince could not help but notice at least one of the dozen balding sixty-something officials seated around the massive world-map-bedecked table pointing at him and whispering to his neighbor; his cheeks felt hot at the realization that he could accurately guess what the private chatter was about, but he wisely decided to ignore the side-eyes and stifled laughter.

And so the meeting proceeded. He had to admit that these discussions were the least interesting part of the day even for someone who’d spent twenty years simply existing without a purpose and with barely a hint of an identity, but then again, talking of tax laws and trade policy addendums was not anyone’s idea of entertainment. Still, he knew he had to listen and learn, for he was still noticeably behind on the workings of his own domain and if he was to succeed his late father, he’d have to catch up on every issue and solution he possibly could.

At least the stained glass window installed on the other side of the room allowed the sun’s rays to warm him while he was here. His only nitpick with it was that it displayed the royal coat of arms, a crimson shield decorated with a tree that had an eagle perched in its boughs and a green snake coiled around its roots. If he had his way he’d gladly have it placed behind the thrones instead, with the window he was facing instead showing a two-legged dragon setting his brother’s butt ablaze. Oh well. Sådan er livet.

Seated next to Erland’s side of the throne podium was his advisor, Destin. The dark-skinned young man, descended from immigrants from a southern continent and nearing thirty years of age, was far more competent than the clumsy prince and they both knew it, but he had lived under Osmond for so long that he felt reluctant to speak up at all whenever attending to his superior. He too was aware of what the younger prince was becoming, but having seen others who’d tried to disagree with him being taken away, he figured it was safer to say nothing for his own protection. Erland’s arrival had changed everything for him however and as soon as he knew he could trust the former lindworm, he had told him everything about said lindworm’s brother. Now, Destin was Erland’s advisor instead of Osmond’s, and although he still felt it prudent to remain silent in the latter’s presence, it was at least a start.

Erland was glad to have Destin on hand when in need of a second opinion, and it was at the request of his confidant that he had claimed the farthest throne to his right upon the podium, with Ingrid to his left. To Ingrid’s other side, Osmond looked far shiftier in his own seat than the other two royals, something which even Destin couldn’t help but notice. Erland was also aware of that fact and although he wasn’t about to let that distract him, as the meeting droned on and on to the point where even Ingrid began looking tired, a devilish idea started forming in the elder prince’s handsome head. He’d have to wait until exactly the right time to pull it off, though…

“And for the final discussion topic of the day,” said the official who had silently teased Erland at the moment of his arrival, “military spending. We have received word in recent weeks that relations with our neighboring kingdoms have become increasingly tense. Misuse of income on increased fortifications and potential militant campaigns aimed at our neighbors have begun increasing in number since last year.”

Erland and Ingrid both looked at Osmond, their eyes narrowed.

“What?” asked Osmond.

“If you have anything to note about this matter,” said Erland, having noticed the way his brother had perked up like he had just drank an entire mug’s worth of extra-strong coffee, “now is the time to speak up.”

Osmond sputtered incoherently for a few seconds, and then sank back into his chair. “It’s nothing important! Just shut up and listen to the rest of the meeting!”

“Who gave you the right to ask that of us, anyway?” replied Ingrid. “We’ve noticed you weren’t paying attention yourself—”

“Don’t you dare contradict me!” cried Osmond, making to stand up, but Destin stood up too.

“You’re both right, your Majesties. I know none of us like these sessions, but they are important. Especially since you two are going to succeed the throne.”

Erland couldn’t help but congratulate Destin for following his assertiveness lessons to a tee — don’t be a bully, but don’t be afraid to make your voice clear if you have to either. And he couldn’t help but smirk at the look on Osmond’s face, too.

“Us? Who said there was ever an us?” asked the younger prince.

Erland mock-gasped, though he was fully aware of what this meant. “Oh, so that means you’re giving the throne to me, then?”

Osmond’s eyes widened until they were as round as dinner plates, and then he stood up angrily and turned on the others. “Excuse me?! While I spent my entire life training and living in this precious kingdom, you did nothing but skulk around and eat anyone who crossed you like the cold-blooded monstrosity you once were!”

Everyone gasped, and then the whole room went silent.

Ingrid and Destin both looked helplessly at Erland, and then the princess’s eyes widened too. “Uh, sweetie? Your eyes are green,” she whispered.

Heedless of her comment, Erland stood up too, glaring at Osmond and heedless of his slightly oversized crown beginning to slip off his head. “For your information, brother, I only acted in self-defense in response to certain abusers, and have never hurt an innocent sapient life. Even as an outcast, I genuinely cared for my kingdom and its people, which is more than I can say for someone like you.”

“Sire, please sit down—!” cried Destin, but it was too late to stop the carriage-wreck once it began.

Osmond drew his sword from its scabbard, pointing it at Erland’s chest. “I have not chosen to throw you in the palace dungeon for two reasons, Pokey Pants. The first is that Mother would have my head mounted on her bedroom wall, and the second is that I find your stupidity mildly amusing.”

Erland felt a roaring fire well up within his chest, and he would swear he felt the skin on his back begin to itch. But he knew he had to look proper for Ingrid’s sake, so he took a deep breath, standing as tall and dignified as he could manage, and responded thusly:

“The feeling is mutual, Hot Seat.”

Once again, everyone gasped in total shock. Destin backed away from the podium, looking rightly terrified.

Osmond’s eyes widened to their maximum limit, and then he lunged at his elder sibling with a yell of fury. But before Erland could respond, Ingrid finally got off her seat, and moved so quickly that her boyfriend couldn’t help but wonder if her dress was really as heavy as she had claimed.

“That’s enough.” Her voice was just barely trembling, making it clear that she was suppressing a rage of her own for Erland’s sake as she stood between the brothers, having drawn a dagger of her own which she’d stashed in her dress and pointed it at his face.

“Oh, what now?!” cried Osmond, throwing his free hand up. “I’m guessing you hate me as much as he does?” He pointed his sword at his brother behind her.

“I do not hate you, Osmond, but I do pity you very much, and I’ve just become fed up with this entire debacle. I humbly request for the current item on our agenda to be postponed until tomorrow morning, so that we can have a civil discussion about our border issues without my fiancé or his brother being complete idiots.”

The difference between the reactions of the two brothers couldn’t be more stark. Erland bowed his head guiltily, the knowledge that he had upset his lover visibly weighing on him. Osmond, meanwhile, began sputtering wordlessly again, a look of pure rage on his face, before he raised his sword in front of twelve panicking cabinet members.

The blade stabbed into the floor a few inches from her foot, causing her to yelp and stagger back, nearly hitting Erland which made him instinctively jump backwards as well. His crown slipped off his head and clattered to the floor beneath the podium, but to his own detriment in a few moments’ time, he ignored it.

Ingrid sheathed her knife with a huff and descended the few steps down from the podium, not even bothering to look at Osmond. “I’m leaving this room right now, and if Prince Erland wishes to continue the meeting, he will have to do it without me.”

“Oh no no, it’s fine,” Erland replied frantically, taking her hand before she could escape his reach. “I apologize for my behavior in front of you, and I hereby decree this meeting adjourned lest things escalate between us three. We can pick this up tomorrow as per your request, Ingrid — hopefully without Prince Osmond complaining.”

Still standing upon the podium, and failing to notice her expression of mortal panic, he bowed to kiss her hand, and in so doing made a huge mistake. For this left his shapely bottom open to attack and in full view of his enraged brother.

Ignoring the cries of the panicking officials, Osmond pulled his sword from the floor and thrust it forward with an insincere “oops”, smiling once he saw its needle-sharp tip meet the very center of Erland’s right buttock.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” Erland cried out in sudden pain, losing his balance and falling past a shocked Ingrid, noticing his crown lying pointy side up on the floor an instant too late.

WHOAA-CRNCH-BMP-POINK!

“YYYYYYIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!”

Leaping back to his feet and clutching his impaled backside, Erland desperately tried to pull his crown off of him, Osmond grinning triumphantly above him. The look on Ingrid’s face wiped the smile off of the younger prince, and she pointed two of her fingers towards her eyes and then his before she and Destin led the agonized ex-lindworm out of the room.

It was no surprise at all that every single official in the room and a thoroughly fuming Osmond promptly decided to concur with Ingrid regarding the status of the meeting.

“GET IT OFF, GET IT OFFFFF!” Erland wailed once they were out of the cabinet chamber and in an empty room some distance away. While Ingrid hugged him tight in a bid to console him, Destin took hold of the crown and yanked it hard several times, only eliciting further screams of pain from the hapless prince.

“That does it!” Erland cried once he managed to regain coherence, dismayed at his crown failing to come free from his hapless butt. “I’m never allowing Osmond into the cabinet room ever again!”

“If only it were so easy, sire,” Destin replied, before making one final tug and hearing not just the inevitable “YEEEEEEOOOOWWWWWW!”, but also an unpleasant SHRRRRIP that could only mean one thing.

Erland sighed in humiliation — the seat of his trousers had been torn off along with the crown, leaving his punctured undershorts in full view of his advisor. It was lucky that Destin was used to the sight by now, but the prince’s face felt boiling hot all the same.

“You saw how petty my brother was behaving back in the cabinet room, though!” Erland shook his head angrily, heedless of the tiny trickles of blood from his buttocks now staining his breeches. “How can he be expected to take Father’s place if he only cares about making himself look good, everyone else be damned?!”

“I understand your concern, sire,” replied Destin. “But you have to understand that Osmond has been with the kingdom for far longer than you have. It’s not your fault, of course, but the people believe it to be common knowledge that Osmond is the next in line for the throne.”

“Erland, you have to take the high road no matter how shitty your brother is to you,” added Ingrid. “And I know he is, unbelievably so. But if you openly respond to his contempt, it would only look very unbecoming for all of us.”

“But why isn’t anyone else doing anything about Osmond? Is it because he’s in a position of such power that they’re too scared to try?” Erland’s eyes flashed acid-green for another brief instant, causing Ingrid to turn from annoyed to outright frightened. She would swear his pupils had also become vertical slits in that split second.

“I was too afraid of him lashing out at me to say anything at all,” Destin said sadly. “I know it was selfish, and I apologize for it, but I couldn’t afford to provoke him into making things worse than they already were. The entire kingdom thought of Osmond as being next in line for Wyrmwood’s throne for two whole decades, and they still need the time to adjust to your presence. Publicly, we’ve only known of you for so long as the dragon who prowled the nearby forest, and many of us are hesitant to accept you as a future king.”

The royal couple thought about this for a moment before Ingrid’s face lit up in the way Erland loved so much. “Perhaps it would be good for us to visit various places around the kingdom?” she said to the two males. “That way the people can see how wonderful my sweetheart truly is.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

In spite of the embarrassment of the morning’s events, Erland was over the moon the moment her lips met his face. “That… that actually sounds like a wonderful idea, Ingrid, after I change into my casual clothes at least. It’d help to get to know my people without having to wear that blasted crown, on either my head or the other end.”

All three of them promptly doubled over laughing.

**********

It was an hour later that the royal couple exited the castle, having bid goodbye to Destin for the day and dressed themselves in attire more befitting the rest of the townspeople. Erland’s recently skewered rear had been once again cleaned and bandaged, and he was now dressed in a simple cotton blouse and leather trousers along with the boots he’d worn to the meeting, which he had thoroughly washed to remove the sweat and grime they accumulated so frequently, for Ingrid loved playing with his soft and sensitive soles each night, and he’d learned the hard way after their first few nights together that nothing irritated her more than foot odor that could be scented from the next room. He had bathed himself in general as well although he was quite sure that he’d end up drenched in his own sweat by the day’s end, such was the summer’s heat. Ingrid’s austere sleeveless linen dress, meanwhile, was a light gray in color, and her hair was tied in a ponytail for simplicity.

The day went better than expected for Erland, if by better one meant to say bearing witness to fewer accidents than normal. By noon he’d slipped on a carelessly discarded piece of rotten fruit while visiting one of the slum districts, tumbled into a trash bin, and found out the hard way that his posterior had inadvertently trapped an unhappy stray cat inside. Having come away from the incident with a few dozen painful scratches, which Ingrid treated before giving him a backup set of legwear she’d bought with her just in case, he mentally added “set up at least one official kingdom-wide street-cleaning day” and “arrange for the construction of more shelters for both stray animals and homeless people” to his list of items to bring up at the next cabinet meeting. It was barely an hour later that he stepped in a grease puddle that had been accidentally spilled by a nearby food stall, slid bum-first into the fence of a poultry coop, and ended up having his behind receive too many painful jabs to count from the beaks of six or seven angry chickens which had not appreciated the intrusion upon their personal space. He’d diffused the ensuing argument with the vendor by agreeing to pay off the damages to the fence once he was freed. The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, with the couple talking to and buying from various townspeople (who all had horror stories to tell of Osmond’s regular visits, incidentally) until around four in the afternoon, when Erland randomly tripped backwards over his own feet and bumped into the back end of someone’s donkey, the startled equine reacting by sending him flying across the street with a hoofprint branded upon each butt cheek. He ended up falling headfirst into another trash bin, though there were thankfully no live animals inside this time, just a lot of garbage that had been dutifully swept off the road.

“I’ve noticed a small detail,” said Ingrid once she’d helped him out of the bin. “Most of the places around here aren’t in good condition to say the least, except for several which have apparently witnessed your brother’s visits on a regular basis. Those ones are virtually spotless. It’s like the residents want everything in absolutely perfect condition.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Erland muttered, still picking up the trash that had been spilled onto the road and putting it back in the bin.

“It seems that not all of the aristocrats we share the palace with have had the presence of mind to reach out to the rest of the kingdom,” Ingrid mused, rubbing her lover’s still-stinging bottom. “Either that or a certain someone has been keeping them from doing so. It’s like he doesn’t want them to realize that things have been worsening around the rest of the realm as of late.”

“They could be too afraid of him to protest.” Erland dusted himself off, having put the last of the garbage back where it belonged. “That or they simply don’t care. We alone have been able to speak up against Osmond because neither of us have lived under his thumb for twenty years. All the same, I don’t know if even I can avoid his vindictiveness for much longer even if we’re related.”

Ingrid thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps we could visit my father. I don’t know if he’ll be able to help, but he could at least provide advice.”

“But you fought with him on and off for several months after he caught us together in the woods, and he told me not to see you anymore at that time. I don’t trust him.”

“Things were different then.” She sounded a little defensive, but he could tell she understood his sentiment. “He strives to do what’s best for our family, even if it is indeed wrong at times. Father is not a prince, but he knows a thing or two about family issues. It’d still be worth seeing him, if only so we can talk with him in private.”

Erland still doubted that the visit would be of any use, but in the end he agreed if only so she could see her father for the first time in a long while. It was another half-hour of uneventful (and thankfully painless) walking before they reached the outskirts of the kingdom and found the little farmhouse just outside its borders. Once the two of them found themselves at the door, Ingrid took it upon herself to knock. But there was no reply.

“Huh. Is Father out to market? He usually answers immediately when he’s in the house.” She looked a little disappointed, wondering if they should wait until he returned and spend the night at her former home. She knocked again, and this time someone did answer, just not the person they were expecting.

Feminine arms wrapped around the two of them and dragged them into the house with a squeal of delight. Erland’s breath was nearly squeezed out of him before he managed to regain clarity and recognized who it was. That face looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t pin down why.

“Ingrid, my darling! You came, and you bought Prince Erland, too!” cried Turid. “I was paying Colden a visit, but I didn’t know you were planning one as well!”

“Hello, Mother,” Ingrid replied, returning the embrace. “We were actually planning to speak to Father as well, but we’re not sure where he went. Is he out to market?”

“Oh nono, that was earlier this afternoon. He borrowed our donkey to help transport the groceries home!”

Erland felt the extremely faint hoofprints on his backside begin to tingle.

“Where is he now?” he asked. “Is he home as well?”

“He’s outside, actually, doing farm business as usual. I’ll get h—”

“No no, I’ll do it.” Erland wrenched himself free and made for the back door. “This is a matter concerning the royal family and he needs to hear it from me first.”

Turid looked confused for a second, but then she tilted her head in curiosity and made her way towards him. “Is it your brother? Is he acting up again like he always does?”

Erland stopped right in the middle of turning the door handle. “How did you guess?”

“I’m your mother’s handmaiden, silly,” she replied, giving him a playful smack on the rear. “I’ve attended to the queen for so long that I can read her younger — and for a time only — son like a book, and I’ve been able to do the same with you since you returned.”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to spank the eldest son of the Queen of Wyrmwood, though.” Erland felt awful for saying it, but he had to in order to preserve the last of his dignity; he’d let out a yelp of pain at the gesture, his very sore bottom stinging from it a lot more than usual. “As the Lindworm Prince, I’ll let you off with a warning, but just… just don’t do it again, alright?”

She shrank back in slight alarm, her hands behind her back. “My apologies, Your Highness! I was trying to be playful, seeing as you’re so nice to our people…”

“At least exercise some basic human decency, Mother,” replied Ingrid, having known her mother’s habit of unwittingly barging into people’s personal space for years now. “And in any case we don’t have all day, because Osmond’s behavior seems to be growing worse by the week. You should’ve been at the cabinet meeting this morning.”

“I heard. This is perhaps the only place where I can safely say that he’s behaving like a spoiled, bratty man-child who only cares about his own self-image.”

“Have you heard of any other incidents like that, though?” Ingrid asked, her eyes widening in curiosity. “Surely you’ve been around enough to know about those.”

“I’ve only personally witnessed a few, but gossip travels very quickly around the castle,” replied Turid, letting Erland open the door and slip out into the pastures beyond. “Why, I still remember that one time at the flea market last month…”

Erland rubbed his buttocks in slight annoyance as he closed the door behind him. The knowledge that his castle also housed his mother-in-law was going to haunt him for years to come, but at least he could live with her rather than a certain closer relation.

Turning to face the house, he backed away slowly to admire it, his hands behind his head to let the breeze attempt to dry his shirt. It had been several months since he’d last seen the house, since he’d been so busy as of late, and he was comforted to find that it looked familiar even after this long of an absence, partly because he’d sighted it in the distance for much, much longer.

“I’ll never forget this place,” he said to himself. “Even if it feels so small nowadays compared t—!”

His first mistake was that he wasn’t watching where he was going. His second mistake was that he hadn’t checked to see if the balding fifty-something countryman behind him was wielding anything pointy. And his third mistake was that he was so distracted by his own reminiscence that he hadn’t been aware of the fact that he was now well within the minimum safe distance of the older man until he felt the iron-hard, needle-sharp tines of the pitchfork he’d been using to gather hay for his flock sinking into his punished princely posterior.

There was a moment of dead silence, the eyes of both men extremely wide and their bodies perfectly still, before the inevitable happened.

“YYYYYYYIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!”

Erland leapt three feet into the air and five feet forward before landing hard on the grass, curling up and clutching his agonized rear. Shepherd Colden was looming over him in an instant, trying to help him up with a panicked expression. The instrument of the prince’s pain had been stabbed into the pile of hay nearby, its deadly points no longer a danger to those present.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Colden wailed. “I didn’t notice you were there!”

“No no, the fault was mine! I should’ve noticed where I was going… Ow ow owww!” Erland convulsed a little on the ground, still amazed that the offending implement hadn’t drawn blood.

“Are you alright? You’re not injured or anyth—”

“I’m fine. Just a little saddle-sore…” Erland managed to roll over and sit up, and the shepherd realized who he’d accidentally jabbed with a horrified expression.

“Oh God, Prince Erland! I nearly impaled the elder prince of Wyrmwood! I can’t apologize eno—”

He wasn’t able to finish before he was suddenly caught in the prince’s embrace.

“It’s good to see you again, Shepherd Colden,” said Erland, unable to bring himself to be angry at the older man for trying to push him away from the love of his life. “I know we’ve had our differences before, but I must admit that I’ve missed your care, so let’s not fuss over them now. Your daughter’s here as well, talking with Turid in the house.”

“Ingrid?! I’ll come straight away!” Colden straightened up, but Erland (who’d managed to get to his feet when hugging him) put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hold up a second, Colden. I know you want to see my fiancée for the first time in weeks, but we also have more important matters to discuss than a family reunion, even if it is indeed long overdue.”

The shepherd looked at him with a dismayed expression. “What did your brother do this time?!”

Erland’s jaw dropped. “H-how did you—”

“I have to listen to my wife complain to me every night when she comes back from the castle, particularly about Prince Osmond. It’s unpleasant, sure, but at least her vitriol isn’t directed at me. She’s just upset with your brother’s constant spite but can’t do a thing about it lest she get thrown into the dungeon!”

Erland pressed his palm to his forehead. “Believe me, I know more than a few people in the same boat as her. Come on, let’s talk this up with your family. They ought to know everything if what I believe is coming, well, does come.”

Colden looked apprehensive, but agreed all the same. The two of them entered the house to find Turid consoling her and Colden’s daughter in her arms, the princess sobbing and wiping her face with a tissue.

“Oh, Ingrid, my dear sweet daughter…” The shepherd rushed over and hugged the other two. “What brought you here after so long?”

“I just wanted to see you again,” Ingrid replied. “I’ve been getting so many headaches up at the castle and I figured I could spend some time with you two. I assume Erland found you?”

Colden hung his head. “Well, actually, I found him. Or at least my pitchfork did. My deepest apologies — it was an accident, I swear!”

The four of them exchanged tense looks, but then Turid snickered, and then all four of them burst out laughing.

The mood became far more jovial for the next hour as they shared a simple country dinner together consisting of mutton, cheese, fresh-baked bread, and milk straight from Colden’s dairy sheep. Throughout the meal, Ingrid’s father entertained the family with a number of lurid tales from his homestead, the most memorable being his account of how the wolves that prowled the nearby forest sometimes liked putting on the discarded skins of sheep that had been slaughtered for food, and then infiltrated the shepherds’ flocks for an easy meal. Erland had a strange feeling that his mutton joint tasted more like dog meat than usual.

The pleasant conversation continued for a short while after dinner was over, until Turid asked, “So, Prince Erland, do you have stories of your own to tell?”

Slightly sleepy from a full stomach, he looked up from his empty plate. “Hmm?”

“Ingrid and I both know of that meeting this morning, but Colden doesn’t. Could you kindly fill him in on the situation?”

The uplifted mood that Erland had enjoyed throughout the dinner went down like a roc with clipped wings in less than a second. He sat up straighter with a murderous expression, glaring down at his utensils and wanting so badly to stab the tablecloth.

“That meeting ended in shambles thanks to my idiot brother,” he snarled. “He wasn’t paying attention at all throughout the entire session, and when the topic of unnecessary military spending was bought up, he angrily denied the accusation that he was responsible! And when I tried to call him out on his inappropriate behavior, he slandered me in front of the entire cabinet!”

Colden covered his mouth with both hands, and if he noticed that the prince’s eyes had turned green for a split second, he didn’t mention it. “The nerve of him… What kind of person does that? And to his own brother, mind?!”

“I have Ingrid to thank for the situation not turning violent,” Erland continued. “And even then, our bickering ended with him making me sit on my own discarded crown! Does he have any idea how painful it is to remove it?!”

Turid let out a small gasp. “You mean this wasn’t the first time that happened to you?”

“It wasn’t, but that’s not important. I won’t sugarcoat it: Osmond is an asshole. An unreasonable, insensitive, and completely irresponsible asshole! This isn’t an isolated incident, either, and I’ve had to put up with this shit for over a year now. On top of this, he refuses to acknowledge me as part of the royal family unless it’s to get out of trouble with Mother.”

Colden shook his head. “Truly a shame that he’s stupidly rich and never gets off with anything more than a slap on the wrist, huh?”

“No kidding. Osmond has been strutting around the wealthier districts of Wyrmwood like he owns the place even though my very existence and elder status means he technically doesn’t! The worst part is that he thinks he can get away with his actions because he never suspected that he even had any siblings for twenty years. And then he waltzed into my neck of the woods to insult me!”

“Sounds like he’s plenty entertaining at parties,” Turid huffed.

There was an uneasy silence before Colden spoke up again. “This was my doing, wasn’t it? I pushed you away from my daughter because I feared you’d hurt her. And now look what it’s gotten all of us into.”

“Don’t you dare say that, honey,” replied Turid. “The prince would’ve been found out regardless of whether or not he met you and Ingrid. He never did go far from the kingdom even when it wasn’t aware that he even existed. I can think of only one person who still refuses to accept that he has the right to live among us now as an equal, and not as an outcast.”

Erland sighed and looked out the window towards the dipping sun. “Looking back, it was probably my own fault as well. I wanted so badly to have people in my life to turn to when I felt sad or lonely or angry, and I foolishly clung to your daughter ever since she found me all those years ago. I know it’s not supposed to be this way, but it’s been common knowledge to everyone since time immemorial that dragons aren’t meant to be so close to people.”

“You weren’t born to dragon parents, though,” replied Ingrid, putting her hand on his. “Your birth wasn’t natural, and now there’s no need to worry about it now that you’re where you’re meant to be. If anything, it’s Osmond who shouldn’t belong in this kingdom, and it’s only because Queen Erika’s love for him is blind to his faults that he’s still around at all.”

“So what’s stopping you two from publicizing these faults?” asked Turid. “You’ve mentioned potential charges against Prince Osmond of extortion, misuse of kingdom capital, inability to handle criticism, and browbeating his subordinates, among other things. I’m sure there’s proof of such somewhere in the castle.”

Erland perked up at this remark. “You mean that’s a possibility?”

“Is there any realm, estate, or household in the world that doesn’t keep track of finances?” replied Colden. “I don’t know for certain if hard proof exists of unlawful economic activity around the palace, but looking for something like that could be a good place to start. Numbers don’t lie, and in the right hands they can be even more painful to a fallible-enough person than a pitchfork stuck in his rear.”

Everyone burst into laughter except Erland, who buried his face in his hands with his cheeks as red as the scales that used to cover his skin.

Ten minutes later, the young couple exited the front door, with Ingrid’s parents seeing them off. Ingrid hugged both of them before stepping outside, and Erland shook hands with Colden.

“I never did get to apologize for judging you so poorly all those years ago,” said the shepherd. “So I am truly, sincerely sorry for that mistake. Now I know that my daughter is in good hands — though knowing your brother, I can only hope that the same can soon be said for you.”

Erland smiled at him. “Consider your apology accepted, and we’ll find a way to deal with him, don’t you worry. And we’ll come again soon, promise!”

“And I’m sorry that we couldn’t help any further.” Turid looked somewhat rueful. “I wish this wasn’t the case, but nobody wants to give Prince Osmond any excuses.”

“You both have helped us plenty,” replied Ingrid. “If what you’re saying is true, he won’t be so high and mighty once the appropriate actions are taken.”

“I wanted to say that we’ll get started straight away,” said Erland. “But maybe give it until tomorrow. It’s getting late, and we need to be back at the castle before Mother gets worried.”

Ingrid’s parents nodded in understanding, and bade their goodbyes as the couple departed.

It was some twenty minutes of walking before Erland looked back at the sun setting over the tops of the forest trees, his heart sinking. “I’ve forgotten how close to nightfall it is,” he said with a sigh. “And it’s a long way away from the castle. I think my feet are getting sore…”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” asked Ingrid, looking a little dismayed. “What about the barghests, the vampires, or God forbid, the dragons?”

The look on Erland’s face made her shrink back in fright. “Sorry. Present company excluded, obviously.”

He couldn’t not forgive her, but that still didn’t lift his mood. “I just wish we had a quicker means of transportation. We took so long to reach the outskirts of the realm that I’ve lost track of how long it took for that to happen, to say nothing about what the route back would look like after dark…”

“Out of the way!”

He looked around to rebuke his girlfriend, but not only had she said nothing, but she’d stepped aside with a look of absolute terror. He wasn’t sure what was going on until he heard the thundering of hoofbeats behind him. There was no time to get away, and for one horrible moment, he was sure he’d be trampled underfoot, ending his reign before it could even begin.

Instead, he felt something long, narrow, and very, very sharp thrust itself right between his buttocks, just barely missing a certain lower orifice, with enough speed and force to pierce through both his breeches and underwear, not to mention sweep him off his feet.

The creature that had not only came straight at his behind but speared it dead center as well let out a loud horse-like whinny, hooking his derriere with its long, spear-like horn and tossing its head back in a wide arc. 

“EEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Erland soared screaming into the air, the pain in his rump finally reaching his head, before landing bottom-first in a spiny, sticky blackberry bush on the side of the road some thirty feet behind it.

“AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

His high-pitched shriek of anguish was loud enough to be heard over the tumult of galloping as a whole stable’s worth of horses stampeded past him, unaware that they would’ve trampled him underhoof if the horned creature hadn’t tossed him out of harm’s way. Over the din he could hear Ingrid yelling for the beast at the front to stop, and to his surprise the entire herd slowed down until they ground to a halt, their hooves cutting into the soil of the road.

Managing to find the strength to push himself up and out of the awful stickerbrush, the prince couldn’t stop himself wincing at the feeling of several dozen thorns being embedded through his legwear and sinking into the flesh of his ass. Hobbling over to the front of the herd, he finally managed to get a good look at the culprit that had skewered said ass mere seconds before.

The creature looked outwardly like a mare with a coat of purest white and a mane of shining silver. However, she had cloven golden hooves like those of a deer, a long silver-tufted tail like an ox or a lion, a goat-like beard on her chin, and a golden spiraling horn as long as his arm jutting out of her forehead. Despite his horror at having been nearly impaled, he couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the guilty party. The unicorn regarded him with one argentous eye, and then turned to toss her head at him with an irritated snort, the tip of her horn slashing at the air just inches in front of him.

“Whoa there, Atgeir! Whoa whoa, steady girl! Steadyyyyy!”

The two royals realized at that point that the unicorn had a bejeweled bridle and saddle like a palace horse, and mounted upon her was a black-haired girl in riding clothing, pulling back on her steed’s reins in a bid to keep her from charging at the prince a second time.

Erland recognized her at once — it was Jorunn, one of the stablehands from the palace grounds. She was sixteen years old, and already very good with hoofed animals, and had once managed to tame a rampaging unicorn that had been causing trouble on the outskirts of the realm. The prince had just learned the hard way that a unicorn’s horn wasn’t just there to look pretty, and in fact these majestic creatures were so fierce and unruly that only a virgin maiden could tame one, for their horns could not pierce flesh that hadn’t bore witness to the birds and the bees as it were.

“Oh goodness!” The girl let out a gasp of fright at the sight of who her mount had just tossed aside. “Please forgive me, Your Highness—”

“Ow owwww… You’re alright, Jorun,” replied Erland, trying to pull one of the thorns from his backside. “I didn’t step aside in time. Yeowww! Ahh, that feels better…” He managed to pull one of them free, feeling a spark of pain in the process.

“Do you need a ride home, sire?” asked Jorunn. “I could have you and your fiancée ride on one of the palace horses. I was taking them along with Atgeir here for a ride out in the country. They need the exercise almost daily, and Atgeir isn’t exactly comfortable with the nobles…”

Both royals felt their hearts sink at the exact same moment, and they had the identical feeling that they knew where Jorunn was going with this conversation.

“You too, huh?” asked Ingrid.

Jorun snorted in disgust. “That insolent blond hack thinks he can get away with sneaking into the stables at night and yanking strands from Atgeir’s mane! And he uses them to embroider his cushions, too, just to insult us further!”

The unicorn shook her head as though shooing away flies, emitting an irritated snort of agreement.

“Look, we can talk about this on the way back to the palace,” said Erland. “You’re just what we needed this evening. Thank you, thank you so much— YEOWWW!” He’d bowed to her, only to feel the thorns digging a little deeper into his buttocks. He stood up with an agonized grimace and said, “Come on then, Ingrid. I’m in no state to walk, anyway.”

“You read my mind,” she replied.

As the herd continued on their way, Erland was draped over the saddle of one of the black horses close to the front, with Ingrid sitting behind him and ropes tying him around its belly so he wouldn’t fall off. Of course, this meant he couldn’t escape having his bottom de-pricked by his girlfriend, leaving him to sulk in silence and a misery induced by more than just the thorns.

“I was afraid too, you know,” said Ingrid, after pulling out another thorn with the obligatory “YEOWCH” from her companion. “Before I freed you, I was a simple farm girl with no real responsibility. My mother’s occupation was nothing of importance. I worried that I wasn’t good enough for the kingdom, or for my family for that matter, because of who I used to be.”

“Oww!” Erland wiggled his still-spiked bottom impotently as another thorn was removed. “So what’s your point, then?”

“You should’ve chosen your words more carefully, sweetie,” she replied, tugging out another thorn and ignoring the pained yelp that followed. “But now that I’ve been living with the royal family for over a year, they don’t see me as an outsider. They welcome my compassion and empathy, and they tell me that they depend on my streetwise wit and social skills that I earned from years venturing out on the streets of the country and the kingdom.”

He said nothing, except for another yell when she pulled out another thorn.

“I’m sure the kingdom will come to think the same way of you, too,” said Ingrid. “Once they become fully aware of just how great and open the heart beating within you truly is, they will never again judge you for having once had scales.”

Even though Prince Erland felt like his ass was on fire, he couldn’t help himself smiling. And in between the “OW”s, “OUCH”es, and “YEOW”s of having the thorns pulled out of him, he continued smiling all the way back to the castle.