Fic: The Dubiously Awesome Adventures of the Pampered Prince of Oakdale
Title: The Dubiously Awesome Adventures of the Pampered Prince of Oakdale
Author: random_nic
Characters: Holden, Luke, Noah, Reid
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Don't get too attached to any furry creatures in this story.
Word Count: 5652
Summary: AU to the point of blasphemy. Holden seeks the help of a healer when his royal son becomes a royal pain.
Notes: Written for the prompt Dungeons and Dragons by aspirwriter at the what-did-you-do lj
Disclaimer: I blatantly steal characters, ideas, and clichés that do not belong to me. Allow me to apologize in advance to everyone everywhere.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land far, far away - Illinois, to be precise - there lived a handsome young prince. Luciano of Oakdale was much beloved in his tiny village, and his joie de vivre and unparalleled blonde beauty were renowned throughout the Land of Lincoln. Prince Luke spent a happy childhood surrounded by caring family and friends. He was also blessed with great riches, courtesy of his family ties to both the Empire of Walsh, and the House of Grimaldi.
As Luke neared adulthood, he became spoiled and selfish. He routinely engaged in mean-spirited taunting and cruel pranks. He even pretended to court young ladies, then abandoned them in laughter once they disrobed to offer him their maidenhood.
Word of the prince’s cruelty spread, and his father Holden - the Earl of Snyder - became especially concerned with this development. He sought the counsel of a local healer, the Duke of Oliver. Holden implored, “what can be done to cure my son of this grievous affliction?”
Unbeknownst to the prince’s father, his son had previously garnered the duke’s ire by sling-shotting rocks at his expensive chariot simply for sport. Now that the opportunity for revenge had presented itself, the duke resolved to grasp it. “This is a most grave development, my lord. The infection of narcissism roots itself quickly, and spreads without restraint if left untreated. In short, if we do not immediately take action, you son will most certainly become... a royal ass.”
The earl gasped, horrified. “No... anything but that! The same disease already claimed his birth father. I cannot bear to watch my poor son suffer the same sorry fate!”
The Duke of Oliver placed a hand on the earl’s shoulder in a seemingly consoling fashion. “Please, my lord; fear not. I have recently received word of an experimental program showing great success in healing this very disorder. It will necessitate great sacrifice on your part, for the procedure requires many moons to take effect. But if you will entrust your son to my care, when next you lay eyes upon him, he shall be an entirely new man.”
Holden was hesitant to see his son removed from his own care. He loved the child as his own, even in light of the prince’s recent behavior. Still, the earl could not deny his son the remedy the boy needed simply because he would miss him too much.
“Where is this facility? May I visit the boy?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” the duke answered quickly. “Any connections to his past during treatment could cause your son to relapse, and eradicate his progress. The program your son needs is located in the hamlet of Springfield.”
The Earl of Snyder balked. “I thought Springfield was decimated by the same villains trying to destroy Oakdale?” Indeed, their own village had been under attack by all manner of inexplicable creatures, including seemingly incestuous twins, a giant talking clown doll, and a pompous, scarf-wielding film professor.
“It is true, the town was damaged in the battle,” Oliver answered. “But Springfield survives, and has begun the rebuilding efforts. This medical clinic is a beacon of their renaissance. Your son will be perfectly safe in its care.”
Reassured, the earl stood to address the healer. “I cannot thank you enough. Please accept my best stallion as a token of my gratitude. You have restored the hope I feared was lost forever.” Overcome with relief, Holden impulsively embraced the other man.
Playing along, the duke returned the embrace. As his arms wound around the earl’s waist, however, he could not fail to appreciate the solid strength under his fingertips, and the enticing, masculine scent of the other man. “Mmm,” he murmured, then immediately realized his mistake.
“Excuse me?” The Earl of Snyder pulled back, regarding the other man quizzically.
“I apologize,” the duke hastily explained. “I was concentrating on your son’s treatment, of course. I think it in his best interest that we meet on a weekly basis, so I can update you on his most recent progress.”
“Oh, thank you!” Holden was elated to receive such wonderful care for his son from the famed physician. “I cannot imagine your schedule easily allows time for such appointments.”
“I shall make the time,” the doctor responded. After all, I plan to make it worth my while. “I would not want you to be troubled with worry for your son, my lord.”
“Your kindness is boundless, Doctor. I insist that you choose appointment times for your convenience. My schedule is fluid now, since my wayward wife has absconded to the Isle of Malta to conduct her infidelities. And please; address me by my first name.” Holden extended a hand in friendship, and the duke shook it leisurely.
Still firmly grasping the earl’s hand, the devious physician warmly replied, “Agreed. If you will address me as Reid.” With any luck, the doctor would rid Oakdale of its royal nuisance and bed the brat’s desirable father within a fortnight.
*****************************************************************************
It all began when Luke’s well-meaning father took him to the most prominent local healer, concerned at his behavior. Luke was sure the physician still nursed a grudge over one of his harmless pranks when the man diagnosed him with “narcissism,” and convinced Holden to send him away for treatment. Still, the prince was unperturbed. He was tired of Oakdale, anyway. The change of scene was welcome.
Luke had wanted to get away from it all. His nefarious bio dad Damian had recently blown into town, just long enough to feign affection for Luke, using the charade to instead woo his faithless mother Lily back to Malta. A few weeks at some posh rehab center to decompress in the aftermath would hardly kill him.
If only the young royal had known what truly lay in store for him. Instead of hobnobbing with other fashionable nobles and assorted celebrities in a swanky spa, Luke found himself transported to a decaying, gloomy castle, visible only due to the circling light emanating from its tower. The carriage even had to await the lowering of the drawbridge in order to safely cross the moat of boiling lava.
Such was the power of Luke’s trust in Holden - his real father, for all intents and purposes - that it did not occur to him to attempt escape before the crossing. He knew whatever this place was, Holden had sent him there with the purest of intentions. Even surrounded by bleakness, the prince did not feel alarmed until the Duke of Oliver, who had accompanied him, spoke.
“Your days of terrorizing Oakdale are at an end,” the doctor said tauntingly. “Your days, period, may not be far behind. Welcome to your new home, your Highness. May you rot here.”
With that, two burly henchman (Luke certainly wouldn’t classify such thugs as “orderlies”) dragged Luke away, to the delighted, mocking laughter of the duke. Finally, Luke realized his predicament. He was not a patient, but a prisoner.
Terrified, Luke struggled in earnest against his captors. It was no use. He was tall and fit, but still no match for such adversaries.
Luke cried out in vain to the heavens. “Oh, pitiless gods, why hast ye abandoned me?” (All right, so the prince could be a bit melodramatic at times).
Despite the futility, Luke continued to fight as he was dragged down into the bowels of the fortress. His kicks and screams halted, however, when they arrived at the lowest level - the dungeons. It wasn’t the visual confirmation of his plight that caused his sudden stillness, but rather the sight of those apparently charged with insuring his imprisonment.
Two very large, very angry-looking, very real dragons.
The larger dragon sniffed the air, snapping its head in Luke’s direction upon catching his scent. Immediately, it went airborne, and lurched in the prince’s direction. Thankfully, the beast was brought up short by a heavy chain shackled around its ankle.
The fearsome creature reared its head, expelling a loud roar of frustration. For the first time, genuine fear crept into Luke’s heart. Not only was he a prisoner; any thought of escape was impossible.
Unless the prince’s father figured out that he’d been tricked, the Duke of Oliver’s wish would likely come true. Luke was going to die here. Fearing his fate, Luke began to quietly cry.
Meanwhile, one of his escorts distracted the dragons with their evening meal - two frightened, trembling deer. He led the creatures by rope to the other side of the room, just out of reach of the dragons, who both moved towards the doomed animals. With the path clear, the other brawny captor dragged a once-again thrashing Luke to his cell. The prince had erroneously thought his chances with a sole captor might improve, but his hopes were dashed when he was easily tossed into a dungeon cell.
The heavy who’d imprisoned him retreated back to the stairwell. Once he was clear of the dragons’ range, the other thug pushed the live meals forward, into the clutches of the hungry beasts. Luke watched through the tiny window-shaped hole in the door of his cell, as each gentle animal was brutally consumed, their wretched cries of terror and pain assaulting Luke’s ears.
“STOP!” he screamed, as if he could somehow reason with the ravenous creatures. Nevermind that at the first piercing bites, the deer were better off dead, anyway. The prince was shocked, then, when one of the dragons actually did cease its attack. Instead, it turned, and regarded Luke’s face through the tiny window, cocking its head almost sympathetically.
Of course, that was ridiculous, Luke told himself. He had simply distracted the dragon, who likely wasn’t accustomed to hearing voices, since there seemed to be no other prisoners in the dungeons. And Luke hadn’t accomplished anything apart from depriving the beast of its meal, since its larger companion simply scarfed down the second doe, as well.
Still, the other dragon continued to stare at Luke. The young prince was shaking and sobbing at the bloodbath he’d just witnessed, yet he couldn’t look away. He felt as entranced by the beast as it seemed to be with him.
After a few minutes, Luke’s exhaustion from the traumatic events of the day overtook him. His eyelids drooped, closing for seconds at a time more than once. Incredibly, the smaller dragon seemed to sense the prince’s fatigue, and curled up on the cold, stone floor.
The beast didn’t stop watching Luke, though. It almost seemed to be waiting for him to follow suit. Experimentally, Luke stepped away from the door, then waited a few moments.
Sure enough, when Luke went to the window to look again, the creature had closed its eyes. It must have sensed Luke’s return, however; its lids opened almost immediately upon Luke’s reappearance. Luke was amazed to feel a smile form across his face.
The prince nodded, then moved out of sight once again. He laid down on the only piece of furniture in his cell; a hard cot that made Luke question whether the stone floor was a better option. Unbeknownst to him, the smaller dragon’s eyes remained on the cell for a quarter of an hour, insuring the boy was asleep before allowing itself to rest.
*****************************************************************************
Thin streaks of sunlight shone dully through the cracks in his dingy cell. Prince Luke groaned as he awoke, his muscles sore from the unforgiving floor, the realization of another day of confinement sinking in. In truth, the young prince wasn’t certain exactly how many days his imprisonment had continued.
He possessed not even a rock to mark the passage of time with. The only item in his cell, save his cot and the (now-rancid) clothes on his back was the silver pot provided to answer nature’s calls. Paltry nourishment was provided once daily, at the same time as the dragons’ meal, so their prey could be used to lure them away from the cell long enough for the prince’s food to be delivered.
If Luke was lucky, the old pot was removed and a new one was provided, but that only happened every few days. Meaning, between the stench of his own cell and the proceedings outside of it, in which defenseless animals were savagely sacrificed, Luke barely ate. Still, he did observe something of note.
The smaller dragon never ate. Luke was sure he’d been a prisoner at least a week, yet from the moment he had cried out on the first night, attempting to stop the carnage, the dragon simply didn’t touch whatever meal it was provided. Of course, the second animal wasn’t spared, since the other dragon always greedily consumed it.
Luke began to feel guilty. His dragon - he thought of it that way now, if only to differentiate from the other dragon - had become more listless as the days passed. Luke didn’t know much about dragons, especially since he hadn’t realized they still existed before coming here.
But he reasoned any creature would die without sustenance. If his dragon wouldn’t eat, surely it would perish. Perhaps if it stopped eating because of Luke, he could convince it to start eating, too.
How could he persuade a supposedly mythical being to do as he asked? Luke mulled the problem. It was his cries that seemingly halted the beast’s pursuit of his meals; perhaps the same tactic could be employed to reverse the action?
When mealtime arrived, Luke quickly accepted the meager offerings he was given, then watched the dragons’ feeding. Just like every night, his dragon walked towards the meal, but the prince suspected it only did so to clear the cell area, as was required for Luke to be fed. This time, Luke called out to the creature.
“Eat! I want you to eat! Please,” he implored, hoping the creature could somehow understand him. The dragon looked over to him, cocking its head again as if to listen. This time, when two cattle were pushed towards the dragons, both creatures (quite literally) tore into their meals.
Though appalled as usual by the gore of the scene, the prince was overwhelmed by a sense of relief. His dragon ate! It would be all right!
Just before he moved to step away, wishing to block out the sights and sounds of the cows’ distress, the prince was shocked when the larger dragon suddenly swiped out in fury at his dragon. Apparently, the other creature was no longer content with just one meal, and considered both animals his. Luke’s dragon reared up on its hind legs, and battled back.
After several minutes and injuries inflicted upon both beasts, the scuffle came to a close as the larger dragon lifted the smaller one, throwing it towards Luke’s cell. It smashed against the door with a heart-stopping crack.
“No!,” Luke screamed. The prince desperately tried to observe his dragon’s condition through the tiny window. The animal still breathed, at least, judging from the rise and fall of its chest.
Suddenly, a yellow eye appeared in the window. Luke jumped back in fright, but calmed as he realized the animal had simply lifted its head. The prince had never seen the beast from such proximity, and found himself enthralled.
At the knowledge the fault for the creature’s injuries lay with himself, Luke felt his face become wet, as tears of regret trailed down his cheeks. He had never meant to starve the beast, or cause it to be injured getting its meal. Yet for some reason, the dragon had stopped eating in deference to Luke, and that had been the result.
“I’m sorry,” he said sorrowfully, though he doubted the dragon could understand. Still, the beast had comprehended him perfectly twice before. Perhaps the prince could relate his regret, after all. “I’m so very sorry,” he repeated.
After a moment, the dragon’s head moved away. Defeated, Luke dropped to sit on the cot. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied movement in the dragon’s direction.
Frozen with equal parts fear and curiosity, the prince watched as what had to be his dragon’s snakelike tongue entered his cell through the small opening in the door. Transfixed, he saw the long tongue move ever closer, until it reached his face. It paused briefly, almost as if to signal that it meant no harm.
Then, to Luke’s shock, the tongue closed the remaining distance to lick away his tears. Surprisingly, once the prince realized what was happening, he was no longer afraid. Instead, the action - once on Luke’s right cheek, and once on his left - actually felt warm; comforting.
Its task completed, his dragon retreated, but remained close outside the cell. Knowing someone who cared about him was there, even if that someone was a giant terrifying-looking beast, Luke fell asleep quickly that evening. His dreams were only happy ones, of he and his dragon running free, all the way to his beloved Oakdale.
*****************************************************************************
Tonight would begin their new life. The prince didn’t know what it held, since he wasn’t exactly sure where in the world he could find a safe place to take his dragon friend. But first things first.
The morning after Luke’s dragon had been assaulted by the other beast, then comforted him in his cell, Luke realized the creature was just as much of a prisoner as he was. That was unacceptable. He couldn’t allow this kind, noble creature to suffer any longer.
From that moment on, the prince formed a plan. He wasn’t a nobody in the world, after all. He had connections on the outside, if only he could reach them.
The hardest part was choosing which guard to try and enlist in his escape. Neither seemed to have an ounce of compassion, so Luke opted for the one he judged to have a slightly more mercenary gleam in his eye. Luke spent days convincing the man that he was, in fact, Prince Luciano of Oakdale, and that helping him would make the guard so wealthy, he’d never again be relegated to dragon-sitting duty.
The man must have taken Luke’s suggestion to do some research to confirm his story, because he finally approached the prince with demands. It was millions, of course, but nothing he couldn’t manage. The two men hashed out the details, and the man allowed Luke the use of a carrier pigeon to send instructions to his financial institution for a down payment to the guard for his assistance.
Of course, there was the chance the guard could simply accept the initial million, then leave Luke to rot in his dungeon, anyway. But the prince put his faith in the man’s greed for more. That faith proved founded when finally, the night arrived for Luke’s release.
Naturally, Luke didn’t tell the guard the most notable item on his to-do list. Release his dragon. He knew even the mere suggestion would torpedo all his efforts.
When the guard came to deliver his meal, Luke was ready. The plan they’d outlined was for the prince to push his way out of the cell when his meal was delivered, “assaulting” the guard to apparently disable the man in the process. Of course, Luke knew he’d have no chance for such an action if the man wasn’t in on it, since he’d be too vigilant to give Luke such an opportunity.
But with the guard’s... well, guard down, Luke would be able to truly act against him. He felt little guilt at double-crossing a man who’d helped imprison him. And he knew the man would never agree to the release of the dragon; that had become the formerly spoiled prince’s primary goal.
As the door to his cell opened, Luke gripped the metal pot, ready to strike. Expecting a mock tussle, the guard was quickly felled when Luke brought the pot crashing over the man’s head. He speedily relieved the guard of his keys, praying the largest was the answer to unlocking his dragon’s shackles.
Exiting the cell for the first time in two weeks, Luke ran at a breakneck pace towards the dragons. His own dragon immediately sensed his approach, and quickly turned away from its impending meal to run to Luke. The prince briefly thought what if all this time, it really only wanted to eat me? before dismissing the idea as he continued his pursuit.
Meanwhile, the second guard realized that the prisoner had escaped his cell. Still, he wasn’t going within striking distance of the dragons to attempt to retrieve either his fellow guard, or the clearly insane prince. He released the two lambs for the dragons’ meal, then hurried upstairs and out of the castle to seek assistance. He assumed he could return for his colleague without much trouble the next morning, and that the prince was done for within the dragons’ reach, anyway.
Luke reached his dragon and speedily grasped the lock on the chain, mumbling a soft please, just in case any god anywhere was listening and gave a damn. Miraculously, as he turned the key, the lock made a clicking sound, and his dragon’s shackles fell away. The prince beamed up at the creature, only to be horrified by the sight of the larger dragon preparing to attack it from behind.
Unthinking, Luke ran around his dragon, ridiculously trying to shield it from another assault. The larger dragon reached out to swipe at Luke, but was thwarted just in time by the smaller beast, who launched itself at the other dragon, sending them both tumbling. As the two creatures fought, Luke furiously searched for something he could use to try and help.
The dragons’ aggression escalated. Finally, in almost slow-motion, Luke watched in horror as each creature struck a terrible blow upon the other, each drawing their claws deep into the other’s chest. Simultaneously, both beasts seemed to realize their own doom, and dropped to the ground, each bleeding profusely.
The larger combatant expired almost immediately, his last breath haggard, pained. Frantically, Luke rushed to his dragon’s side, as the creature struggled for air in halted, gasping breaths. “Please,” Luke begged, his tears unrestrained. “I did this for you. Please, please don’t die. Don’t leave me. You’re free now!”
Luke placed his hands on the dragon’s face, though because of its size he could only reach one side. Its skin was cool and rough to the touch. “I’m so sorry,” he continued. “I only meant to help you; to free you! Please hang on. Please.” Luke stopped, unable to continue speaking through his sobs.
The beast’s head turned to gaze at Luke intently with both yellow eyes. The dragon almost seemed to smile at him, before slowly closing its lids, and taking its final breath. “No,” Luke pleaded helplessly. “No, no, no-”
Suddenly, the air surrounding the prince and the lifeless body of the dragon seemed to change. As Luke watched, it seemed to visibly move. He knew that didn’t make sense, but neither did the fact he was on his knees crying over his late dragon friend.
Without warning, the dragon’s body was lifted - by what, Luke didn’t know - from the dungeon floor. Transfixed, he watched as the dragon was bathed in a shimmering light, and its form began to change. Unbelieving of what he was seeing, Luke sat stock-still until the transformation was complete, the body once again gently lowered by some inexplicable force.
Luke processed the new reality slowly. The body was not that of a dragon. It was a man.
A young man.
A young, beautiful man.
A young, beautiful, breathing man.
A young, beautiful, breathing, naked man.
Oh, my.
*****************************************************************************
The dark-haired man’s eyes were closed. Luke drank in the planes and contours of his lean, fit body. He was afraid to speak, but finally worked up the courage, asking the impossible.
“Dragon?”
Slowly, the eyes opened. They were bluer than the sunniest sky over Snyder Pond, and Luke mused that he would rather swim in them, anyway. But more significantly, the eyes held recognition, and something more.
Something much more, Luke thought, his heart pounding hard inside his chest.
“Yes,” the boy finally answered, gifting the young prince with the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever seen. “You saved me. Thank you.”
Luke shook his head in confusion. “What? How? I almost got you killed!”
The boy shifted, trying to sit up. Luke quickly reached out to help, and felt an immediate jolt of excitement as his fingers made contact with skin. From the gasp that emitted from the other man, Luke knew he’d felt it, too.
Luke didn’t release the boy’s arm after assisting him. He didn’t want to let go, ever. He didn’t understand why he was so drawn to this... creature?
But he didn’t care. He only knew that whatever happened, he would follow the other boy anywhere. Provided he let him.
“You broke the spell,” the boy explained. Seeing Luke’s confusion deepen, he related the story of how he came to be a dragon. “My father was not a kind man. Finally, he crossed the wrong person - a witch, as it turned out.”
“Those still exist?” Luke was incredulous.
“I didn’t know dragons still existed, until I became one,” the boy laughed. “Anyway, the witch cast a cruelty spell at him, but I tried to push him out of the way. Instead, it got us both.”
“Your father was the other dragon?” Luke’s heart sank in comprehension. “He didn’t seem very grateful. He was horrible to you! I wish you’d never helped him.”
“I don’t,” the boy replied. “No matter what, he was my father. I would’ve regretted it for my whole life if I didn’t help him.”
Luke was awed by the young man’s selfless love towards a father that was clearly even worse than Damian Grimaldi.
“And of course, if I hadn’t been hit by the spell, too, I never would’ve met you,” the young man added shyly, his face reddening.
Luke felt ecstatic at the words. At the very least, the boy wasn’t angry with him, and was glad that they met! Still, he didn’t understand one thing.
“How do you think I saved you, though? All I seemed to do was get you starved, beat up, and finally, killed!” The prince shook his head at all the bad things that had happened to the dragon-boy since his own arrival.
“No, you broke the curse! The witch was sorry I’d been hit with the curse, too. She told me the only way a cruelty spell could be broken was if someone cared about the cursed person more than themselves. I thought that meant I could save my father, but the witch explained a cursed person could not heal another one.”
The boy looked at the prince as though he was a godsend, and continued the story. “My father and I were captured and brought here right away. I knew I was going to die here. Even if anyone found me, I was a dragon! Who could possibly care for me at all, let alone more than themselves?”
The boy’s words began to register with the young prince. He realized it was all true. He had only thought of escape when he opened his heart to the dragon’s plight, and resolved to free him. Before that, Luke had been at such a low point, disgusted with his mother and birth father and humanity in general.
When he’d been imprisoned, Luke had been selfish and spoiled, because caring about others had caused him so much hurt. He’d learned to erect defenses around his heart, and to hurt others before they could hurt him. Eventually, acting out in cruelty was like a drug. It took him away for awhile, before the inevitable crash that shot him right back into depression and loneliness.
The prince was immediately ashamed of himself, and told the boy the whole sordid story of how he’d come to be imprisoned. As much as the young man had somehow become integral in Luke’s life, he didn’t want the other boy to care for him under false pretenses. Luke took a breath as he concluded his story, and awaited the judgment that would necessarily come.
“I was wrong. You didn't save me,” the boy finally said, staring at Luke intently, just as he had in dragon form. “You saved us both.”
Luke couldn’t believe the understanding and acceptance he’d received after sharing his shameful tale. He realized what the boy said was true. They were both free now all because Luke had allowed himself to care for someone else again.
“You saved me, too,” he answered, knowing it was the truth. If not for his dragon showing compassion from that very first night, what would ever have motivated the young prince to change his heart? He knew he owed everything to the man sitting before him now.
Luke then addressed his friend formally. “I am Prince Luciano of Oakdale, but you may call me Luke. I invite you to accompany me to my home. Or if you prefer to return to yours, I request that I be allowed to accompany you. I do not wish to be... separated.”
Luke trembled as he awaited the reply. He knew whatever the boy said, it would determine the path of Luke’s life. Maybe the boy was simply grateful, but did not feel the strength of connection between them that the prince did.
“I am Noah of Branson. In all the world, I am certain; the only home I have lies with you.” Once again, the boy - Noah - smiled, big and bright and promising forever. He leaned towards Luke, and when Luke understood was what coming, he quickly moved away.
“Not yet,” the prince explained apologetically. “I smell atrocious.”
Noah of Branson laughed, a warm sound that wrapped Luke within its joy. They left the castle together; one clothed, one - not so much. Luke didn’t mind.
They slept in a meadow, and bathed in a warm, babbling stream the next morning, lying side by side in the sun to dry. Soon, though, the prince could contain himself no more, and rolled until he lay atop Noah. Instantly, Noah’s hands rose up to hold him there, and finally, their heads moved close until their lips were softly touching.
After that, Noah rolled them over, so that Luke was pinned beneath him, breathless and beautiful. They communicated wordlessly, Luke beseeching Noah, and Noah gladly complying. When they joined together as one, the young royal thanked the fates that he’d found his very own prince.
The finally arrived in Oakdale after an arduous but blissful journey. Luckily, they had procured clothing for Noah along the way, so he wouldn’t have to meet the Earl of Snyder in the nude. Unfortunately, in a way, he did.
The couple walked into the living room to find Holden, but discovered him minus clothing, and plus an equally garb-challenged Duke of Oliver. “Dad!” Luke screamed in horror, just as the earl and the duke both sent their own screams of ecstasy into the heavens. Upon spying Luke, the men quickly scrambled into their clothing.
The doctor finished first, and approached Luke, the fear in his eyes palpable. “Please,” he begged the prince sadly. “Let me tell him. I know you won’t believe this, but I’ve fallen in love with him. I’m not the same man. Please; if I have to lose him, at least let me be the one to tell him what I did...”
The other man broke off, swallowing down the emotion that visibly threatened. His eyes teared up, and Luke actually believed the healer was telling the truth. Somehow, the duke had gone from being a complete asshole to ... well, probably still an asshole, but one who very much loved his father.
“Tell me what?” Holden approached the other men, red-faced to have been caught in the throes of passion, but otherwise happy - if perplexed - to see his son. As Reid opened his mouth to confess, Luke couldn’t do it. After what Holden had been through with Lily, Luke couldn’t just let his father be heartbroken all over again.
“Tell you that I’m cured!” The prince felt that was technically true, anyway. And if not for the duke, Luke never would have met Noah, so there was that. “He wanted to surprise you, but I guess we’re a little early, and surprised you both - sorry about that,” Luke quickly finished, not wanting to relive that visual anytime soon.
“Oh, son!” Holden embraced Luke enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you! I hated sending you away. I’ve missed you every day, and to have you back so soon - what a blessing!”
Noticing the quiet young man at Luke’s side, Holden pulled out of the embrace. “And who’s this?” He beamed warmly at their guest.
“This is Noah of Branson. I met him at the... clinic,” Luke improvised. “And... I love him.”
Holden started for a moment, shocked his previously self-involved son would arrive home after only a few weeks’ treatment proclaiming his love for another. He was overjoyed; the boy’s narcissism was surely cured!
Before young Noah even knew what was happening, Luke’s father was pulling him into a firm hug. “Welcome, Noah! You must be a very special young man, indeed. And I suspect a significant aid in my son's healing. Thank you for helping him!”
“You’re welcome, sir.” Noah was amazed at the difference between Luke’s father and his own. He was happy to know Luke grew up with love; not like himself.
“No, you are welcome. And please, call me Holden. Our home is yours now, too. I hope you find great happiness within its walls.”
Looking at Luke, his heart bursting with love, Noah smiled. “I already have. More than I ever dreamed of!”
And they all lived happily ever after.
Author: random_nic
Characters: Holden, Luke, Noah, Reid
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Don't get too attached to any furry creatures in this story.
Word Count: 5652
Summary: AU to the point of blasphemy. Holden seeks the help of a healer when his royal son becomes a royal pain.
Notes: Written for the prompt Dungeons and Dragons by aspirwriter at the what-did-you-do lj
Disclaimer: I blatantly steal characters, ideas, and clichés that do not belong to me. Allow me to apologize in advance to everyone everywhere.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a land far, far away - Illinois, to be precise - there lived a handsome young prince. Luciano of Oakdale was much beloved in his tiny village, and his joie de vivre and unparalleled blonde beauty were renowned throughout the Land of Lincoln. Prince Luke spent a happy childhood surrounded by caring family and friends. He was also blessed with great riches, courtesy of his family ties to both the Empire of Walsh, and the House of Grimaldi.
As Luke neared adulthood, he became spoiled and selfish. He routinely engaged in mean-spirited taunting and cruel pranks. He even pretended to court young ladies, then abandoned them in laughter once they disrobed to offer him their maidenhood.
Word of the prince’s cruelty spread, and his father Holden - the Earl of Snyder - became especially concerned with this development. He sought the counsel of a local healer, the Duke of Oliver. Holden implored, “what can be done to cure my son of this grievous affliction?”
Unbeknownst to the prince’s father, his son had previously garnered the duke’s ire by sling-shotting rocks at his expensive chariot simply for sport. Now that the opportunity for revenge had presented itself, the duke resolved to grasp it. “This is a most grave development, my lord. The infection of narcissism roots itself quickly, and spreads without restraint if left untreated. In short, if we do not immediately take action, you son will most certainly become... a royal ass.”
The earl gasped, horrified. “No... anything but that! The same disease already claimed his birth father. I cannot bear to watch my poor son suffer the same sorry fate!”
The Duke of Oliver placed a hand on the earl’s shoulder in a seemingly consoling fashion. “Please, my lord; fear not. I have recently received word of an experimental program showing great success in healing this very disorder. It will necessitate great sacrifice on your part, for the procedure requires many moons to take effect. But if you will entrust your son to my care, when next you lay eyes upon him, he shall be an entirely new man.”
Holden was hesitant to see his son removed from his own care. He loved the child as his own, even in light of the prince’s recent behavior. Still, the earl could not deny his son the remedy the boy needed simply because he would miss him too much.
“Where is this facility? May I visit the boy?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” the duke answered quickly. “Any connections to his past during treatment could cause your son to relapse, and eradicate his progress. The program your son needs is located in the hamlet of Springfield.”
The Earl of Snyder balked. “I thought Springfield was decimated by the same villains trying to destroy Oakdale?” Indeed, their own village had been under attack by all manner of inexplicable creatures, including seemingly incestuous twins, a giant talking clown doll, and a pompous, scarf-wielding film professor.
“It is true, the town was damaged in the battle,” Oliver answered. “But Springfield survives, and has begun the rebuilding efforts. This medical clinic is a beacon of their renaissance. Your son will be perfectly safe in its care.”
Reassured, the earl stood to address the healer. “I cannot thank you enough. Please accept my best stallion as a token of my gratitude. You have restored the hope I feared was lost forever.” Overcome with relief, Holden impulsively embraced the other man.
Playing along, the duke returned the embrace. As his arms wound around the earl’s waist, however, he could not fail to appreciate the solid strength under his fingertips, and the enticing, masculine scent of the other man. “Mmm,” he murmured, then immediately realized his mistake.
“Excuse me?” The Earl of Snyder pulled back, regarding the other man quizzically.
“I apologize,” the duke hastily explained. “I was concentrating on your son’s treatment, of course. I think it in his best interest that we meet on a weekly basis, so I can update you on his most recent progress.”
“Oh, thank you!” Holden was elated to receive such wonderful care for his son from the famed physician. “I cannot imagine your schedule easily allows time for such appointments.”
“I shall make the time,” the doctor responded. After all, I plan to make it worth my while. “I would not want you to be troubled with worry for your son, my lord.”
“Your kindness is boundless, Doctor. I insist that you choose appointment times for your convenience. My schedule is fluid now, since my wayward wife has absconded to the Isle of Malta to conduct her infidelities. And please; address me by my first name.” Holden extended a hand in friendship, and the duke shook it leisurely.
Still firmly grasping the earl’s hand, the devious physician warmly replied, “Agreed. If you will address me as Reid.” With any luck, the doctor would rid Oakdale of its royal nuisance and bed the brat’s desirable father within a fortnight.
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It all began when Luke’s well-meaning father took him to the most prominent local healer, concerned at his behavior. Luke was sure the physician still nursed a grudge over one of his harmless pranks when the man diagnosed him with “narcissism,” and convinced Holden to send him away for treatment. Still, the prince was unperturbed. He was tired of Oakdale, anyway. The change of scene was welcome.
Luke had wanted to get away from it all. His nefarious bio dad Damian had recently blown into town, just long enough to feign affection for Luke, using the charade to instead woo his faithless mother Lily back to Malta. A few weeks at some posh rehab center to decompress in the aftermath would hardly kill him.
If only the young royal had known what truly lay in store for him. Instead of hobnobbing with other fashionable nobles and assorted celebrities in a swanky spa, Luke found himself transported to a decaying, gloomy castle, visible only due to the circling light emanating from its tower. The carriage even had to await the lowering of the drawbridge in order to safely cross the moat of boiling lava.
Such was the power of Luke’s trust in Holden - his real father, for all intents and purposes - that it did not occur to him to attempt escape before the crossing. He knew whatever this place was, Holden had sent him there with the purest of intentions. Even surrounded by bleakness, the prince did not feel alarmed until the Duke of Oliver, who had accompanied him, spoke.
“Your days of terrorizing Oakdale are at an end,” the doctor said tauntingly. “Your days, period, may not be far behind. Welcome to your new home, your Highness. May you rot here.”
With that, two burly henchman (Luke certainly wouldn’t classify such thugs as “orderlies”) dragged Luke away, to the delighted, mocking laughter of the duke. Finally, Luke realized his predicament. He was not a patient, but a prisoner.
Terrified, Luke struggled in earnest against his captors. It was no use. He was tall and fit, but still no match for such adversaries.
Luke cried out in vain to the heavens. “Oh, pitiless gods, why hast ye abandoned me?” (All right, so the prince could be a bit melodramatic at times).
Despite the futility, Luke continued to fight as he was dragged down into the bowels of the fortress. His kicks and screams halted, however, when they arrived at the lowest level - the dungeons. It wasn’t the visual confirmation of his plight that caused his sudden stillness, but rather the sight of those apparently charged with insuring his imprisonment.
Two very large, very angry-looking, very real dragons.
The larger dragon sniffed the air, snapping its head in Luke’s direction upon catching his scent. Immediately, it went airborne, and lurched in the prince’s direction. Thankfully, the beast was brought up short by a heavy chain shackled around its ankle.
The fearsome creature reared its head, expelling a loud roar of frustration. For the first time, genuine fear crept into Luke’s heart. Not only was he a prisoner; any thought of escape was impossible.
Unless the prince’s father figured out that he’d been tricked, the Duke of Oliver’s wish would likely come true. Luke was going to die here. Fearing his fate, Luke began to quietly cry.
Meanwhile, one of his escorts distracted the dragons with their evening meal - two frightened, trembling deer. He led the creatures by rope to the other side of the room, just out of reach of the dragons, who both moved towards the doomed animals. With the path clear, the other brawny captor dragged a once-again thrashing Luke to his cell. The prince had erroneously thought his chances with a sole captor might improve, but his hopes were dashed when he was easily tossed into a dungeon cell.
The heavy who’d imprisoned him retreated back to the stairwell. Once he was clear of the dragons’ range, the other thug pushed the live meals forward, into the clutches of the hungry beasts. Luke watched through the tiny window-shaped hole in the door of his cell, as each gentle animal was brutally consumed, their wretched cries of terror and pain assaulting Luke’s ears.
“STOP!” he screamed, as if he could somehow reason with the ravenous creatures. Nevermind that at the first piercing bites, the deer were better off dead, anyway. The prince was shocked, then, when one of the dragons actually did cease its attack. Instead, it turned, and regarded Luke’s face through the tiny window, cocking its head almost sympathetically.
Of course, that was ridiculous, Luke told himself. He had simply distracted the dragon, who likely wasn’t accustomed to hearing voices, since there seemed to be no other prisoners in the dungeons. And Luke hadn’t accomplished anything apart from depriving the beast of its meal, since its larger companion simply scarfed down the second doe, as well.
Still, the other dragon continued to stare at Luke. The young prince was shaking and sobbing at the bloodbath he’d just witnessed, yet he couldn’t look away. He felt as entranced by the beast as it seemed to be with him.
After a few minutes, Luke’s exhaustion from the traumatic events of the day overtook him. His eyelids drooped, closing for seconds at a time more than once. Incredibly, the smaller dragon seemed to sense the prince’s fatigue, and curled up on the cold, stone floor.
The beast didn’t stop watching Luke, though. It almost seemed to be waiting for him to follow suit. Experimentally, Luke stepped away from the door, then waited a few moments.
Sure enough, when Luke went to the window to look again, the creature had closed its eyes. It must have sensed Luke’s return, however; its lids opened almost immediately upon Luke’s reappearance. Luke was amazed to feel a smile form across his face.
The prince nodded, then moved out of sight once again. He laid down on the only piece of furniture in his cell; a hard cot that made Luke question whether the stone floor was a better option. Unbeknownst to him, the smaller dragon’s eyes remained on the cell for a quarter of an hour, insuring the boy was asleep before allowing itself to rest.
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Thin streaks of sunlight shone dully through the cracks in his dingy cell. Prince Luke groaned as he awoke, his muscles sore from the unforgiving floor, the realization of another day of confinement sinking in. In truth, the young prince wasn’t certain exactly how many days his imprisonment had continued.
He possessed not even a rock to mark the passage of time with. The only item in his cell, save his cot and the (now-rancid) clothes on his back was the silver pot provided to answer nature’s calls. Paltry nourishment was provided once daily, at the same time as the dragons’ meal, so their prey could be used to lure them away from the cell long enough for the prince’s food to be delivered.
If Luke was lucky, the old pot was removed and a new one was provided, but that only happened every few days. Meaning, between the stench of his own cell and the proceedings outside of it, in which defenseless animals were savagely sacrificed, Luke barely ate. Still, he did observe something of note.
The smaller dragon never ate. Luke was sure he’d been a prisoner at least a week, yet from the moment he had cried out on the first night, attempting to stop the carnage, the dragon simply didn’t touch whatever meal it was provided. Of course, the second animal wasn’t spared, since the other dragon always greedily consumed it.
Luke began to feel guilty. His dragon - he thought of it that way now, if only to differentiate from the other dragon - had become more listless as the days passed. Luke didn’t know much about dragons, especially since he hadn’t realized they still existed before coming here.
But he reasoned any creature would die without sustenance. If his dragon wouldn’t eat, surely it would perish. Perhaps if it stopped eating because of Luke, he could convince it to start eating, too.
How could he persuade a supposedly mythical being to do as he asked? Luke mulled the problem. It was his cries that seemingly halted the beast’s pursuit of his meals; perhaps the same tactic could be employed to reverse the action?
When mealtime arrived, Luke quickly accepted the meager offerings he was given, then watched the dragons’ feeding. Just like every night, his dragon walked towards the meal, but the prince suspected it only did so to clear the cell area, as was required for Luke to be fed. This time, Luke called out to the creature.
“Eat! I want you to eat! Please,” he implored, hoping the creature could somehow understand him. The dragon looked over to him, cocking its head again as if to listen. This time, when two cattle were pushed towards the dragons, both creatures (quite literally) tore into their meals.
Though appalled as usual by the gore of the scene, the prince was overwhelmed by a sense of relief. His dragon ate! It would be all right!
Just before he moved to step away, wishing to block out the sights and sounds of the cows’ distress, the prince was shocked when the larger dragon suddenly swiped out in fury at his dragon. Apparently, the other creature was no longer content with just one meal, and considered both animals his. Luke’s dragon reared up on its hind legs, and battled back.
After several minutes and injuries inflicted upon both beasts, the scuffle came to a close as the larger dragon lifted the smaller one, throwing it towards Luke’s cell. It smashed against the door with a heart-stopping crack.
“No!,” Luke screamed. The prince desperately tried to observe his dragon’s condition through the tiny window. The animal still breathed, at least, judging from the rise and fall of its chest.
Suddenly, a yellow eye appeared in the window. Luke jumped back in fright, but calmed as he realized the animal had simply lifted its head. The prince had never seen the beast from such proximity, and found himself enthralled.
At the knowledge the fault for the creature’s injuries lay with himself, Luke felt his face become wet, as tears of regret trailed down his cheeks. He had never meant to starve the beast, or cause it to be injured getting its meal. Yet for some reason, the dragon had stopped eating in deference to Luke, and that had been the result.
“I’m sorry,” he said sorrowfully, though he doubted the dragon could understand. Still, the beast had comprehended him perfectly twice before. Perhaps the prince could relate his regret, after all. “I’m so very sorry,” he repeated.
After a moment, the dragon’s head moved away. Defeated, Luke dropped to sit on the cot. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied movement in the dragon’s direction.
Frozen with equal parts fear and curiosity, the prince watched as what had to be his dragon’s snakelike tongue entered his cell through the small opening in the door. Transfixed, he saw the long tongue move ever closer, until it reached his face. It paused briefly, almost as if to signal that it meant no harm.
Then, to Luke’s shock, the tongue closed the remaining distance to lick away his tears. Surprisingly, once the prince realized what was happening, he was no longer afraid. Instead, the action - once on Luke’s right cheek, and once on his left - actually felt warm; comforting.
Its task completed, his dragon retreated, but remained close outside the cell. Knowing someone who cared about him was there, even if that someone was a giant terrifying-looking beast, Luke fell asleep quickly that evening. His dreams were only happy ones, of he and his dragon running free, all the way to his beloved Oakdale.
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Tonight would begin their new life. The prince didn’t know what it held, since he wasn’t exactly sure where in the world he could find a safe place to take his dragon friend. But first things first.
The morning after Luke’s dragon had been assaulted by the other beast, then comforted him in his cell, Luke realized the creature was just as much of a prisoner as he was. That was unacceptable. He couldn’t allow this kind, noble creature to suffer any longer.
From that moment on, the prince formed a plan. He wasn’t a nobody in the world, after all. He had connections on the outside, if only he could reach them.
The hardest part was choosing which guard to try and enlist in his escape. Neither seemed to have an ounce of compassion, so Luke opted for the one he judged to have a slightly more mercenary gleam in his eye. Luke spent days convincing the man that he was, in fact, Prince Luciano of Oakdale, and that helping him would make the guard so wealthy, he’d never again be relegated to dragon-sitting duty.
The man must have taken Luke’s suggestion to do some research to confirm his story, because he finally approached the prince with demands. It was millions, of course, but nothing he couldn’t manage. The two men hashed out the details, and the man allowed Luke the use of a carrier pigeon to send instructions to his financial institution for a down payment to the guard for his assistance.
Of course, there was the chance the guard could simply accept the initial million, then leave Luke to rot in his dungeon, anyway. But the prince put his faith in the man’s greed for more. That faith proved founded when finally, the night arrived for Luke’s release.
Naturally, Luke didn’t tell the guard the most notable item on his to-do list. Release his dragon. He knew even the mere suggestion would torpedo all his efforts.
When the guard came to deliver his meal, Luke was ready. The plan they’d outlined was for the prince to push his way out of the cell when his meal was delivered, “assaulting” the guard to apparently disable the man in the process. Of course, Luke knew he’d have no chance for such an action if the man wasn’t in on it, since he’d be too vigilant to give Luke such an opportunity.
But with the guard’s... well, guard down, Luke would be able to truly act against him. He felt little guilt at double-crossing a man who’d helped imprison him. And he knew the man would never agree to the release of the dragon; that had become the formerly spoiled prince’s primary goal.
As the door to his cell opened, Luke gripped the metal pot, ready to strike. Expecting a mock tussle, the guard was quickly felled when Luke brought the pot crashing over the man’s head. He speedily relieved the guard of his keys, praying the largest was the answer to unlocking his dragon’s shackles.
Exiting the cell for the first time in two weeks, Luke ran at a breakneck pace towards the dragons. His own dragon immediately sensed his approach, and quickly turned away from its impending meal to run to Luke. The prince briefly thought what if all this time, it really only wanted to eat me? before dismissing the idea as he continued his pursuit.
Meanwhile, the second guard realized that the prisoner had escaped his cell. Still, he wasn’t going within striking distance of the dragons to attempt to retrieve either his fellow guard, or the clearly insane prince. He released the two lambs for the dragons’ meal, then hurried upstairs and out of the castle to seek assistance. He assumed he could return for his colleague without much trouble the next morning, and that the prince was done for within the dragons’ reach, anyway.
Luke reached his dragon and speedily grasped the lock on the chain, mumbling a soft please, just in case any god anywhere was listening and gave a damn. Miraculously, as he turned the key, the lock made a clicking sound, and his dragon’s shackles fell away. The prince beamed up at the creature, only to be horrified by the sight of the larger dragon preparing to attack it from behind.
Unthinking, Luke ran around his dragon, ridiculously trying to shield it from another assault. The larger dragon reached out to swipe at Luke, but was thwarted just in time by the smaller beast, who launched itself at the other dragon, sending them both tumbling. As the two creatures fought, Luke furiously searched for something he could use to try and help.
The dragons’ aggression escalated. Finally, in almost slow-motion, Luke watched in horror as each creature struck a terrible blow upon the other, each drawing their claws deep into the other’s chest. Simultaneously, both beasts seemed to realize their own doom, and dropped to the ground, each bleeding profusely.
The larger combatant expired almost immediately, his last breath haggard, pained. Frantically, Luke rushed to his dragon’s side, as the creature struggled for air in halted, gasping breaths. “Please,” Luke begged, his tears unrestrained. “I did this for you. Please, please don’t die. Don’t leave me. You’re free now!”
Luke placed his hands on the dragon’s face, though because of its size he could only reach one side. Its skin was cool and rough to the touch. “I’m so sorry,” he continued. “I only meant to help you; to free you! Please hang on. Please.” Luke stopped, unable to continue speaking through his sobs.
The beast’s head turned to gaze at Luke intently with both yellow eyes. The dragon almost seemed to smile at him, before slowly closing its lids, and taking its final breath. “No,” Luke pleaded helplessly. “No, no, no-”
Suddenly, the air surrounding the prince and the lifeless body of the dragon seemed to change. As Luke watched, it seemed to visibly move. He knew that didn’t make sense, but neither did the fact he was on his knees crying over his late dragon friend.
Without warning, the dragon’s body was lifted - by what, Luke didn’t know - from the dungeon floor. Transfixed, he watched as the dragon was bathed in a shimmering light, and its form began to change. Unbelieving of what he was seeing, Luke sat stock-still until the transformation was complete, the body once again gently lowered by some inexplicable force.
Luke processed the new reality slowly. The body was not that of a dragon. It was a man.
A young man.
A young, beautiful man.
A young, beautiful, breathing man.
A young, beautiful, breathing, naked man.
Oh, my.
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The dark-haired man’s eyes were closed. Luke drank in the planes and contours of his lean, fit body. He was afraid to speak, but finally worked up the courage, asking the impossible.
“Dragon?”
Slowly, the eyes opened. They were bluer than the sunniest sky over Snyder Pond, and Luke mused that he would rather swim in them, anyway. But more significantly, the eyes held recognition, and something more.
Something much more, Luke thought, his heart pounding hard inside his chest.
“Yes,” the boy finally answered, gifting the young prince with the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever seen. “You saved me. Thank you.”
Luke shook his head in confusion. “What? How? I almost got you killed!”
The boy shifted, trying to sit up. Luke quickly reached out to help, and felt an immediate jolt of excitement as his fingers made contact with skin. From the gasp that emitted from the other man, Luke knew he’d felt it, too.
Luke didn’t release the boy’s arm after assisting him. He didn’t want to let go, ever. He didn’t understand why he was so drawn to this... creature?
But he didn’t care. He only knew that whatever happened, he would follow the other boy anywhere. Provided he let him.
“You broke the spell,” the boy explained. Seeing Luke’s confusion deepen, he related the story of how he came to be a dragon. “My father was not a kind man. Finally, he crossed the wrong person - a witch, as it turned out.”
“Those still exist?” Luke was incredulous.
“I didn’t know dragons still existed, until I became one,” the boy laughed. “Anyway, the witch cast a cruelty spell at him, but I tried to push him out of the way. Instead, it got us both.”
“Your father was the other dragon?” Luke’s heart sank in comprehension. “He didn’t seem very grateful. He was horrible to you! I wish you’d never helped him.”
“I don’t,” the boy replied. “No matter what, he was my father. I would’ve regretted it for my whole life if I didn’t help him.”
Luke was awed by the young man’s selfless love towards a father that was clearly even worse than Damian Grimaldi.
“And of course, if I hadn’t been hit by the spell, too, I never would’ve met you,” the young man added shyly, his face reddening.
Luke felt ecstatic at the words. At the very least, the boy wasn’t angry with him, and was glad that they met! Still, he didn’t understand one thing.
“How do you think I saved you, though? All I seemed to do was get you starved, beat up, and finally, killed!” The prince shook his head at all the bad things that had happened to the dragon-boy since his own arrival.
“No, you broke the curse! The witch was sorry I’d been hit with the curse, too. She told me the only way a cruelty spell could be broken was if someone cared about the cursed person more than themselves. I thought that meant I could save my father, but the witch explained a cursed person could not heal another one.”
The boy looked at the prince as though he was a godsend, and continued the story. “My father and I were captured and brought here right away. I knew I was going to die here. Even if anyone found me, I was a dragon! Who could possibly care for me at all, let alone more than themselves?”
The boy’s words began to register with the young prince. He realized it was all true. He had only thought of escape when he opened his heart to the dragon’s plight, and resolved to free him. Before that, Luke had been at such a low point, disgusted with his mother and birth father and humanity in general.
When he’d been imprisoned, Luke had been selfish and spoiled, because caring about others had caused him so much hurt. He’d learned to erect defenses around his heart, and to hurt others before they could hurt him. Eventually, acting out in cruelty was like a drug. It took him away for awhile, before the inevitable crash that shot him right back into depression and loneliness.
The prince was immediately ashamed of himself, and told the boy the whole sordid story of how he’d come to be imprisoned. As much as the young man had somehow become integral in Luke’s life, he didn’t want the other boy to care for him under false pretenses. Luke took a breath as he concluded his story, and awaited the judgment that would necessarily come.
“I was wrong. You didn't save me,” the boy finally said, staring at Luke intently, just as he had in dragon form. “You saved us both.”
Luke couldn’t believe the understanding and acceptance he’d received after sharing his shameful tale. He realized what the boy said was true. They were both free now all because Luke had allowed himself to care for someone else again.
“You saved me, too,” he answered, knowing it was the truth. If not for his dragon showing compassion from that very first night, what would ever have motivated the young prince to change his heart? He knew he owed everything to the man sitting before him now.
Luke then addressed his friend formally. “I am Prince Luciano of Oakdale, but you may call me Luke. I invite you to accompany me to my home. Or if you prefer to return to yours, I request that I be allowed to accompany you. I do not wish to be... separated.”
Luke trembled as he awaited the reply. He knew whatever the boy said, it would determine the path of Luke’s life. Maybe the boy was simply grateful, but did not feel the strength of connection between them that the prince did.
“I am Noah of Branson. In all the world, I am certain; the only home I have lies with you.” Once again, the boy - Noah - smiled, big and bright and promising forever. He leaned towards Luke, and when Luke understood was what coming, he quickly moved away.
“Not yet,” the prince explained apologetically. “I smell atrocious.”
Noah of Branson laughed, a warm sound that wrapped Luke within its joy. They left the castle together; one clothed, one - not so much. Luke didn’t mind.
They slept in a meadow, and bathed in a warm, babbling stream the next morning, lying side by side in the sun to dry. Soon, though, the prince could contain himself no more, and rolled until he lay atop Noah. Instantly, Noah’s hands rose up to hold him there, and finally, their heads moved close until their lips were softly touching.
After that, Noah rolled them over, so that Luke was pinned beneath him, breathless and beautiful. They communicated wordlessly, Luke beseeching Noah, and Noah gladly complying. When they joined together as one, the young royal thanked the fates that he’d found his very own prince.
The finally arrived in Oakdale after an arduous but blissful journey. Luckily, they had procured clothing for Noah along the way, so he wouldn’t have to meet the Earl of Snyder in the nude. Unfortunately, in a way, he did.
The couple walked into the living room to find Holden, but discovered him minus clothing, and plus an equally garb-challenged Duke of Oliver. “Dad!” Luke screamed in horror, just as the earl and the duke both sent their own screams of ecstasy into the heavens. Upon spying Luke, the men quickly scrambled into their clothing.
The doctor finished first, and approached Luke, the fear in his eyes palpable. “Please,” he begged the prince sadly. “Let me tell him. I know you won’t believe this, but I’ve fallen in love with him. I’m not the same man. Please; if I have to lose him, at least let me be the one to tell him what I did...”
The other man broke off, swallowing down the emotion that visibly threatened. His eyes teared up, and Luke actually believed the healer was telling the truth. Somehow, the duke had gone from being a complete asshole to ... well, probably still an asshole, but one who very much loved his father.
“Tell me what?” Holden approached the other men, red-faced to have been caught in the throes of passion, but otherwise happy - if perplexed - to see his son. As Reid opened his mouth to confess, Luke couldn’t do it. After what Holden had been through with Lily, Luke couldn’t just let his father be heartbroken all over again.
“Tell you that I’m cured!” The prince felt that was technically true, anyway. And if not for the duke, Luke never would have met Noah, so there was that. “He wanted to surprise you, but I guess we’re a little early, and surprised you both - sorry about that,” Luke quickly finished, not wanting to relive that visual anytime soon.
“Oh, son!” Holden embraced Luke enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you! I hated sending you away. I’ve missed you every day, and to have you back so soon - what a blessing!”
Noticing the quiet young man at Luke’s side, Holden pulled out of the embrace. “And who’s this?” He beamed warmly at their guest.
“This is Noah of Branson. I met him at the... clinic,” Luke improvised. “And... I love him.”
Holden started for a moment, shocked his previously self-involved son would arrive home after only a few weeks’ treatment proclaiming his love for another. He was overjoyed; the boy’s narcissism was surely cured!
Before young Noah even knew what was happening, Luke’s father was pulling him into a firm hug. “Welcome, Noah! You must be a very special young man, indeed. And I suspect a significant aid in my son's healing. Thank you for helping him!”
“You’re welcome, sir.” Noah was amazed at the difference between Luke’s father and his own. He was happy to know Luke grew up with love; not like himself.
“No, you are welcome. And please, call me Holden. Our home is yours now, too. I hope you find great happiness within its walls.”
Looking at Luke, his heart bursting with love, Noah smiled. “I already have. More than I ever dreamed of!”
And they all lived happily ever after.