Comic fantasy loosely inspired by King Midas and The Princess Bride. This character resulted very much as a result of me going, “What if there was, like, a Prince Lotor slash Legolas-looking pretty boy with long flowing hair who was grossly incompetent and vain and also gold?” I feel like there aren’t enough goofy men who fit this archetype in fiction. Too majestic. Make them silly.
The Golden Prince was incredibly carefree. He didn’t fear melting, nor being put in a dragon’s hoard, nor the fate of the shining kingdom that he was meant to one day rule. As it turned out, it would have behooved him to worry about all of those things, or at least be aware that they could happen, because they did.
It started properly with the Silver King, but in a way it started improperly before that, with the Princess of Dragons. Deceptive name, really, because she was the princess of exactly one dragon and one dragon only: Brilliant Scaled Dragoness, or, in her own language, a noise that sounded like something between a snort and a sneeze. A snortze. A sneet.
Brilliant Scaled Dragoness didn’t want the Golden Prince to rescue the Princess of Dragons. As it turned out, the princess didn’t want him to, either. The prince didn’t really consider this possibility as he sought to rescue her. After all, the way that the princess cried out at him to stop attacking the dragon could be the result of some sort of spell or illusion.
He jabbed his sword at the dragon’s maw, narrowly missing her tongue and inviting a jet of fire. More than the beast itself he was concerned about the way that the sword’s steel blade contrasted sharply with the rest of his person. His armor was golden, yes, and so too was his skin, hair, and even his nails, eyes, and teeth.
The hilt of the rapier he had made of gold and studded with elaborate designs and jewels, but the comparatively unadorned blade left him annoyed.
It was as he stared a second too long at his own sword that he saw Brilliant Scaled Dragoness’ reflection snarling in the tipped-down blade. Before he could get himself back into the battle, the dragoness snatched him up.
“Oh!” He cried out, golden-threaded cape fluttering with the movement as he was turned upside down.
She squeezed him in his armor until he dropped the sword. From there, the Princess of Dragons picked it up.
“Thank you, thank you for that,” he said, weakly wiggling his fingers in the air.
She walked over to the window of the high tower in which they were ensconced in and defenestrated the sword.
“Well, that doesn’t do me quite as much good as handing it to me,” he said, “but I’ll retrieve it once I’m free.”
The princess talked to the dragoness with a series of grunts, groans, and growls. The prince attempted to cut in with a bellow or roar here or there, but they merely glanced at him with critical eyes before resuming their conversation.
The dragoness and the princess walked side by side to the treasury, the golden prince dangling from the former’s grip. She dumped him without ceremony into the hoard of gold.