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Seat of the Lindworm Prince
by Skaea
Contains: */M and */F Hotbuns with some tickling. Mildly NSFW; contains nudity.
Contains: */M and */F Hotbuns with some tickling. Mildly NSFW; contains nudity.
Word Count: 7,348
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Chapter 3: Sitting a Spell
Prince Erland was in trouble.
The elder royal son’s day had gone relatively smoothly aside from two painful seats. The first was on his own crown (again), after forgetting where he’d placed it while sitting down for lunch with his mother; he’d had to have a silk pillow bought in so he could coherently share his concerns with her over pork liver pâté and pickled cucumbers. The second came later in the afternoon, in the form of a box of carpenter’s tacks that he’d landed in; he’d been passing by some renovations being made to the guest bedroom when he’d accidentally slipped on the newly waxed floor before falling backwards onto the box. Not for the first time that day, his screams could be heard from halfway across the castle, and he could almost picture his evil brother cackling in sick amusement. Too bad for the Lindworm Prince that the evening had some even more unpleasant experiences in store for him.
Destin had taken a good twenty minutes to remove the tacks from the prince’s punctured posterior, and the ex-dragon had, to his own surprise and confusion, healed over completely after another hour of overseeing the royal duties of the day, particularly repairing the older, more dilapidated sections of the palace (seeing as his brother refused to get his hands dirty in tending to this issue). The evening was drawing to a close, and after Osmond retired to his room for the day to do his daily preening, there was a limited window of opportunity to track down the documents that contained all records of his spending habits over the past year.
The problem with sneaking into the accounting room was that Erland and his aide had to pass through the royal armory to get there. The room itself wasn’t heavily guarded, but knowing Erland, there was no chance of being able to break in without one or two more mishaps to round off his day. The front door to the armory was locked, after all, in case of ventures exactly like this one.
By sheer foul luck, the klutzy prince had tried climbing onto the railing of the second floor balcony of the armory, hoping to find a hidden switch leading to one of the secret passageways stashed throughout the castle, only to lose his balance. Now he was holding onto the balcony railing, his knees pressed against his chest with his bare feet trying to snag the edge of the floor (having removed his boots so he wouldn’t make too much noise while walking), which was now pressed against his chest. This left his luckless rump hanging over the suits of armor lining the main hall and in particular a very long and very sharp jousting lance being held straight up by one of them. Its pointed tip was mere inches from his tender derriere, and the gap was going to be closed very soon.
“Destin, help!” Erland cried from the railing. “I’m slippiiiiinnnggg!!”
“Sire! Oh no!” Destin rushed over to try and grab his superior, having had no luck with finding any secret chambers either. The prince’s cries of distress were enough to send him rocketing up to greet him, but the problem was that he was on the second floor, and even if he was below him he wasn’t strong enough to push the suit of armor aside, let alone catch Erland in his arms without getting crushed.
Still, within moments, the dark-skinned majordomo had grabbed Erland’s hands and was now trying to pull him up, but the prince, being taller and heavier, was unable to budge an inch.
“I can’t hold on much longer!” Destin cried, bracing his feet against the railing. “Your fingers are too wet!”
“You think?!” Erland yelled in horror and annoyance, his sweaty fingers already beginning to slide from his companion’s grip.
“Sire, grab onto th-AAH!” The prince’s hands slipped out of Destin’s own, the butler landing hard on his rear end upon the hard floor. Erland, however, was not nearly as lucky.
“OH NOOOOO!!”
SHNNK!
“YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUCCCHHH!!!!!”
The good news was that his fall wasn’t very far, so he didn’t gain enough velocity to end up being run clean through by the jousting lance. The bad news was that he still landed on it with enough force for the needle-sharp implement to pierce through his trousers and undershorts and sink deep into the intimate flesh between his bottom cheeks. And the even worse news was that his added weight had just unbalanced the armor suit, causing it to topple forward and carry him with it eight feet to the floor below.
With a terrified scream and a thundering CRASH, Erland collided with another suit of armor which also collapsed, burying him in dozens of pounds of iron plating and scale mail. His sobs and whimpers of pain could nonetheless be heard even from the bottom of the pile.
Destin hurried back down the stairs and made his way over to the heap of metal, immediately getting to work freeing the hapless prince. “Are you alright, sire?!” he said in concern.
“I… I-I’ve had b-better days,” a muffled voice from under the armor pile moaned back.
It took Destin ten minutes to extricate the very bruised and literally butthurt prince from under all that armor, not to mention pulling him free of the lance that had speared him. The majordomo shivered at the thought of what would’ve happened had the weapon went in just an inch to the front; most stories of dragon-slayers involved the deathblow from the knight’s spear going down the throat, but at least one involved a spiked boot up the other end.
“We’ve wasted valuable time,” Erland muttered angrily. “And we’ve got no better idea about how to get into the treasury than we did before I got a stick up my ass, both figuratively and literally.” He shuddered at the memory, even though the wound in his rear had sealed up quite a bit faster than usual. The exhausted royal leaned against the nearest wall, only to find the brick he was pressing his hand against give way just a little.
There was a rumbling and creaking of old wooden gears and cogs, and then part of the wall below slid away to reveal an opening about half his height. The switch had been behind the suit of armor the prince had hit on the way down from his painful perch on the jousting lance.
“Well, would you look at that, sire,” said Destin. “For once, your two left feet did something right.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Erland replied with a snarky roll of his blue-gray eyes. “I’m pretty sure Osmond won’t be happy when he sees all this. But that’s less important than the real objective. Destin, I want you to close the door behind me, and if he comes, keep him occupied with the whole mess my poor hapless ass just created.”
“But sire, Osmond will—”
Erland had swung his lower legs into the passageway; his feet found no floor, but his bare toes did manage to snag on the cold iron rung of a ladder leading down to an underground tunnel. “I’m well aware of the racket I made. But if Osmond sees all this toppled armor, he won’t be able to think of anything else except putting it back.”
“Oh. So, you’re implying that I should keep him distracted?”
“If he comes, that is.”
“But sire, I’ll be spanked to high heaven! I don’t want to raise his ire again—”
“I know, I know. But whatever you do, keep his focus away from me. If he finds out what I intend to do, he’ll have my head!”
Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he stretched it out and bit down on the middle before tying it around the back of his head.
“Sire, what are you doing?” asked Destin, still unable to believe that he hadn’t the spine to question this part of the plan.
Erland pointed at his still very sore behind, put his hands around his mouth to mime shouting, and then put an index finger to his lips. His consort understood immediately.
“Good luck, sire… I think we both need it at this point,” said Destin.
The prince nodded, and then he slipped down the ladder and into the tunnel, leaving the majordomo to feel around for a second button. It was only a matter of time before the panel slid closed once more, trapping Erland in total darkness.
The passageway was lower than he expected, and somewhat grimier. He wished he could complain about his clothes being ruined, seeing as there was already a massive hole in his pants from when he’d gotten himself speared on the lance from earlier, but he had a task at hand which was far more important. Still, this was the third set of trousers he’d gone through that day and now his shirt was about to get dirty, too. Ingrid was going to kill him.
His hands found several inscriptions carved into the walls, no doubt by people who’d used the place before; at certain intersections, they indicated which way to go, and specifically he sought the ones reading “Accounting Room” or “Treasury”. Erland was somewhat dismayed at having to take the long way around to get past the locked ingress, but if Osmond saw even a single one of his fingerprints on the knob of the polished golden front door, he’d completely lose his shit and surely have a half-dozen lances rammed up his brother’s—
A sudden, tiny noise behind him interrupted his thoughts, making him jump so badly that he nearly bonked his head on the roof of the passageway. The movement dislodged some slimy God-knows-what which dripped down from its perch on the ceiling and into his shirt collar. He squirmed uncomfortably, knowing that more of this was to come as he pressed on; a very long hot bath was definitely in order after this.
“???” Erland grimaced at the feeling of gunge on his fingertips as he felt the walls around the next fork in the tunnel, finding a passage to the left indicating where he should go. However, he also felt several other letters below that which he couldn’t make out, thanks to the disgusting ooze covering some of them; the only ones he could clearly trace were “BE WA F R TS”.
“…” He knew that whatever this message actually said, it had to be important. But he wasn’t quite sure what it actually read, only managing to guess “be”, “way”, and an immature plural word related to a kind of bodily odor. He doubted that helped very much, but it didn’t matter. Slipping into the passageway, he crept forth, only vaguely aware of the faint scurrying noises behind him.
After what seemed like forever, he finally detected the sensation of metal upon his fingers, and after raising his hand up to feel a little further, a thrill of excitement washed over him as he realized that the ladder leading up to the treasury was right there in front of him! Now if only he could make it up there before—
“?!”
Crouched on his hands and knees, toes bent forward and soles stretched tight, Erland suddenly realized how very vulnerable he was. Something small and fluffy was scratching at his taut right arch with its tiny little claws and tickling the skin with little bristles almost like hair strands. No, God no, not now! he thought desperately. He was glad to have gagged himself beforehand, because the sensation was too much for him not to burst out laughing. The little unknown creature nuzzled into the spot where is arch met his heel with a pointed, whiskered snout, and he yelped and whined through his gagged lips, pounding his fist against the grimy floor.
A second creature started climbing up his other foot at that point, adding to the tickly torment. The feeling of those tiny claws stroking him oh so lightly was worse than Ingrid’s fingers could ever manage, but he had to remain still to avoid hurting himself! He desperately tried to find the ladder with his fingers, determined to start making the final climb into the treasury room.
A few more minutes of ticklish torture later, the first of the creatures managed to scurry up and onto his heel, its claws finding purchase in his trousers. He couldn’t kick it away for fear of making a sudden movement that could startle whatever was lurking behind him, so he was powerless to stop it scrambling up his leg and onto his outward-sticking right buttock. And he certainly could do nothing but scream through the cloth gag when it decided to investigate the tender morsel it was clinging to with a set of very sharp incisor teeth.
“!!!!!!!!”
The jolt of pain sent Erland scrambling for the ladder in a wild panic. The movement and splashing of slime was enough for an entire swarm of rats to start surging forth after the first two, the starving rodents realizing that there was a highly edible pair of buttocks just ahead of them. He only managed to grab the first rung before the rats descended upon his rear en masse, sinking their viciously sharp teeth and claws into his tender flesh and shredding away the backs of his trousers and undershorts like sheets of wet paper.
“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Screaming through his gag, he managed to drag himself up onto the ladder but not without over a dozen of the little fiends hanging onto him by their teeth alone, gnawing and scratching like a pack of rabid wolves the size of human hands.
The climb up to the exit flap was agony. It felt like hours reaching up rung after rung, trying to shake off the ravenous little creatures all the while, but in reality it was only a few minutes before he managed to flip open the wooden panel leading into the archives. With some effort he managed to push the hinged panel up with his left hand and slide himself through. Desperate to find purchase on the floor of the treasury, the fingers of his right hand blindly found something they definitely shouldn’t have, and with a piercing SNAP, the mousetrap closed on them with painful force.
“!!?!?!!!” The spark of pain caused him to let go of the panel with his left hand, and the decorated wooden board swung down, forcing him to duck to avoid a massive headache. Instead it smacked painfully into the top of his rear, surprising most of the rats which let go of him and dropped back down the tunnel. A few were even caught on the swinging panel itself, and he couldn’t tell whether the ripping noise that followed was from his undershorts or something more concerning, but he yelled in pain regardless as he slid his way to freedom.
Sprawled on the floor for the moment, he used his free hand to rip away one final rat before tossing it back down the tunnel, which his left foot still propped open; it landed on his toes and gave him one last painful bite before escaping. The spark of pain caused him to surge forth, the panel closing on his foot, making him whine in protest and struggle to pull it free. “!!!”
Gingerly prying the mousetrap from his fingers, Erland managed to stand up and take a blind step forward.
SNAP!
“!!!!!!!!”
The toes of his other foot had managed to find another mousetrap, and with a muffled yell of pain he lost his balance and toppled over, directly onto a dozen more of the horrid little instruments lying in wait upon the floor.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
“!!!!!!! ?!?!? !!!!?!?!? !!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Good Lord, how bad must our rat problem be to require so many of these little fuckers being set up in here?! Erland thought in overwhelming anguish as he pulled the last of the traps off his ear. Perhaps that stray cat his butt had ran afoul of the other day could have a place in this castle if he could find it again. Maybe others like it, too, if there really were that many rodents down there…
So it was that a very dirty, messy-haired prince, with a mangled, nearly nude, and thoroughly tasted pair of buttocks, found himself in the treasury room. The vault containing all of the royal wealth was off to the side, but what concerned him more was the shelves full of important documents, sorted by date with specific sub-compartments in each bin pertaining to each person the transactions referred to. He just had to find the ones pertaining to one particular individual…
“WHAT IS ALL THIS?! WHAT KIND OF FUCKING SHIT-JOB HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?!”
Oh no. Erland gasped through his cloth gag, realizing that there was someone out there who was not happy to see the state of the hall just outside the door.
“Sire, please! I was polishing them and I jostled—”
Osmond’s voice reverberated past the door. “I don’t care! You — You complete insolent faggot! Do you realize how long it took for me to have those arranged?! I’ll have you thrown to the dungeon right this fucking instant!”
“No! Have mercy, sire! I’ve done everything for you and you depend on me to offer advice! What’ll you do if you imprison me?! Please, I’m begging you, just let me fix this! Just this once!”
“YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE HERE, YOU FAG! YOU—” He uttered a word that made Erland cringe from head to throbbing toes. “I should hang you, or throw you to the forest beasts! But since Mother wouldn’t let me, I’ll just do this instead! Now, BEND OVER!”
“No, pleeeease!”
Erland looked around frantically, and saw the documents labeled with Osmond’s name. Wiping the grime off his fingers onto his shirt, he hoped his brother wouldn’t enter the room and notice the prints he was leaving on the floor, before grabbing as many of them as he could, day by day. He was very thankful that they were within reach of him without requiring something to stand on, for with his emotions running this high he’d more than likely take another nasty fall if he tried.
SMACK!
“YEEEEEEEEE!”
WHAP!
“GYAAAAAAH!”
SLAP!
“OWWOOOOOO!”
This can’t be happening! Erland thought frantically. Each of Destin’s wails of distress sent a jolt of agony through the elder prince which hurt infinitely worse than a thousand sets of rat incisors tearing his bottom apart. Terror and rage began to boil the Lindworm Prince’s heart, as though something enormous and scaly was clawing his way out of it and roaring like a hellish abomination from the bowels of the Earth. He could feel his skin crawling, his breath becoming quite hot, his saliva starting to taste of toxic contempt…
An ominous SNKT from right next to him made him look down at the hand clutching the documents he’d filched.
“!!!!”
At first his right hand looked like it was covered in a red glove, but he hadn’t donned any this evening. Instead of fabric, his skin was sheathed in crimson scales like on the claw of a lizard or bird, and huge wicked talons had extended from his fingertips with enough force to puncture several neat holes cleanly through all of the gathered papers. It was no longer a person’s hand holding the damaged papers, but that of a—
“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Wild panic overtook Erland at that moment, and he grabbed his wrist and shook his hand in a bid to prevent the transformation from spreading. In the process he nearly lost his balance, stumbling backward and tripping over his own feet. He turned his head just in time to see a potted cactus in the corner of the room, three feet tall, covered in wicked thorns, and no doubt imported by his brother from some foreign land he didn’t know even existed until recently. Just his luck that his butt, already tender and wounded to the point of bleeding, was being pulled towards it by the force of gravity.
CRNCH-POINK-POINK-POINK-POINK-POINK-POINK-POINK-POINK-POINK!
“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Erland struggled to pull himself free from the awful plant, silently cursing his brother’s extravagance and having a lot more certainty regarding what he was expecting once he got the documents repaired and analyzed. It was a miracle that he hadn’t given himself away, for Osmond was still abusing Destin’s own bottom if the majordomo’s continuous screams were any indicator. But then a third voice joined them which made everyone go completely silent.
“ENOUGH!!!”
Erland had never heard this voice before. It was female, but old, gravelly, and almost like the creaking of a dead tree in the wind. He didn’t need to pick the speaker’s tone apart however to tell that she was very, very angry. For a moment, the only sound that came through the door was the creaking and clanking of several suits of armor being replaced to their stands, exactly as they had stood before the chaos this evening.
“YOU!!!” Osmond yelled. “You dare come back to this kingdom? To my fucking palace?! I asked you to leave last year, and look what you’ve done!”
“I only came to see your mother,” replied the woman. “But when I heard all the noise you were making by abusing your servant, I couldn’t just stand by. Put Destin down, and return to your room immediately. I demand a word with you in private.”
“NO! You should have run, Oili. You should have stuck to that reeking fuckhole you call home in the woods. I will not tolerate your presence anymore, not after you tore our family apart!”
“I’ve done nothing but comply to the wishes of the people,” said the woman. “I never wanted trouble, and yet it has come regardless. I thought you’d stop this now that your brother is with the royal family as he should be. But now I see that you haven’t changed, and if anything, your hatred of the world around you, and your refusal to look into your own personal faults and failings, have only continued to fester! What in the name of all the forces of nature is wrong with you?!”
There was a thud of a body hitting the floor, then Osmond’s voice was shrill and almost hoarse with absolute rage. “Nothing is wrong with me except YOU!! GET OUT! GET OUT!! You have no goddamn business in this fucking kingdom anymore, you shit-stirring, YEAST-INFECTED CUNT!!!!”
The entire room fell completely silent. For one awful moment, there was a clang of a helmet hitting the floor, but that also concealed a second noise from the treasury.
SNKT. Now Erland’s other hand had sprouted claws. With a burst of sudden strength brought about by utmost rage, he pushed himself free of the cactus, heedless of the spines tearing away from the plant and remaining embedded in the flesh of his rear. He was ready to smash his way through the door of the treasury, lunge at his brother, and strangle him for insulting this person on such an astronomical scale. Possibly even rip him in half.
But then something washed over everyone in the entire castle, a wave of mortal dread radiating from the older female. It was enough to make even Erland stop in his tracks. As she replied, her voice began to echo ominously, as though calling upon an ancient group of vengeful spirits.
“I was here only to speak with the queen, without being directly involved in your self-righteous perceived war with the rest of the world. But now that I know that you have chosen to involve me in this mess as a collateral target, I’m sorry to say you have forced my hand. And in truth, I’m not surprised at all that you seem to have never heeded the old wisdom of never provoking the wrath of an arcane mage. Thought? Memory? You are needed here immediately.”
There was a whoosh of magical energy, followed by a rush of feathered wings, and a cawing of two ravens. And then three voices spoke at once, all radiating immense magical power.
“Insect sting and bramble thorn, tongue of flame and unicorn horn.
Let this fiend know mortal fear, and never rest his weary rear.
Arrow’s head and serpent’s jaws, lashing whip and eagle’s claws.
Harm to all has evil hatched, now harm from all will evil catch!”
The voices spoke several arcane words which also rhymed, and a hissing noise could be heard outside the room, a green fog seeping through the crack under the door. There was a great whoosh, and then Osmond let out a tremendous sneeze and broke down in a fit of coughing and hacking. Another minute of this passed, and then all was still.
“Is that… Is that the best you got, you walking sack of mold?!” Osmond grunted, before coughing again.
“Oh, but it is just the start.” Oili’s voice was tired and jaded, but also triumphant and full of anticipation. “Never underestimate the power of a witch’s curse, Your Majesty. For sooner or later, you will find it far more destructive to all you hold dear than a blade against your throat. Now leave.”
The younger prince sputtered wordlessly before uttering several more curse words, and then the sound of footsteps could be heard as he made a hasty exit.
“You can come out now, Prince Erland,” the witch said once Osmond was far beyond earshot.
“?!”
The door unlocked itself and swung open of its own accord, allowing the prince to stagger out into the hall, which was now in much better shape except for the green fog hanging close to the floor, thick with spores from some kind of fungus. Said fungus was in fact standing at the very center of the hall, a towering humanoid mushroom whose black-colored stem and mycelium “limbs” resembled a hunched over humanoid torso with a base like the roots of a tree in place of legs, and two tentacle-like arms tipped with green hands bearing feelers in place of fingers. A large leather satchel was looped by its strap around her left shoulder and the right of her waist. Beneath Oili’s cap, shaped like a pointed hat with a round brim sporting a ring of large green gills on its underside, she had a green-colored head with a gnarled, warty face like that of a grotesque old woman with a crooked long nose, beady black eyes, and a toothless wrinkled “mouth” (actually a breathing spiracle) that emitted a sigh of resignation. Her twin ravens were perched upon her shoulders, one on each side, and her right limb carried a wooden staff, a cluster of branches on its tip holding a ball of green light which in turn emitted similarly colored wisps of vapor.
Destin was leaning against the stand of one of the restored armor suits, his mouth and nose covered by one sleeve to avoid inhaling the spores and the hand of his other rubbing his still-searing bottom. He glanced at Erland and let out a whimper of relief mixed with concerned alarm, but Oili spoke first, her voice far friendlier and more weary than it had been a minute ago.
“It’s good to see you at last, sire.”
The still-gagged royal nodded, before motioning with his head towards the room behind him.
“Ah. I sensed you in the treasury room even though the door was locked, and guessed what you were up to. I assume you didn’t want to be caught taking the documents you were seeking?”
“…” He held up the ruined papers, disappointed to find that they were now in tatters.
“I’ll handle them, and repair them as well so you can look over them. In addition, I’ll ensure that once we retire to your private chambers for a pending conversation, the treasury will be exactly as you found it. No missing needles from the cactus, no trail of gunk leading back to the secret entrance, and not a mousetrap discharged or out of place. And yes, the doors to the treasury and the secret passageway you apparently used will be locked as well.”
Erland shivered at the memory of this very untoward evening.
“That’d be great, thanks,” said Destin. “I’m so glad I didn’t inhale any of those spores… I’d hate to see what they’d do to me. I think I’ve got pretty bad asthma…”
“Worry not. The spell only affects the one I was concentrating on, and to anyone else, my spores are allergenic at worst.”
“!!!!” Erland sneezed at that point, twin jets of fire shooting from his nostrils. He clutched his nose with his fingers, only to feel his claws digging into the skin of his face. “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“I’ll clear those out too. Just give me a few minutes, and then we can take you back to Ingrid.”
“?!”
“Yes, she’s back in the castle, too. It was a painful journey to reach me, but I’m glad she informed me of the state of the kingdom, or this hall would have seen a far worse situation than it just did. Now, kindly step aside. I need a clear work area to proceed.”
Erland nodded, and made sure to wipe his dirty bare feet on the expensive Persian rug on the floor before exiting the treasury.
**********
“She’s going to be here any moment, is she?” asked Erika.
“Oili is a little occupied with a few things around the castle right now,” Ingrid replied, having bought the queen into her and Erland’s room for some private chatter. “But knowing her, it shouldn’t take very long.”
Erika gazed out the window, idly stroking Sormr’s scaly back with her finger; the snake had curled up next to her on the foot of the royal couple’s king-sized bed. “She can’t come soon enough. I heard from one of the other zaltys that there was a scuffle down at the armory. I wonder who was involved…”
“I can take a guess regarding at least one of the perpetrators,” replied Ingrid.
The door opened a second later, and three people entered. The first was a black-robed, green-skinned mushroom witch, the second was the majordomo of the castle, and the third was almost unrecognizable.
“ERLAND!” Ingrid wanted to hug her lover, but then she saw the state of his clothes and instantly had second thoughts. “What happened to you?!”
The dirtied, messy, and extremely sore prince had finally had his cloth gag removed, and it was immediately noticeable that his hands were scarlet claws. “You will never believe the shit I had to go through tonight.”
“At least you’re okay—” She saw his expression and amended, “Well, mostly okay.”
Erland went over to his bed, snatched a pillow from it, and collapsed face-down on the floor, strategically placing the pillow under his face.
Erika gasped. “Son, your hands, th—”
“‘Salright, Mother.” Erland’s muffled voice came from the pillow. “I already know.”
Ingrid grabbed one of the bottles of soothing ointment Oili had given her from the bedside table, and immediately swooped down on her boyfriend to start de-pricking his behind.
“Oh God, Oili told us about this…” said Sormr, glancing down at the couple below the window. “Did you witness the argument in the armory this evening?”
Destin shuddered in stark terror, and Oili gave the enchanted snake a very dirty look.
“Oh. Oh dear Lord, no. No no no…” Ingrid paused in horrified realization, her voice was several octaves higher than normal, before resuming the task of plucking the thorns from her lover’s lower cheeks with increased fervor.
“YEOW! I-If it helps,” said Erland, “I got the documents. OWIE! Though they — AAAAARGH! — didn’t exactly escape unscathed. OUCH!”
“Not until he gave them to me,” added Oili, reaching into her satchel and pulling out the papers.
Erika gently took them from the witch, meaning to check if they were really intact. Then she started reading, her expression bearing consternation. And then horror washed over her.
“All this time,” she said, her voice blank and quiet, “I thought my younger son was responsible enough to manage the kingdom. But look at this… He’s driven up taxes and lowered minimum wages for the lower class to the point where those living in the outskirts of the realm can’t even afford to eat!”
“He’s been trying to accumulate the funds to build an army and overtake our neighboring kingdoms,” said Destin. “He’s willing to resort to any means for getting the money, even—”
“Extortion!” Erika looked outraged upon reading another one of the papers. “These demands for money from all of these businesses were made with the threat of planting health and safety policy violations within their facilities. My son, my own son, is draining my own kingdom like a parasite, and he thinks I can do nothing about it!”
“How long ago did this start?” asked Ingrid.
“Since last year,” replied Ingrid. “I can tell almost the exact date when it started. That was near the start of last summer, when—”
“NGAAAAH!” Erland let out a small scream as a particularly large thorn was removed from a mere millimeter from his tight, tender asshole. “Oh God… When he found out that I existed!”
“Not long after that fated encounter,” said Oili, “Osmond came to my shop in the uptown square, asking for any and every means I had for capturing and killing a dragon. I refused, knowing exactly where that conversation was going. The day after, I arrived at the shop to find three tons of raw sewage strewn all over the floor, no doubt planted there by some of Osmond’s lackeys, and the royal guard was at my door an hour later with orders to shut it down due to unsanitary conditions.”
“Was this before or after I finally came clean to Osmond?” asked the queen.
Sormr reared her head, her lipless jaws agape in shock. “You what?!”
“The day after he first met Erland, Osmond came to me, demanding an explanation. He threatened to overthrow me and take the throne if I didn’t tell him the truth, and I had no choice. It was a conversation I never wanted to have, but I should’ve had it far, far sooner. When the ritual that allowed me to sire him and his brother was brought up, Osmond flew into an unprecedented rage, destroyed all of my valuables, and stormed out in a fit, claiming that Oili would pay for what she had done. It wasn’t long after that her shop was closed down.”
Ingrid was about to yank the last of the thorns from Erland’s backside when she stopped in her tracks. That was when Erland got up so fast that he almost knocked her over, before using the pads of his thumb and index finger to grab the final thorn and pull it out himself.
“YOWCH! Ooh! So… Let me get this straight, Mother. You lied to Osmond? So the reason he believed he never had siblings until he met me was because you told him that he was an only child for two entire decades?!”
“I had to keep him from trying to find you, because I thought he’d be disgraced for leaving the kingdom daily to be with his dragon brother, never mind what the kingdom would do to you if they knew. Your father insisted—”
Erland felt floored, anger and despair crashing down on him. “That wasn’t the only mistake you and Father made, Mother. You shouldn’t have sent me away in the first place! If you’d known that I was still human inside even if I wasn’t outwardly, if you’d let me interact with other people since childhood as though I was a normal person, and if you’d let me spend my whole life along my brother’s side, I could’ve gotten along much better with everyone, and Osmond would never have become the complete shithole he is today! Mother, I never thought I’d tell you this, and you can spank me until I scream for mercy for saying it for all I care, but… I am ashamed to be a part of this family. Ashamed, and utterly fucking disappointed.”
In any other circumstance, Erika would have indeed spanked him for talking back to her, and with such foul language no less, but upon seeing those vicious claws, she realized what would happen if she provoked him further. So instead she hung her head, tears pooling in the corners of her eyelids.
“I’m so, so sorry, all of you. This was all my fault. Oili was right… I really should have peeled both onions before eating them.”
The room fell silent. Oili and her ravens exchanged helpless glances among each other.
“What’s done is done, though,” said Memory. “All of us messed up in some way or another. Some of us lied, some of us raged, and most of us did nothing.”
“We can’t let our grief over these mistakes fester, though, not while Osmond is on the loose,” replied Thought. “The best we can do now is pick up the pieces.”
Erland looked away from his mother, starting to tear up himself. “I… I’m going to need a hot bath. I must calm down before my body turns completely scaly. And… And I’ll need to be alone with Ingrid for the rest of the night. Without anyone else.” With this, he headed into the walk-in bathroom off of his bedroom to remove his clothes.
“Very well,” said Oili. “I must talk with Erika regardless, in private. We must begin planning for what to do from this point forward, now that Osmond’s downfall is underway.”
Ingrid stood up, a stunned expression on her face, while Sormr reared up a little higher to stare at Oili as well.
“You mean you actually did something?” the princess asked in shock.
“Osmond brought it upon himself. I tried to get him to stop his fit of petulant rage, only for him to turn on me. The curse was an irrational response, but—”
“Curse?!” Sormr hissed in even greater surprise. “What exactly do you mean by ‘curse’?”
“Both you people and Osmond will find out before long, I can assure you.” Oili smiled a little. “But you wanted me to help, Ingrid, and now you’ve got your wish. Now it’s just a matter of helping Erland play his own part.”
“What part? What’s he got to do with—” asked Destin.
“I’m turning back into a dragon,” replied a very shirtless Erland, peeking out of the bathroom door, a taloned hand gripping the frame. “I know it shouldn’t be a good thing, but at this point in time, making the most of it may very well be the only way for me to put my brother in his place. I just don’t know whether I’ll be able to ever be human again afterward, though.”
“You can, actually.” Oili’s mouth spiracle was curled up in a smile. “The transformation can go both ways, and as with the son of the dwarven king Hreidmar, it is decided by your emotions. Should you be forced to resort to instinct and power, be it for guarding or for striking down that which provoked you, a dragon you will be. But through love, kindness, and tranquility, you will retain a civil form as the kingdom so desires.” She turned to Ingrid with a sly smile and added, “I think you can help with that, hmm?”
Ingrid yelped and then nodded fervently, her face turning beet-red. “Perhaps I shall join you in your bath, sweetie? I have a secret bath ingredient Oili gave me today that would make it an absolute treat for the two of us.”
Erland’s eyes widened, and he would swear he could feel the scales on his arms receding. “That… That’d be great, actually.”
Erika was silent the whole time, her expression downcast as she wiped the tears from her face. “Should I leave, then? Like Oili said, I must speak with her…”
Erland looked at her, feeling guilty for his earlier outburst. “I’m not sure, actually. I’m still angry that you made a poor decision, but I’m also scared and confused deep down. This past year has thrown far more at me than the twenty before, and my emotions have been a whirlwind. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, though, and I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s alright. I’m sorry too. But I’m more than willing to make it up to you as any parent should, so if you need any help in setting things right, I’ll provide it in any way I can.”
“Same here,” added Destin. “What I’d give to see Osmond unseated after tonight…”
“Don’t forget me,” said Sormr. “I’d rather not have to live with someone who despises snakes.”
“I’d say I would help as well,” added Oili, “but I’ve said and done enough, as you will see.”
Her ravens were cawing in a manner akin to two giggling children. “Too bad we won’t be around to see the look on Osmond’s face once it starts,” said Thought.
“Yeah, it’d be absolutely priceless!” added Memory.
Ingrid exchanged beaming looks with Erland, and curtsied to the others. “On behalf of us both, thank you so much,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d kindly appreciate a bit of privacy…”
“Oh, right! Uh… I have some ironing to do in the kitchen if you need me,” Destin said hastily, before exiting the room.
“I suppose we really should return to your chamber as well, Your Highness,” said Oili, while Erika and Sormr nodded in agreement, the queen scooping up the coiled serpent in her arms.
With this, everyone except the Lindworm Prince and his bride vacated the room, with Oili magically shutting the door behind them to ensure that whatever happened in the couple’s bathtub stayed in their bathtub… though she did wonder where she’d put that extract of guinea pepper she’d bought with her to give to the palace chef. Huh, Ingrid must’ve taken it by accident. Oh well, she could always use a portal to snag a spare from her cottage later. It was a shame she wouldn’t be around to see the result of this little mix-up, she thought with a quiet cackle to herself.
The witch would swear she’d hear a deafening “YEEEEOWWWWWW!” from Erland and frantic apologies from Ingrid before the doors to their room vanished behind her.
**********
The rays of dawn shone through the bedroom window the next morning, bathing the naked, exhausted prince and princess in their gently warming light even as they lovingly cradled each other beneath the bedcovers. It would be just a typical morning at the Wyrmwood palace, if it weren’t for the fact that they were awoken quite a bit earlier than usual.
And not by the tolling bell that signaled the start of the day, either. The numerous vents and tunnels throughout the castle, meant for air conditioning among other purposes, could carry sounds across a significant distance, meaning that they could hear sounds coming from halfway across the building. So when they were jolted awake by the nearly simultaneous occurrences of multiple snapping and crashing sounds, several “EEEEEEYOOOOUUUUCH!”-es in quick succession, and at least a dozen obscenities interspersed with the words “TRAPS”, “SPINES”, and “GLUTEUS”, the royal lovers guessed very quickly that the commotion had come from the treasury chamber. Apparently, Prince Osmond had decided to pay the room an early-morning visit to check if anyone had messed with it, and in his drowsiness he’d forgotten that thanks to Oili’s magic, it was exactly as he’d left it — mousetraps, cactus, and all.
Erland and Ingrid exchanged grins that a fox who’d just raided a chicken coop would’ve been proud of. Now that Osmond had gotten his first taste of misfortune since the lindworm had toasted his derriere over a year ago, the real fun could finally begin.
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