Prologue: Imprisoned

He sat on his massive, scaled haunches, perched on the crumbling and shattered peak of a blasted mountain, claws gripping the rock in a studious unconcern for the immense height, as he gazed downward into the thorn-infested valley below. Rising from its center was the weathered, ancient tower of Queen Rapunzel's castle, its surface covered with intertwined and layered vines of ivy, so thick and choking that it appeared the vegetation were engulfing the tower in a calculated attempt to bring it tumbling to the earth.

It was the growth of a century, unchecked by any gardener or royal groundskeeper, for all such individuals slept blissfully unaware with the rest of the humans of the Sixth Kingdom, enthralled by the spell that had cast its shroud over this land and refused to break its hold, no matter the bravery, cleverness, guile, or genuine belief questors had borne with them through their fruitless attempts to set the kingdom free.

He flexed his enormous leathery wings, stirring the air with a steady and powerful gust of wind, and flicked one reptilian ear. Not that any of this was of any concern to him. If he gave the matter any thought at all, it was with a certain relief. None of those seeking fame and heroism, or simple justice for the hapless Rapunzel and the fair Beauty whose finger upon a spinning wheel's spindle had cast this spell, ever disturbed him. And as long as the kingdom remained beneath this pall, lost to the realm of dreams, he would be alone.

That was why he came here. That was what he sought. To be alone. Such had he always been, by the decree of this cruel world, and such would he always be, by his own unalterable choice.

There had been many like him once. Some wicked, yes, reveling in laying waste to the countryside of the Nine Kingdoms, strafing farms, villages, and castles with their incendiary breath. But most had been peaceful. Aloof, disdainful of human contact, isolate in their own sense of propriety, decorum, and wisdom, choosing to remain apart except when threatened, or when approached by one whose mission and heart they deemed worthy. But peaceful.

But one among their number had changed that, had wiped out the previous centuries of slow acceptance of his kind with a vicious vendetta. He growled venomously under his breath, steam and smoke leaking from between the razor-sharp teeth gleaming in his maw.

Even now, after almost two hundred years, the memory of it burned within him, the tale passed down through the generations, whispered in hushed voices within the caves where his people had been driven into hiding.

One among them had taken it upon himself to begin a reign of terror upon the Kingdoms, lending their entire race a tarnished reputation, entrenching a fear and distrust and terror in the people, greater even that that held by the House of Red and the descendants of Little Bo Peep for wolves. The reason for it had been lost in the past; perhaps he had been insulted, or attacked, or a misunderstanding had led to a festering rivalry and hatred. Or perhaps he had merely gotten up on the wrong side of the den that morning. Whatever had occurred, it had led to an act of terrorism so vile it horrified the entire population of the Nine Kingdoms.

And it had been an error in judgment for that particular firebreather. For his target had been the Dwarves of Dragon Mountain, one of the great peoples, seven of which had once welcomed Snow White herself into their home and cared for her. It had been a mistake that had led to his demise...his bones now guarded the entrance to the Dwarven mines. But the cost had been high—not only in the lives of those who came to slay him, but in the subsequent banishment of his people from the Ninth Kingdom.

A single tear formed in one of his luminous azure eyes and trickled down his hot cheek. He had been a hatchling when the exile had occurred, but he still remembered his ancestral home with pride and longing. The dragons could have stayed, of course, they were numerous and strong and well able to defend themselves against any and all intruders who might attempt to drive them out. After all, they were immune to magic.

But the loss of the good will and respect the people had once granted them...the shame they faced at knowing none of them would ever be trusted again...it was too much for them, and they had fled into hiding, scattering over the Kingdoms. And that had been their undoing. Divided, outnumbered, they had all perished...some to disease, some to the depredations of knights, some to the weather, some he was certain to simple loneliness.

Now he was the last.

He could not know this with any degree of certainty, if one needed proof that could be held in the paw and pointed to, displayed to inspire belief. Not unless he left his sanctuary, his refuge, and braved the dangers of the lands to search for others...something he would not do unless he had no other choice left to him. But in his heart, he knew it. He felt alone. Forgotten. If he did venture into the other Kingdoms, he wondered how many would even remember to fear him. To hate him. Cruelty had altered its shape from a swordthrust in the belly to uncaring neglect.

The dragons had been destroyed, not only by warfare and hunting, traps and lures and weapons, but by erasing them from the collective minds and thoughts of the people, relegating them to history as an oddity long gone, a fanciful tale. No one cared now...and he even began to wonder, on his days of deepest despair, if anyone ever had.

Why this should matter to him, he did not know. Why it had mattered to the dragons of two centuries past, he did not know. What he did know was that the rejection of those who had once revered dragons, and the yearning for a home where he could never dwell...it twisted his guts and clenched with claws of agony upon his heart. He knew not whether to hate the humans, the Dwarves, the Trolls, the Elves, or to pity them; to understand or not to understand; to be confused and angry or to ignore. At any time he might feel all or none of these emotions, but in the end result it came to the same conclusion. Solitude was his destiny.

It was a destiny he had accepted. But as he regarded the empty, silent stretches of the ensorcelled Sixth Kingdom and reflected on how they mirrored the state of his own heart, he knew it was a destiny he did not have to enjoy and could never take any pleasure in, despite how much better it was than the alternative...constant fear, shame, and anger as he faced the prejudice and hatred.

A sense of cowardice and inadequacy surged through him at these thoughts, thoughts that resembled cowering and running away from himself, but it was all he had left. However much he might hate himself for continuing these rationalizations, and wish to have company besides himself, it was better this way. Safer.

Shaking his shoulders in a motion that traveled all along his supple and undulating back, the dragon rose and spread his wings once more, this time tensing the powerful muscles of his legs and leaping into the sky. But as he wheeled against the crimson and orange horizon, fading into the deep blues and purples of night, and darted across the landscape toward the distant and lonely den he kept to the southwest, along the coast, he could not help but think his illusion of safety was a prison from which he would never escape.

(A/N: A few notes. This story is one I wrote right after the miniseries first aired...I think I started in 1999 and finished in 2000. Anyway, it was originally posted on a Tenth Kingdom bulletin board, and from there was included in the online fanfic archive, Kingdoms Press, where it remains to this day. It was also "published" as a fanzine which was taken to a fantasy convention (I forget which, but Sohna could tell you since she's the one who printed and distributed it) in 2000 or 2001. I say this not to toot my own horn but to let you know where else you might have heard of or seen it, if you have. But I decided to also post it here, just to give it a bit more publicity, since Kingdoms Press may or may not turn up on a lot of searches by people looking for Tenth Kingdom fics. So here it is!

Also: I am aware that the map of the Nine Kingdoms identified the castle in the Sixth Kingdom not as Queen Rapunzel's but as the Great Snoring Castle. I fully blame the very blurry and unfocused images from the miniseries I used for reference when writing this. By the time I saw a larger, clearer image on DVD, it was too late and I had already written a large portion of this, and woven Rapunzel into the narrative...so, I left it as is. For what it's worth, while I mean no disrespect to Simon Moore and the name does fit the overall feel of the Nine Kingdoms, I actually think Great Snoring Castle is a bit too silly anyway. :P So you can consider my fic an AU...not that it isn't anyway, with all the many sequels out there. R/R!)