The Prince Gets Denied

I hope she thinks heavy sweating is sexy. This was Dirk's thought as he hacked through yet another row of spiked vines and stomped the shivering, screaming plants under his iron armor boots. The plant's magical voices were reedy, haunted keening, and they kept the other plants around Dirk slapping him furiously like thousands of animated whips.

But the witch was right, and the potion made his skin hard enough to resist the poisoned thorns. The green spikes broke off whenever they got around the few gaps in his armor. The merchant who had sold him the armor had been an honest man, and the metal suit was more than capable of fending off vines, even if they were magical poisonous vines.

But the protection didn't mean that the stray vines catching him in the face didn't hurt. Because they did. They hurt a lot, and the last vine to hit him had broken his nose. All he'd been able to smell for the last ten minutes was blood, and the fluid trickled down his throat to fill his mouth with copper, iron, and snot.

Dirk kept his head bowed. His helm and chain mail endured the abuse, while the potion kept his skin resistant and tough enough to help him mow his way through the vines. But his hardened skin also itched, and he stank from hours of sweating under the heavy armor.

How long have I been doing this? He shoved the greedy thought aside and cut down more plants, stomping them down to move forward a few more inches.

Behind him, the plants grew back. He couldn't retreat. He had to get inside, and he had to find the princess to break the spell. There were no halfway measures. He either found her, or he would die trying. In fact, if he stopped moving, the plants would grow up underneath him. The vines would strip off his armor, and then...well, he didn't want to imagine what might happen to him if the plants got hold of him.

His sword hit empty air, and he raised his head, his handsome, square face filling with distrust. But the secret entrance was right where the thief had said, and even if he was an unscrupulous brigand, his information had proved to be accurate.

Dirk felt really bad about turning the thief over to the sheriff, but the law was the law, and Dirk was the prince. If he didn't uphold the law, why should anyone else have to?

Stumbling into the short passageway, Dirk searched the wall on his right for the correct brick to push. The slightly green brick in the middle of the wall was a booby trap, while the normal looking brick to the left was a switch to open the stone door. Dirk was hoping he could make it back in time to write a pardon for the thief to spare his life.

Of course, that was assuming that he could remember the man's name. Dirk was sure it started with a letter, but he wasn't sure which one. He was not stupid, but Dirk never bothered remembering names when he was dealing with hardened criminals.

The heavy stone door rumbled as it was rolled back into the wall slowly. Dirk slipped through as soon as he had enough room to accommodate his armor, and he pushed the button to start closing the door behind himself on the opposite side.

As soon as it had closed, Dirk dropped to his knees and started to wheeze. He was too hot because of the potion, and because of the armor. He'd trained for years to build up his resistance, but the fight with the magic vines had taken so long, and he'd had to get through the maze walking in the armor before that. He'd lost track of time, but it had to be a lot longer than he'd trained for.

He heard something growl, and his magically hardened face still didn't have the strength to hide Dirk's rising feelings of dismay. He thought, Right, there was the also dragon to worry about.

Dirk looked up, and a wide snout rippled in a snarl. The short, curving gap in the scaly upper lip revealed the tips of a dozen pointed teeth. The blood stains on every tooth promised painful, agonizing, hideous death, and there were only a dozen showing through one gap, while hundreds more were hiding inside the dragon's mouth.

Dirk grabbed a bag on his belt, and he thought, I hope you don't like your meals raw.

Loosening the drawstring just as the huge red beast started to inhale, Dirk threw the bag of dragons bane powder into the gaping nostril on the left side of the dragon's snout.

The dragon had been trying to summon a flame, and instead, he sneezed, sucking his own fire back into his lungs. He fell dead, his massive head just barely missing Dirk.

Dirk hit his limit, and he couldn't carry the armor anymore. Gasping for air, he clawed at the hooks locking his armor sleeves to his cuirass. The sleeves clanged to the stone floor, and they were quickly joined by the cuirass, and then by the armored leggings and hip guards.

He almost started to pull off the chain mail, but without the heavy plate armor on, he no longer felt like he was boiling to death in his own sweat. He had no choice but to keep on the boots, since they required a special tool to get out of.

Picking up his sword, Dirk crossed the courtyard around the dead dragon, and then he entered the lower level of the tower. He started up the steps, forgetting his fatigue and the burning pain in his lungs. It was slightly harder to ignore the burning pain in his legs, but he was trying to think of it as a good pain.

He was on the final path to the princess. It was hard to believe that after ten years, all of his training would finally pay off. He would meet his true love and wake her from her centuries long sleep. Men had tried and failed to reach the princess for ages, and no one ever returned.

No one had even made it through the maze as far as Dirk could tell, but then the thief must have made it through the maze before.

There were so many skeletons in the maze, maybe even hundreds. There were too many styles of armor for Dirk to recognize them all. But oddly enough, none of the skulls had faces. It looked like some huge beast had bitten off the front half of every man's skull.

He cut his morbid thought short when he reached the door at the top of the tower stairs. He shouldered open the door, but there was no need. No traps or locks held the princess prisoner. Magic locked her within eternal sleep, until the kiss of true love woke her up.

Dirk dropped his sword when he saw the bed; when he saw her. Her beauty was almost supernatural, and her young, pink face glowed with a soft blush as she slept on her back. Her hands laid lightly across her stomach, and her white nightgown was still clean despite her ages-long sleep without moving.

There was no dust on her blemish-free face, nor in her curly blonde hair. Her bare calves were crossed, and she was barefoot.

She was the most radiant and lovely girl Dirk had ever seen, and more than just his chest swelled at the sight of her. He didn't know her name. No one did. But he knew that he could wake her up and ask her. Or maybe he would try to guess, to amuse her.

Dirk shed his heavy chain mail armor as he approached the bed. Drawing back the sheer drapes that hung from the ceiling, he settled one knee on the down-soft bed and leaned over to brush his lips over hers.

But nothing happened.

Dirk tried again, and then, frustrated, he tried kissing her harder. Then, deciding that maybe he needed to be more passionate, Dirk tried to slip her some tongue. But she had morning mouth and tasted worse than his armpits smelled. No, she tasted like she'd barfed before she'd fallen asleep.

Dirk blinked, aware of fatigue weighing him down. He realized that the princess was preserved not by a spell, but by a sleeping potion. Even just the lingering traces in her mouth were affecting him.

The bed was too soft, and he was so tired.

Then the princess opened her eyes, but there were no whites in them, nor were there irises. Light from the open window reflected over the glossy black orbs inside her eye sockets, and they were so shiny that Dirk could see himself in the reflections.

She leaned closer, and she whispered, "My hero."

She touched his cheek gently with her hand. Then she opened her mouth wide to consume his face in one bite.