A modern fairy-tale by Andrew "Aethan" French

PRINCE VICTOR

DRAGON: PAINTER, PACIFIST & HUGE REPTILE

PRINCESS MIRABELLE

SASHA the GYPSY-BOY

THE LADY-IN-WAITING

Once Upon a Time...

...(for, really, don't all the best  stories begin thus?) there was a beautiful and prosperous kingdom called  Ardellion. This Kingdom was ruled, as such kingdoms often are, by a wise old  King. Now this king, who was a fox named Aegis, had a son named Victor, and  Victor was, naturally, a very handsome and charming foxen prince. He had red fur  that gleamed like flame, green eyes that shone like emeralds, a bushy tail that  waved like a banner when he was happy, a smile that could heat even the drafty  throne room with its love and warmth, and a laugh like a million silver bells  all peeling at once on a holiday. Aegis loved his son, very much, but, as Victor  grew to manhood, Aegis worried, because, while he handsome and kindly, and very  good at charming all the princesses at the royal balls, he showed absolutely no  signs of being at all interested in the princesses ....

One day, after a particularly successful royal ball, (at which Victor had, as  always, charmed all the princesses and, as always, showed no signs of swearing  his undying love to any of them, no matter how many glass slippers they dropped  in his path) Aegis called his son in for a little heart to heart.

"Victor," said Aegis (for it was, after all, his name), "I'm getting a little  worried about you."

Victor smiled his most warm and dazzling smile. "Why, Father," he exclaimed,  "what cause should you have for worrying about me?"

Aegis tried to broach the subject gently. "I'm...uh...not getting any  younger, you know? How will you fare when you are king?"

Victor laughed his silver-bell laugh. "Oh, father. I'm handsome, noble,  charming, a skilled tactician in battle, a master swordsman, a born diplomat,  and have been studying how you rule for years. I'll be a fine king, I think.  And, anyway, the Court Physician said you were as healthy as a mule. I'm sure  it'll be sometime before I have to be king."

Aegis sighed. "Okay, fine; I'll be blunt. Its about the princesses."

Victor's face fell. "Oh, them."

"Yes, them. What's wrong with them?"

Victor shrugged. "Nothing's wrong with them, per se, but...they just  don't...interest me, very much." He smiled. "I don't have to have a princess,  after all. Its not like there's a law or anything."

"But without a princess, you'll never have a queen. And without a queen,  you'll never have heirs! And without heirs...well..." The king frowned. "Without  heirs, there'll be no more kingdom."

Victor shrugged. "Well...before I die, I'll found a great democracy or  something. Kingdoms are sort of passe, anyway."

Aegis was livid. "They are not! I ruled a kingdom, my father ruled a kingdom,  and, by Heaven, you'll rule a kingdom! And so will your heirs!" Aegis called for  his scribe and sent out a decree, which went, more or less, like this...

Hear ye, Hear ye!

BY PROCLAMATION of His Majesty, king Aegis I  of Ardellion, Prince Victor is seeking a bride. Candidates must be princesses or  better. References required. Evil fairies in disguise need not apply. Inquire at  the castle. Princesses must apply in person. No mail-ins or proxies.

When word came that the very handsome and charming Prince Victor of Ardellion  was seeking a bride, every princess from every kingdom, duchy, principality, and  municipality for thousands of miles around flocked to the Castle. Victor was  forced to watch entrant after entrant, listening as they explained why they  would make the perfect wife and queen for the rather unhappy young prince.

Aegis watched his son's face, and, because he loved Victor, he felt very bad.  He steeled himself, however, telling himself that he was saving Victor from an  unhealthy dislike of princesses and protecting his son from a lonely old age. At  the end of the day, Victor's head was swimming from all the names he was told,  and he retreated to the chambers of his mother, the queen.

Queen Marigold was still a beautiful vixen, despite her advancing years, and  a very affectionate mother, having loved Victor from the moment she first felt  him kicking inside her. So when she saw Victor, his banner-tail drooping, his  warm smiles turned to cold frowns, and the silver bells of his laughter  silenced, she felt as sad as he. "Oh, Victor, my dear kit," she said, hugging  him close. "Whatever is troubling you so?"

"Oh, Mother," he said, "Father is going to drive me out of the castle with  all this princess-nonsense." He sighed. "I don't want to marry a princess. I  don't want to marry anyone! I don't even like girls all that much...except for  you of course!"

"Of course," she said, stroking his headfur with a smile.

He sighed. "If it were only possible to just get out of the castle until this  princess-fever of his has died down a bit..."

He mother pondered. "Well, you could always run away, I suppose."

He wrinkled his nose, his whiskers waggling. "That's not very princely and  proper, is it? I mean, I know I'm supposed to want to marry a princess; I just  don't. But I want to do what's right. Is it possible to do what's right and  still do what you want?"

His mother smiled. "I believe I have just the thing. You could go on a  quest."

Victor considered this. "Does that count?"

"Oh, yes. Princes are supposed to go on quests, too, and, it so happens, this  particular quest involves a princess."

He sighed. "Not more princesses! Do I have to marry her if I undertake the  quest?"

"No, dear. Of course not." She patted his knee. "Let's go see someone."

The queen had her own little throne room, with the walls covered by portraits  of her parents (who had been king and queen in their own distant kingdom),  Victor (including some very embarassing childhood portraits which Victor always  wished she'd put away), and her beloved husband Aegis (mostly portraits drawn at  their wedding). A small group of squirrels in outrageously bright clothing had  seemingly set up camp in her throne room, and their colorful costumes dazzled  Victor's eyes, even as their dialect and strange accent confused and tickled at  his ears. He looked this way and that, seeing them dance, listening to them sing  or just talk with their musical-buzzing voices. Finally he recognized them.

"Gypsies!" he exclaimed. "A whole caravan of them!"

Marigold nodded, smiling. "They came to town to beg a favor for King  Glorindon of the Merciful Kingdom. The whole princess fiasco has all the  courtiers busy, though, so they almost got turned away. Luckily, I saw them from  my window and bid the Chamberlain let them in here. I've heard their plaint  already, but I'll let them say it to you, too." The queen cupped her hands and  called, "Paolo!"

At once, one gypsy broke away from the rest and approached. He did a  somersault flip, rolling on his shoulder and coming up on one knee. "Your mos'  gracious Majestay," he said with a smile. "An' thees mus' be your son, Preence  Weector." He nodded to Victor. "Ees wery nice to meechu."

"Likewise," Victor said, grinning. Paolo was an older squirrel, his fur a  darker shade of grey than the others, more like a charcoal color. He was dressed  in a bright blue vest and a pair of light green silk pantaloons with a red and  purple checkered bandanna tied around his forehead. Victor liked him at once,  and he felt his mood lightening.

"Paolo, tell my son what you told me, earlier."

Paolo nodded, gravely, and turned to Victor. "We are joos' come thrrough th'  lands o' Keeng Glorindon o' the Mercifool Keengdome, you know?"

Victor nodded. "My mother mentioned."

"Wall, th' Keeng, he ees wery nice to us, an', wan we tail heem we are come  thees way, he ask us to tack a mayssage to you an' your father th' Keeng."

Victor blinked, wading through the accent. "King Glorindon sent you with a  message?"

Paolo nodded. "Yays, your Highness. He ask us to tell you dat he need you  help wery much."

"What does he need help with, Paolo?"

"Wall, th' Keeng, He ees say hees doter ees being stolen from heem by a  weecked Dragoon."

Victor scratched his chin. "His daughter stolen by a Dragon?"

"Yays, your Highness. A weecked Dragoon."

"A wicked Dragon," Victor repeated, nodding.

"He ees know you ees looking for a waif."

"A waif? An abandoned child?"

Victor made a face. "Oh, yes. One of those."

"No, no...a waif ! A preencess to marry."

"Exactlee! So, he ees say dat eef you save hees doter, you can marry wit'  her."

Victor sighed. "Mother, I'm not sure..."

Marigold took her son by the arm. "Paolo, would excuse my son and I for just  a moment?"

"But o' course, your gracious Majestay."

Marigold steered Victor away from the group. "Dearest kit," she said, softly,  "don't you remember which princess King Glorindon's daughter is?"

Victor scratched his head. "I'm not even sure I can remember King Glorindon's  species, let alone his daughter's name. Hmmmm...it isn't Princess Stacey, is it?  That badger with the bad teeth?"

"No, no, dear. King Glorindon's daughter is Princess Mirabelle."

Victor's eyes widened! "Mirabelle! That young hellion mouse!? I can't  possibly rescue and marry her! Why, she wouldn't even dance with me! She..."  Victor's jaw stopped moving, as he began to realize the implications.

His mother beamed and nodded. "Exactly, dear. Mirabelle is a very headstrong  young woman. She won't marry anyone she doesn't want to, and she's made it  abundantly plain in the past that she doesn't want to marry you. So..."

"So!" Victor said, clapping his hands together in glee. "I go on a quest to  rescue a princess. That should make Father happy, and it'll get me out of the  castle for a while. I save the princess from the dragon, she tells me to piss  off and marry someone else, and I come home and shrug at Father. 'I tried!' I  can tell him. Oh, Mother! You're brilliant!"

"Yes," she said, simply, with a smile. "I know."

"Paolo!" Victor exclaimed, fairly dashing back to the older squirrel. "You  may tell King Glorindon that his daughter is as good as saved! I, Prince Victor  of Ardellion, will undertake this quest for the hand of the fair Princess  Mirabelle. I shall rescue the princess and punish the Dragon who kidnapped her."

"The weecked Dragoon!" Paolo reminded him.

"The very same," Victor agreed.

Paolo grinned. "I'm wery touched by your heroism, Preence Weector. To help  you een your quaist, I shall send weeth you my wery own son, Sasha. Ey! Sasha!  Come here!"

The gypsies parted, and one stepped forward. Victor's breath caught in his  throat. Sasha was a young squirrel, maybe a year younger than himself. His fur  was as black as a midnight sky, and his eyes were blue like a summer-sky. His  body was lithe and wiry, the definition of slender but tight muscles showing in  highlights of furry skin. He wore only a silk vest of many colors and a pair of  red satin pantaloons, and a single golden hoop earring hung from his right  earlobe. The young squirrel moved like a dancer, slowly approaching his father  and the two foxes. He got down on his knees, prostrating himself before the  nobles. "Your Majesty," he said, inclining his head to Queen Marigold. His soft,  high voice was much less heavily-accented than his father's, but it still  sounded musical and exotic to Victor's ears. He turned, not really looking up at  Victor. "Your Highness," he said, softly. He turned and smiled up at Paolo.  "Father. How may I serve the tribe?"

"Sasha," said Paolo. "De Preence Weector is going to save de Preencess  Meerabelle from da weecked Dragoon. I want you to go weeth heem and be hees  guide."

Sasha turned towards Victor and pressed his head to the floor. "Prince  Victor," he churred, "If, by guiding you, I can serve my tribe, I will do it,  gladly."

Victor was awed and a little embarassed. "Please, stand up, my friend," he  said, softly. "We are to be travelling companions. You don't have to bow to me.  Here, take my hand. Let me help you up."

Sasha slowly looked up, taking Victor's hand. As he rose, so did his eyes  until the Prince and the Gypsy-boy were face to face, eyes locked. The boy's  sapphire eyes looked deep into the Prince's emerald eyes, and the Prince looked  back, and it was obvious to everyone present (save, perhaps, themselves) that  each had lost his heart to the other. Paolo and the Queen exchanged a look.  Perhaps they'd planned this. Perhaps not. Its not for me to say. I will only say  that the queen and the gypsy chieftain exchanged knowing looks, and, in that  moment, smiled at each other.

The next morning, it was announced to the castle staff that Prince Victor  would be embarking on a grand quest. King Aegis grumbled a bit about the timing  (perhaps he'd been enjoying talking to all the young princesses and now would no  longer have a good excuse to do so), but he seemed content that, if his son did  have to go off on a protracted quest, at least he was going on a quest for a  Princess.

And so, on a bright Spring morning, Prince Victor rode on his white palfrey  out of the castle gates. He was arrayed in splendid silver armor, covered by a  brilliant green tabard bearing the coat of arms of Ardellion (an ancient and  rather cryptic symbol of a Gryphon sitting on top of a rather  uncomfortable-looking prone fox, and a motto that said, in anicent script,  "Don't Feed the Gryphons." No one in the Ardellion nobility seemed to know where  this symbol had come from nor what it was meant to signify, but, as it was the  family crest, it was worn, albeit with some embarassment, by the scions of the  Ardellion royalty.) By his side, in a beaten scabard, was his trusty sword,  Dancer, and he wore a blue cloak with a golden clasp.

Riding beside him was Sasha, his black fur combed. He wore the same clothing  as he had the day before, but he had added a bright red and purple bandanna in a  circlet around his head and a grey cloak to keep off the night-chill. He had a  long curved dagger in a sheath tied to his leg, and he carried a silver flute in  a special case on his belt. He was riding a simple brown pony, as well as  guiding a little mule that was carrying their food and other supplies. Together,  the two furries and three equines rode out of the castle, out of the city, and,  eventually, out of the settled area of Ardellion.

For the first hour, Victor rode ahead with Sasha trailing a little behind.  Then, little by little, Victor rode a little slower, until the pair were almost  side by side. Neither one spoke very much, but they smiled at one another  frequently, and they each stole looks when the other wasn't looking. Victor  admired the way Sasha's fur was just so unremittingly black, and Sasha, for his  part, thought Victor was the most handsome male he'd ever seen. Both were  extremely shy about really looking at the other, but both silently wondered if  the other thought he was attractive.

As the late afternoon sun started casting long shadows, Sasha asked, quietly,  "Have you ever been on a quest before?"

Victor considered. "Not as such, no."

Sasha nodded. "So, you don't know if they're always this..." The gypsy sought  for the word.

"Dull?" suggested Victor. The young squirrel nodded, sheepishly. "I don't  know. I imagine there'll be some excitement later in the quest, but, right now,  we're still in the fairly civilized areas of Ardellion. Fewer people live here,  but its still protected by the King's foresters and such. Brigands and monsters  won't find a very friendly reception around here. Once we leave the actual  borders of the kingdom, then we'll have to start worrying."

"I'm not anxious to meet brigands or monsters," Sasha admitted, with a smile,  "but I did rather think that questing involved more adventures and fewer  saddle-sores." Both young men laughed, and they rode on.

Victor pondered this. "I always know where my next meal is coming from. And  what I'm expected to do the next day. My life is all charted out for me. This  quest is really the first thing I've ever decided to do on my own."

By nightfall, they were both sore, stiff, and hungry. King Aegis' cooks had  prepared plenty of supplies for them, so they ate very well. "This is nice,"  Sasha said, stretching out on his bedroll. "Back with the tribe, we never know  for sure where our next meal is coming from."

Sasha grinned. "I just follow the tribe and do what my heart tells me its  time to do. When I'm hungry, I eat. When I'm tired, I sleep. When my heart is  light, I dance, or sing, or play my flute."

"That sounds lovely," sighed Victor. "I'm tired of being told what to do. All  my life, people have told me what I should be, but no one seems to care that I  don't want to be what I'm supposed to be."

"Still," said Sasha, "it must be nice to live in a palace and be rich and a  prince."

"Oh," said Victor, yawning, "its nice."

Both boys looked up at the sky, dozing gently. Finally, Sasha spoke. "Are you  really going to marry that Princess when we rescue her?"

Victor considered. "I don't know. Maybe. I guess."

"And have kids?"

Victor rolled over, half-asleep. "That usually goes with marriage. And my  parents want me to do it. Or at least my father does."

"Do you want to?" Sasha asked, hopefully. But Victor was already asleep.  Sasha watched the stars for a long time before he finally fell to sleep, and, on  every falling star he saw, he made the same wish.

"So, where, exactly, are we going?" Prince Victor asked the next morning. The  two furs were munching on trail rations from Ardellion's kitchens (granola,  mostly.)

"Well," Sasha said, thinking it over, "King Glorindon said the dragon took  his daughter away to the west, and, since Ardellion lies to the east of  Glorindon's land, it seems natural to retrace the route my tribe took, then go  further west until we get some idea of where the dragon is lairing."

Victor nodded. "There are many small villages in the western area of the  Merciful Kingdom. Your suggestion sounds eminently practical." Sasha beamed at  the prince, and Victor smiled back. "Not that I want to end this quest too  quickly," admitted Victor. "I mean, its been good for sightseeing if nothing  else, so far, and I rather like your company."

Sasha's ears turned a little red. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Well, its true. You're practical, smart, and a good guide."

"Oh." Sasha's face fell a little. "Any of my tribe would've made a good  guide."

"You're also very nice," Victor said, with a quirk of a smile, "and very..."  He sought a good phrasing for it. "Very easy on the eyes."

"Highness?" asked Sasha, confused.

"You're...um...nice to look at." Now it was Victor's turn to blush, a little.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Sasha said with a grin. "So are you."

They soon broke camp and travelled onwards. Now they were in the wilder areas  of Ardellion, travelling along deserted roads with no sign of inhabitants. Sasha  was more used to travelling with a large group, so he watched the darkening  trees with no small amount of nervousness. Victor was nervous, too, but he acted  bravely to put Sasha more at ease. The path climbed up a hillside, and Victor  worried over Sasha's increasing fear.

"There's nothing to worry about," he said with a warm smile and more  confidence than he felt. "Its not as if we're going to be ambushed by an ogre or  anything."

"Actually," said the large ogre which appeared in the road ahead, "you are."

"An ogre!" exclaimed Victor, unnecessarily. The ogre was huge,  thickly-muscled, and a dubious shade of grey-green. "What do you want from us,  vile monster?" Victor challenged.

"Oh, the usual," sighed the ogre. "Your money, for starters."

"We don't have any money," suggested Sasha.

"Hmmm...any jewels?" the ogre asked, hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," said Victor, coolly.

"Jewelry? Silks? Unusually-colored bits of string?"

"You're not terribly choosy, for an ogre," Sasha mused.

The ogre shrugged. "Not many travellers come through here," it admitted. "You  take what you can get."

"Well," said Sasha apologetically, "We really don't have any of those  things?"

"Um..." The ogre pondered. "I'd settle for some granola."

Victor rolled his eyes. "Well, oh easily-satisfied fiend, I fear we must say  thee nay! We have only enough with us to see us through our quest, so we have to  keep what we have."

The ogre sighed. "In that case, I'm afraid I shall have to pummel you with my  club until you cease movement."

Victor blinked. "What club?"

The ogre pulled a tree out of the ground. "This club."

"Oh," said Sasha with a nod. "That club."

The ogre grinned and nodded at Sasha, but, as he did, Victor urged his horse  forward. Dancer flashed out of his sheath, and he brought the sword sweeping  down in an arc. Bright metal flashed, and the blade bit deeply across the ogre's  knuckles. "Yowtch!" cried the ogre, and he dropped his club as he popped his  smarting fingers into his mouth. The tree fell with a loud crunch across his  toes. "Guh!" exclaimed the ogre, wrenching his foot from under the tree. He  hopped about, clutching his foot, until he smacked his head into a low-hanging  tree-branch. "Erg!" gasped the ogre, reeling back. He hopped backwards, off the  trail, and ended up hopping straight over a cliff. "Aiiiieeeeee!" howled the  ogre as he tumbled down the hillside.

"Poor old ogre," Sasha said as they watched him tumble away.

"He'll be fine," Victor said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Ogres are  hardy. Dumb, but hardy."

They travelled west for a long time, until, after about a week, they went  around an outcropping of mountains. When they camped that night, they were in  the Merciful Kingdom. They ate venison stew, lovingly prepared by King Aegis'  cooks and sealed in individual pouches which could be reheated in boiling water.  "So," said Sasha, between bites of stew, "how did the Merciful Kingdom get its  name?"

Victor laughed. "It started with King Glorindon's grandfather," he said with  a grin, "King Terlindon, and with the King's old jester. Terlindon wanted to be  a real tyrant and rule his people with an iron fist, but his jester was very,  very kind-hearted. The King had all his political enemies captured and tossed  into a deep, dark dungeon he'd had made. It got so bad that even his own guards  refused to look at him for fear of him taking it the wrong way. One day, the  King decided to inspect the dungeons and make sure they were unpleasant enough.  To his great dismay, he found that all the prisoners were gone. His jester had  set them all free."

Sasha grinned. "The jester freed the prisoners?"

"Exactly, so, when King Terlindon asked why, the jester replied, 'Well, the  first person you imprisoned was my auntie, and I really couldn't let her rot in  prison, so I let her go. Then, I figured that, since you were already going to  be mad at me for that, you might as well be really mad at me. I've let everyone  go.'

"Well, Terlindon was so angry, he had a fit. It was such a bad fit that he  couldn't speak, just glower, growl, and drool. The jester, who was nobody's  fool, after all, wasted no time in getting the King locked up in a cell. 'He's a  bit mad,' the jester told the guard. 'He thinks he's the king.' And, since the  guards never looked at the king any more, the young guard standing there didn't  recognize the king, at all. He just locked the screaming, angry man up in a  cell, and, oddly enough, no one, not even the king's wife or young son ever  asked, for years afterwards, to see the king. He was so unpopular, when he  disappeared, no one missed him. From then on, the jester ruled, always  pretending he was carrying out Terlindon's orders. Eventually, King Terlindon's  son, Maxillon, was of an age of majority, and the jester turned the kingdom, and  the king, still a raving prisoner, over to Maxillon. Its said that, from then  on, two things could be counted on there: merciful treatment for criminals and a  seat on parliament for the king's jester."

The two young furs laughed, together. "Is that story true?" asked Sasha with  a grin.

They stretched out on their bedrolls, each one thinking private thoughts.  Finally, Victor spoke. "Do you think we'll find the dragon soon?"

Victor shrugged. "I don't know. I wasn't there."

Sasha shivered. "I sort of hope not, but I guess its kind of mandatory."

Victor nodded. "If we don't fight the dragon, we can't rescue the princess. I  don't know how the princess feels about marriage, though. We'll just have to  play it by ear."

The next morning, they set out across the Merciful Kingdom. Since neither one  really wanted to be dragged through all the formality and pomp of a royal feast  or any such thing, they decided to skirt King Glorindon's castle and ride  straight on towards the jagged peaks which seemed ideal terrain for nesting  dragons. As they rode, Sasha played, softly, on his silver flute.

"That's very lovely," Victor said, at last, when Sasha had finished a song.

"Its an old gypsy tune," Sasha said with a wistful smile. "Its about two  young lovers from rich families whose parents don't wish them to marry. They run  away together and live happily ever after, even though they're poor, because  they have each other."

Victor smiled, then sat, feeling the rhythm of his horse beneath him,  thinking. "I'm not sure," he said, after a time, "that I could be poor, even for  the sake of my own true love. I don't think I'd be very good at it."

Sasha looked sad and said nothing else for a time. After they had ridden in  silence for a mile or so, Sasha suddenly smiled. "I think you could be poor,  your Highness. Believe me, I've been poor, and its not much worse than what  we're doing right now."

"Oh," said Victor, considering, "then I expect I could manage it, after all.  But I wouldn't want to live like this all the time. I'm used to living in one  place."

Sasha stroked his fingers through his horse's mane, softly, and said, "I have  been travelling all my life, with my tribe, but I think I could live in one  place all the time, if it meant being with someone I loved."

The two friends smiled at each other, and something soft and sighing passed  between them. Perhaps, in that moment, they finally knew what the others had  known when they had first looked into each other's eyes.

They found the first sign of the dragon the next morning. They had been  riding into the mountainous crags, when all of a sudden, Sasha exclaimed, "I  think the dragon must lair near here?"

Victor looked up from where he'd been trying to tighten his stirrup while  riding. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, there's a snakeskin the size of a carriage and four horses blocking  the road ahead."

"Oh!" said Victor, reigning in his horse. "Yes, that's definitely a good  clue. Glad it wasn't dragon-droppings. Between you and me, I just don't want to  get that familiar with the beast."

They rode carefully around the huge cast-off skin, then around a turn in the  trail. Ahead of them was a dank cave from which came a scent of sulphur and  occasional gouts of thick smoke.

"I would suppose," Victor said, in an appropriately dramatic tone, "that  we've found the beast's den." Sasha nodded. "Stay close. We don't wish to become  separated."

They dismounted, tying their horses to one side of the trail, and approached  the cave-mouth. "In a heroic legend," Sasha mused, "you would sound a horn to  summon the monster forth for battle."

Victor nodded. "Ah, but there aren't any legendary heroes left alive," he  observed, "suggesting that their example is not, necessarily, the best to  follow."

"You may be right," Sasha admitted, cowering slightly behind the prince. "I  will follow your lead."

The two young furs crept forward, into the cave mouth. They followed the  winding tunnel they found, their eyes and noses burning from the acrid smoke.  Finally, the tunnel began to widen, and an eerie light came from up ahead.  Victor turned around, gave a very surprised Sasha a hug for good luck, and began  to silently move forward. When they saw the grand cave ahead, however, despite  their desire for silence, both boys gasped in amazement.

The cave was large, and its walls were encrusted with many-faceted gems of  every color imaginable. The light came from a pool which glowed under its own  power, and this strange phosphoresence reflected off the gems, bathing the cave  in rippling, irridescent waves of multi-colored brilliance. There were heaping  piles of gold, silver, gems, and objets d'art of all descriptions. Fabulously  crafted armor with delicate gothic filligree-work was heaped in piles with  paintings by Renaissance masters. Delicate oriental silk-screens were carelessly  dropped over piles of rubies, sorted by size. At the center of it all sat a  grand table, carved of a single emerald, and inlaid with sapphires of impossible  size. At one corner of the table, with its back to the door, sat the dragon, a  fanged and clawed monstrosity of red scales and flame. Opposite it, in a throne  of mohogany and chalcedony, sat Princess Mirabelle, and, as the heroes entered,  she cried out!

"Gin!" she cried, slapping her cards onto the table with a ferocious grin.

"No!" cried the dragon, "it can't be! Not again!" It tossed a set of  hand-drawn tarot cards onto the table, put its scaly-face in its ferocious paws,  and wept big boiling tears, blubbering like a baby.

The princess blinked. Immediately, she threw her arms around the dragon's  neck and stroked its scales, soothingly. "Its okay," she said, softly.

"No it isn't!" the dragon wailed. "I'm just no good at this game. You've  beaten me three-hundred and sixty-seven times in a row! That's got to be some  kind of record. I'm...I'm...a failure at dragoning!"

"That's not at all true!" cried the princess. "Why, look at this wonderful  hoard you've accumulated!"

"Excuse me," said Victor, stepping out of his concelament, Sasha close behind  him, peeking out from behind the prince's cloak.

"That's true," said the dragon, sniffling.

"And you've captured a princess," the princess suggested, giving the dragon a  friendly punch on the arm.

"Excuse me," said Victor, raising his paw to get their attention.

The dragon smiled. "Well, yes, I did do that."

"And rampaged. Let's not forget the rampaging," the princess said, helpfully.

"Excuse me!" Victor shouted, feeling a bit put out that mortal combat had yet  to be engaged in.

The dragon and the princess looked over at Victor. "Do you mind?" the  princess said, angrily. "We're having a little cheer-up session here, and we  don't need..." She suddenly realized who he was. "Oh! Prince Victor of  Ardellion. What the heck are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same," Victor said, walking toward here, Sasha  reluctantly trailing after him. "I was here to rescue you."

"He's gonna slay me!" the dragon wailed, cowering behind the princess.

"Nonsense!" the princess exclaimed. She turned and hugged the dragon.  "Anyway, you've got teeth, and claws, and can breathe fire, so if he has come to  slay you..." She turned and looked at Victor. "You haven't, have you?"

"Um..." Victor looked at the dragon, which was shyly waving at him from  behind the princess. "Well, no. Not as such, really."

"See?" laughed the princess, elbowing the dragon playfully. "I told you.  Anyway, introductions all around. Dragon, this is Victor. He's the prince of  Ardellion, and pretty nice, if a bit too charming for his own good."

"How-de-doo," said the dragon, peeking out from behind Mirabelle with a shy  smile.

"Victor, this is Dragon. He's very fierce-looking, but he's just a big softie  when you get past all the scales and claws and such."

"Delighted to meet you," Victor said with a smile.

"The pleasure's all mine," said the dragon, relaxing.

"Who's that little fellow cowering behind you, Victor?" the princess said  with a friendly nod.

"Oh, this is Sasha, my...um...travelling companion," Victor said, lamely.  "Sasha, this is Princess Mirabelle and..um...Dragon."

"H-hello," Sasha said, with a nervous grin.

"Well, now that introductions are out of the way, why don't we get down to  brass tacks," Victor suggested. "For one thing, what the heck are you doing  here, Mirabelle?"

Mirabelle sighed. "Oh, well, the usual. My father was making noise about why  do I never dance with the princes? Why do I never drop glass slippers when they  very thoughtfully smear pitch on the stairs? Why was I never allowing my finger  to be pricked by a poisoned rose or something and fall into slumber for a  hundred years until my prince came and freed me with a single kiss? You know?"

"I know exactly," Victor sighed, thinking of his talk with King Aegis.

"Well, I was in the garden one day with my Lady-in-Waiting. You remember her,  don't you, Victor? Anastasia?"

Victor considered. "Is that the ferret that accidentally spills her drink on  me every time I ask you to dance?"

Mirabelle chuckled and patted Victor's arm, apologetically. "Yes, sorry.  She's a bit protective of me. Anyway, she and I were sitting in the garden, when  Dragon came and alighted, threatening to carry me off. Well, Anastasia wasn't  having any of that, I can tell you. She grabbed a croquet mallet and really let  poor Dragon have what-for."

Dragon winced. "Ouch. Don't remind me." Victor gave Dragon a sympathetic  smile.

"Well, when things had calmed down, we all sat down and talked it over. We  figured that it might not be such a bad idea to let Dragon carry me off after  all. For one thing, it would keep most would-be suitors at bay to know that, in  order to win my hand, they'd have to battle with a fearsome monster."

Dragon blushed. "Please, don't embarass me."

"And, for another, my father couldn't exactly press the issue of my being  married if I were being held captive by a gruesome creature of evil."

"I beg your pardon?" Dragon said, sounding upset and offended.

"Oh, I don't mean you," Mirabelle said, patting Dragon's arm, softly. "I just  mean the way people think of dragons in general."

"Superstitious prejudice," Dragon snorted. "I'm not gruesome at all." He  looked suddenly worried. "You don't think I'm gruesome, do you?" he asked the  three furs.

"Certainly not!" Mirabelle exclaimed. "You're very handsome in a serpentine  way."

"Oh, indeed," said Victor, with a smile, "and quite the most personable  dragon I've ever met."

"Yes," said Sasha, who had overcome his fear and emerged from behind Victor's  cloak. "As dragons go, you are clearly a most civilized and sensitive sort."

"Thank you," said Dragon, preening a little. "Dragons aren't just  one-dimensional princess-capturing hoard-mongerers, either."

"No," said Mirabelle, proudly. "He paints."

"That's right," said Dragon, smiling. "And I compose harpsicord music."

"He plays, too," Mirabelle said, with a smile. "He's very good."

"I'm really not," said Dragon, blushing, although he was clearly pleased at  the flattery.

"This is all well and good," said Victor, twirling his whiskers,  thoughtfully, "but it doesn't solve any of our problems. If I don't rescue you,  some other lunkhead will, and while I'm ready to accept the idea of a pacifistic  dragon, not everyone is. Eventually, some harpsicord-hating metal-jacketed twit  is going to put a lance through you, and then, Princess, you're going to get  married if you want to or not."

"Oh, bother," sighed Mirabelle. "I don't wish to be married."

"Neither do I," said Victor, "but what can we do?"

"Well," said the Dragon, curiously, "why don't you want to get married,  Mirabelle?"

"Um..." Mirabelle fidgeted, slightly, looking at Victor. "Don't get upset,  Victor, but I'm not too fond of princes. Oh, there's nothing wrong with them,"  she hastily added, as Victor looked indignant, "its just that they  don't...interest me."

"Oh," said Victor, non-commitally. Then, "Oh!" he exclaimed, as he realized  something. "You and your...lady-in-waiting?" Mirabelle nodded, blushing a bit.  "Oh," Victor said, thoughtfully. "I never knew."

"Well, I should hope not," said Mirabelle. "We've been very careful."

"Um, well, Princess, if its any consolation...um...."

"Oh?" inquired Mirabelle, curiously. Then, "Oh!" she exclaimed, as his  expression told her everything. "You don't like princesses? You sure danced with  enough of them."

Victor shrugged. "One has to keep up appearances when one is prince."

"Well, its nice we've all reached an understanding," Dragon said, sadly, "but  that doesn't solve anything. You'll have to go back, and, when you do, you'll  both eventually have to get married."

"Yes," Victor and Mirabelle sighed together.

"Wait!" said Sasha, grinning. "I know what your solution is. You should both  marry each other!"

"What?" Victor and Mirabelle said, looking at each other and making faces.

"Yes!" said Sasha, grinning and nodding. "Don't you see? Neither one of you  is interested in the other, but if you get married, what law says you actually  have to do anything together?"

The Prince and Princess pondered, considering each other. Victor grinned  first. "I could turn a blind eye to your...um....lady-in-waiting."

Mirabelle grinned, too. "And I could avoid noticing your..." She looked over  at Sasha, smiling. "Travelling companion."

Sasha and Victor looked at each other and blushed, but both smiled, softly.  "Well, that's all well and good for you," pouted dragon, "but what am I to do?"

"Simple," said Sasha, smiling. "Since you're obviously such a civilized  fellow, we can say that you've been hired as expert anti-dragon security  consultant."

"That could work," Dragon said, blinking.

"You have a very practically minded travelling companion, Victor," Mirabelle  said with a smile.

"Yes," said Victor, smiling dreamily at Sasha. "Isn't he?"

Victor, Sasha, Mirabelle, and Dragon returned to the Merciful Kingdom, and,  despite some moments of uncomfortableness when King Glorindon started talking  about heirs, everything went off without a hitch. Mirabelle was happily reunited  with Anastasia, and, together with King Glorindon and a band of courtiers, the  two happy couples and their draconic friend travelled to Ardellion. There, King  Aegis and Queen Marigold happily greeted them, and a week of celebration ensued.

Prince Victor of Ardellion and Princess Mirabelle of the Merciful Kingdom  were married a month later, and the two kingdoms united, becoming known, forever  after, as the Merciful Kingdom of Ardellion. After the wedding, however, the  couple retreated to a private suite of rooms, and, if anyone thought it odd that  they were accompanied by Princess Mirabelle's Lady-in-Waiting, the gypsy-boy  whom Victor had taken as his squire, and the dragon who had brought them all  together, Queen Marigold was quick to point out that their opinions were best  kept to themselves. No one knew, then, that the couple exchanged nothing more  than a friendly hug, and then each took another to bed, while their dragon  friend guarded the doors to their separate rooms, smiling at what he heard  within.

Victor and Sasha retreated to their private bedroom, drew the heavy blinds  against the night's chill, and embraced, gently. "Do you regret that we've  waited all this time?" asked Victor, nuzzling his new squire's ears.

"No," said Sasha, rubbing his cheek on Victor's chest. "I don't mind at all.  Now, everyone is convinced that you and Mirabelle are deeply in love, and no one  is going to bother us. We're safe, now, and we can just be happy together."

"Do you mind that no one knows that you're the one I really love?" Victor  asked.

"No," said Sasha, smiling, as his paws moved up under Victor's tunic. "I  know, and that's all that matters, really."

"Oh, my wise friend," said Victor, raising his arms and helping Sasha remove  the tunic. "You always know best." He held Sasha, closely, stroking his love's  back, tenderly. "I love you, Sasha," he said, at length. "I don't care what I'm  supposed to do any more. From now on, we're going to do what we want.

Their clothes dropped around them, and they embraced, sharing with each  other, at last, what they had longed to since that first day that hand had met  hand and eyes had met eyes.

And, because this is a fairy-story, they lived, unsurprisingly...

HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

The material and art on this page is copyrighted by Andrew "Aethan" French  and Steve "iyu" Domanski.

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