The Burned Prince

“Wake up, your highness.”

An icy splash of water shocked the prince awake. Laughing voices jibed at him for not liking the cold. He looked through bloodied eyes and saw several soldiers wearing grey-black armor, stained red with blood and covered in filth, standing around him, jeering. The sky outside had turned a dull sunset orange as it filled with smoke from the burning city. Looking down, he recognized the courtyard outside. He was back at the palace, inside the great hall where his father had announced his marriage to all the lords.

He tried to stand, but the ropes tied around his hands and feet pulled him back down, and his arm ached with pain. The men laughed at his struggle and goaded him to try again.

“Oh! Look. Who’s. Up,” a man’s voice said, pausing between each word. Chen looked toward the voice and saw another soldier strutting toward him. His armor was clearly different from the others: made of a superior quality, and polished to a high sheen. He didn’t recognize him, but the pretense behind his poise and the manner with which he presented himself were clear signs of his noble status.

“What am I doing here?” the prince asked. “Why am I tied like this?”

The lord stopped and looked down at the prince, judging him with his eyes, and grinned. “For your protection, of course.”

“What protection is this? What are these soldiers doing here? Where are my guards?”

The men giggled. The lord glanced over his shoulder. “Them? They are my trusted guardsmen. They will follow my orders and defend their emperor with their lives.”

“My father?” said Chen, thinking of the emperor. “Where is he?”

“Your father?” the gentleman said. “Oh, yes. Him. I’m sorry, but dear old Kuang won’t be able to glorify us with his presence today.”

The prince was taken aback. It was a grave offense to use the emperor’s name without a proper form of address. They were openly insulting the sovereign’s honor. Chen squinted and stared up at the lord. “The emperor. Bring me to him. Now.”

The soldiers snickered, and the lord huffed. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, and smacked his lips. One of the others leaned forward. “Daddy’s not gonna help you,” he said, heartlessly. “Best get used to it.”

The slow realization dawned on the prince. He didn’t want to say the words, but now he knew. “No,” was all he could say, still in disbelief.

A villainous smile stretched over the lord’s face. “No surprise. You were no different from that dog headed fool. Always slow to recognize threats around him. Even when they were right in front of him.”

Chen’s eyes dashed frantically from side-to-side, trying to take it in. Could his father really be dead? How did these barbarians get into the city so easily? How could this happen? Did someone betray them? Was this the prophecy foretold in his dreams? Was it all coming true? He didn’t know the answers to any of these questions. It was all happening so fast.

“You see, there are going to be some changes. With that witless dolt gone, there’ll be new ways of running things around here.”

What gave him the gall to speak like that? Such brazen disrespect for the sovereign would have been punishable by death. The Emperor’s deputies would have seen to it. But where were they now? All gone.

The prince lifted his head. “My father was a great man. He devoted his whole life to serving the people.”

The gentleman did not react reflexively, but gauged his temper with cool collectedness. “Yes, of course,” he said, turning his nose up. He stretched his shoulders out and clasped his hands behind his back. “His Holy Benevolence was motivated solely by charity and self-sacrifice,” he said, as he paced back and forth. “He lived only for the good of his people and love of country. Just as the heralds cried of his deeds. The stewards and scribes in their letters. The builders with their mighty monuments. The poets in their prose.”

He stopped in front of Chen and turned sharply, swiping his hand down as if cutting through the air. “All liars! Bare evangelists for the false doctrine of imperial divinity.”

“No!” Chen roared. “My father was more righteous than any king. He was chosen by the immortals to hold Heaven’s mandate and rule the whole world.”

“Hah!” he blared. “Your father. Bearer of the divine mandate. Illustrious Son of Heaven. More concerned with securing praise and flattery from his doting sycophants than with watching the lions circling in the dark. If he was picked by the gods, then your gods are fools.”

“You lie,” Chen said. “My father was as pure as a saint. He never had a selfish interest in his heart. He promoted peace and justice for his kingdom and gave his life for his people. They loved him.”

He laughed. “Did they? Stupid boy. You think you know so much. Ask yourself, where are these people now? Do you hear their trumpets touting their arrival?”

“They-” Chen’s eyes darted side-to-side as he sought an answer.

“Think about it. Where are his allies in defense of their liege? Why have the king’s friends not come to his aid?”

“It’s too soon,” Chen said. “Word travels slow, and hasn’t gotten to them yet. Surely they’ll be sending them.”

“And when they arrive, what will they find? Your people are gone. Your father is dead. Your home is demolished. What is there you have left worth saving?”

Chen’s eyes widened as his heart filled with dread. He had already seen the destruction those soldiers had wrought on his city. Everything outside had already been turned to ash.

“And your gentle wife.”

Chen recoiled. “What have you done with her?” he snarled.

The soldiers snickered and the lord raised an eyebrow at Chen. “Do not fret over her. Rest assured,” he said, puffing his chest, “she is alive, and perfectly safe. In fact,” he smirked and cast a sideways glance at his men, “my physicians have assured me that she is in pristine health.”

He paused, grasping his belt with his hands, and leered at Chen with a wolfish look in his eyes. “And prime marriage material.” The soldiers all broke out into laughter, hooting with glee.

The prince erupted with a flurry of insults, spewing poison and howling curses, calling him a dirty son of a starving dog. “If I wasn’t tied to this chair, I would rip your damn head off!” he said as he pulled at the ropes, trying to pounce on him.

But the lord had had enough of his antics, and with a quick movement, he drew his sword from his hip and swiped it at the prince, stopping it right at his neck. “Ahhh!” Chen squealed as the ringing steel bit into his skin. 

“A dog am I?” the lord said. He moved the blade under his chin and pushed it up, and looked him in the eyes with a piercing scowl, baring sharp teeth. The prince winced in pain and didn’t dare to speak. “Well, this dog has bite.”

He lifted the blade off his skin, shook off the thin line of blood from its edge, and pushed it back in its scabbard.  “If you’re thinking the girl is for me, you are mistaken. She will make a fine queen, but for that she needs a proper king.”

The prince lowered his chin. “And what of me?” he asked through clenched teeth. “You planning to kill me?”

He stepped away and turned his back to the prince, speaking over his shoulder. “You will remain here, for now. Until your father’s allies arrive. Upon that time you will renounce your inheritance and all rights as the royal heir. In return, you will be allowed to live in exile.”

Chen hanged his head as he caught on to what he was saying. “As your king’s personal thrall?”

He glanced toward him. “Oh, no. Not at all. You’ll be in comfort, of course. You’ll have your own piece of land, guards, servants. But you will have no royal titles. And you will stay there-”

“As a prisoner.”

“Under our protection. I will see to that.”

Chen exhaled, feeling crestfallen. His spirit had been brought down to the lowest point it’s ever been.

“So, will you accept my proposal, and proclaim your abdication to the kingdom?”

Chen hesitated as he pondered his answer. If he did, it meant living as their retainer for the rest of his life. He would have safety, but no real freedom. Most important of all, he would lose the love he thought he had just won. If that were gone, then his life would have no meaning. What would he be protecting?

“No,” he said. “I’d rather die than be coerced into such misery.”

The lord shrugged. “Unfortunate,” he said. “But if that’s your choice, then so be it.”

He snapped his fingers, signalling to his men, who immediately moved into action, knowing precisely what to do. They moved back and forth, gathering pieces of wood from stacks behind the prince, throwing them down at his feet.

“What is this? What are you doing?” said Chen, panicking.

The men proceeded to stack the wood around him. “It’s simple. If you will not help us then we have other plans for you.”

“No! No! No! Stop!”

The lord ignored his pathetic pleading. “We can’t stop now. This was your choice.” He sighed. “How sad. You would have had a fine life,” he said, “just as you did before: wallowing your days away, wasting your time frolicking in gardens, admiring the shapes of clouds and the songs of birds, secluded from the woes of the world. You could have had everything you wanted, and lived as you wanted—a stupid, spoiled little boy who wanted to be a monk.”

Chen looked at the men, who continued as they were, adding dried grass and leaves as kindling. His heart was pounding through his chest and into his throat, filling his ears with the sound of flowing blood. “You can’t do this. Release me!”

“Certainly,” the lord responded. “We’ll release you from the red dust so you can join your father with the immortals.” They finished the pile with a sprinkling of oil from a bottle on top and stood at the ready. “Funny,” he said. “My emissaries tell of people from far-off lands who believe dragons are beings of fire and brimstone. Keepers of flame and guardians of the underworld.” He smirks, chuckling lightly. “A fitting end for the son of a dragon.”

He turned to one of his soldiers. “Finish it,” he said, and strutted away, his long coat flowing behind him. The soldier pulled out a rock and scraped a knife over it, shooting sparks at the heap of wood. The flames ignited and crept around the prince. Hot smoke swept up and filled his nostrils with the stinging sweet smell of burning fat and thistle. Sweat poured from his brow and sizzled on the charred timbers. His heart was thumping like a beating drum. His lungs heaved like billows.

The full moon’s ghostly rays gleamed through the windows of the grand hall, and fell upon the prince sitting in the chair. The flames rose like murky tendrils, lapping at his feet. His whole body shuddered as the pain washed over him, but no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t free himself of the ropes holding him down. He thought this was it. His life was ending. This is what dying was like. He clenched his eyes shut, holding his breath, trying to fight it, but he was already losing. A heavy breath squeezed out of his throat, and he screamed.

The guards scrutinized the prince through the flames, believing they were watching him die. Their faces filled with terror and their mouths dropped as they realized something was terribly wrong. He was changing. Changing into something inhuman.

His skin rippled as the thing inside him grew, fighting to leap out. Green scaly ridges emerged from his skin, poking through like rocks under a wave. His neck snapped back, and he opened his mouth wide. The joints in his jaws unhinged, his face lengthening into a long snout. Ivory peaks emerged out of his gums, stretched out and hardened into pointed teeth. Each finger morphed into a thin, cold claw, with talons as sharp as knives. His muscles ripped and tore.

His back shattered and his spine expanded as new bone emerged where there was none before. A powerful tail sprouted out behind him as his whole body lengthened to ten times its size. His shoulders split apart, and the ropes binding him stretched and snapped as his torso swelled. The chair crashed beneath him as his mass increased a hundredfold. His body cleaved open, and a monstrous dragon emerged.

The creature stood from within the fire, unscathed by the inferno, and rose high toward the ceiling. He opened his lizardly eyes, and stared longingly at the lush bounty laid out before him. The soldiers froze in fear, unable to move. They could not think what to say or do, and simply gazed in horror at the mythic creature before them that used to be the prince.

The dragon vaulted into the air and reached out with his giant maw, attacking the one closest to him. It closed its teeth around his skull, and with a quick jerk yanked it right off. The dragon turned and looked straight at the others. It opened its mouth and dropped the severed head, which rolled away like a toy ball. The soldiers looked at each other, their faces faded white like ghosts. They screamed and ran for their lives.

The dragon roared and chased after them, attacking with a murderous rage, and cut them down like grass to the reaper. It then lashed out at everything in the hall, crashing through the walls, trampling the furniture, breaking the windows, and smashing the emperor’s dais. It then burst out of the flaming ceiling and fled into the hills, leaving everything to burn.