Danny Phantom

The Kept

Author's Notes: This idea came to me after reading book three of the Kingdom of Thorn and Bone, "The Blood Knight" by Greg Keyes. In this story, characters are going to be in different roles. A lot of the words I'm going to be using for races, places, people, and other such things are actually related words translated into different languages. See if you can pick them out, and if you have questions, don't hesitate to ask. This is going to be a very, very complexed story. I've drawn inspiration and sometimes direct quotations from several sources, the most notable being "Danny Phantom," "The Kingdoms of Thorn and Bone," "Avatar: The Last Airbender," and certain songs by Evanescence. More will be added as I discover more ideas.

Also, I know there are going to be certain parts in this that younger children aren't allowed to read, but if you'd like to read them, I just might add a separate yet related story to illistrate this point. But I'm still thinking on it. More news on this as the plot develops.

So now, here we are, I give to thee part one of the Dark Kingdom Arc, "The Kept."

DISCLAIMER: DANNY PHANTOM AND ALL RELATED CHARACTERS ARE PROPERTY OF BUTCH HARTMAN. THE KINGDOM OF THORN AND BONE AND ALL RELATED IDEAS ARE PROPERTY OF GREG KEYES. ALL OTHER CHARACTERS, IDEAS, PLACES, ETC. THAT ARE NOT EXPLICITLY COPYRIGHTED ARE MY PROPERTY.

Chapter One:

Attack On Eldwist Castle

She pressed her boot firmly into his neck. "You are under my control, you wretched demon," she snarled, narrowing her eyes. "You and everyone of your kind. You shall enslave us no longer. The Ombra, from here out, will be wiped out."

He chuckled. "Brave words, coming from a slave. Our time is passed, human, but know that you will always be slaves. All you've done is chosen a new master," he hissed, and she belted him hard across the face.

"Just for that, I'm going to make you suffer," she snarled, and yanked him up by the collar of his shirt. "You and your child will have the privilege of serving us for the rest of eternity. The rest of you shall be slain." Her eyes darted to the corner of the room, where another of his evil seed was being held. The boy was unusual, but she knew that he'd be just like the rest of them. "Put him in the bottle. I'll make sure this one stays within the darkness."

The men nodded and dragged the boy away.

Below her, he chuckled again. "Virgenya, Virgenya, you believe this ends, don't you? It shall never end. The clock is ticking slowly. Humanity will be forced to make its final stand, now the only question remains is when?"

"Well you can ponder that for the rest of eternity while you rot in the dungeon," she snarled, and dragged him away.

"Dash! That wasn't funny!"

"It was too, don't lie!"

"MOTHER!"

"Now you two need to quit bickering. There's plenty that needs prepared, and you aren't even dressed yet! Dashiel Robert and Samantha Maria Manson, get in here at once!"

The pair froze and stepped into the room their mother had called them from, looking different degrees of guilty. Samantha's dress was slightly torn and her hair was a wreck, and ink blots covered the front of Dashiel's doublet. Neither offered an explanation.

"Well I hope you two are happy! My Uncle John and his wife are going to be here in but two hours, and you two look an awful mess! What have you to say for yourselves?"

"Sorry..." they chimed together. Their mother sighed.

"Jasmine! Come in here a moment!"

The girl did as told, peering in the door. "Yes, your majesty?" she inquired, giving the queen a deep bow.

"Take Samantha up and have her fitted into another gown. I'll not have her looking like a street urchin when John arrives," she said, and then pushed Dashiel out the door as well. "And you, go find Michael and have him remove those stains, quickly!"

Samantha opened her eyes. Where was she? And how had she come to be there? It was dark, save for a few candles and the moonlight filtering in through her window. Her memories were fuzzy, distant, almost, as though someone had hit her hard over the head...

She reached up to feel her raven locks. No blood, so she hadn't been clubbed. That was a start. She was wrapped in a blanket, shivering. Her eyes adjusted to the light at last and she peered around to find herself in a stone chamber. There were tapestries hanging from the walls, but it was still too dark to make them out. She way laying on a large, soft bed in the center of the room, and the floor was covered in fine rugs. In her hand was clutched a bottle... how had it gotten there?

She thought hard for a moment, allowing the memories to slid over her.

"What happened... I remember... the party..." she whispered to herself, drawing the blanket tighter around her. A flash of something entered her mind, something terrible and bloody, with maggots for eyes and the stench of a thousand rotting corpses. She gasped and her back slammed against the headboard.

At the commotion the door flew open. "What is it, princess?" the man asked. He was clad in armor and terrible familiar... "Is everything alright?"

"W-where are we?" she asked, her voice trembling. He entered her room fully, and then his name flickered into her mind. "Sir Skulker, what happened?"

He sat at the foot of her bed, pressing a careful hand to her forehead. "A slight fever. Must have been from the water..." he mumbled. "You don't remember, princess?"

She shook her head and shivered. Had it always been so cold in this room? He placed another blanket around her shoulders.

"We were attacked, your highness. It was very fortunate that we escaped. Actually, most of us were wondering if you might know a bit more about what happened than we do. Seems most of the men that fled with us were just barely awake. But once we got you away from the castle, the attackers vanished."

"Attackers? Castle... are mother and father alright?"

"I suppose so, we haven't heard any news, so I'm hoping that's a good sign. But you should rest, your highness. You've had a trying day."

She shook her head. "No, I want to know what happened. And what is this?" she asked, gesturing towards the bottle in her hand. The knight opened his mouth to speak when another voice answered for him.

"Your mother never said, Samantha." This voice was feminine, familiar... then when her eyes fell on the red hair and teal eyes, her memory jolted again.

"My mother gave me this?" she asked, staring at it. "I wonder what it is..."

"She did say not to open it," the girl cautioned. "There wasn't time to explain the details."

Samantha just shook her head. "Well, we'll never know what it is unless we open it, right?" she asked, looking from one face to the other. A few more had joined them to see what all the commotion was about. She was about to twist the crystal cap off when yet another voice broke through the silence.

"Samantha! Oh my dear sweet niece, are you alright?" a woman cried, bursting into the room and throwing her arms around the girl's neck.

"Aunt Dora!" she gasped, trying to suck in air. The older woman let go, wiping a tear from her eye.

"We thought we may have lost you there for a little while," she said quietly, stroking the dark beauty's hair. Sam arched an eyebrow and sent a glance across the room and the handmaiden standing in the doorway.

"What happened, Jazz?" she asked, attempting to move, but her actions were thwarted by both Skulker and Dora, who lay hands on her shoulders and pressed her back down. Jasmine sighed deeply and crossed the room.

"I only know what little I saw, the rest is just what you can remember," she said, sitting beside the princess, who was staring at her avidly. She went on. "When the party began, your father had started introducing people and you were running off somewhere, remember?"

"I remember that much, but after that its all a bit hazy."

Jasmine nodded. "We were in the armory, remember? Looking at the swords, and you found one with an obsidian pommel and some kind of engraving on it, and had a mind to keep it. It was right about then that we heard someone scream."

"Princess, that isn't a toy! It's a weapon, probably the sword of some knight who left it here for safe keeping!"

"Jazz, it's just a sword. If it were a knight's weapon, he'd have it on him. It's like they're naked without their swords," the young woman replied, drawing the gleaming blade from an old leather sheath. The blade had dulled from disuse and the metal was scratched and worn, though that was the only ordinary thing about the blade. Just below the hilt there were engravings, ones that looked as though they might be an ancient script of some dead culture. It was very gothic in nature, and it fascinated the young princess.

The same couldn't be said about her attendant, however, as the older girl looked stiffly at the weapon. "We should go, Sam, or we're going to get in trouble."

Sam opened her mouth to speak when a rather loud shriek punctured the air, and both girls were somewhat scared that the sound had issued itself from the princess's mouth. However that was clearly not the case, as more screams followed suit, though these were nearly telligible. Sam peered out the door carefully, observing the room without, and saw a panic had ensued.

"Sam, let's go!" Jazz breathed quickly, fear laced in her normally-smooth voice. Sam nodded, not acknowledging that she still held the blade within her hands, as the two girls exited the armory and ran straight into a rather unsavory character. He was tall, with rich black armor that constricted his face and body from view. The helmet he wore seemed to emit purple flames, and the sword he brandished at the Princess and the handmaiden was alight with searing green flame.

"Release the child of fate, wretched woman," he demanded in harsh tones. Sam didn't really have much time to contemplate what he was demanding, because an instant later Jazz had dragged her from the room hurriedly, hoping that they hadn't been followed.

They had, of course, and it was only the sudden yanking of the girls into a strange and secret passage that saved them from being quite publicly dismembered.

"Mother, what are you doing?" Sam inquired, now quite thoroughly confused. The older woman smiled at her daughter sadly.

"Samantha, I'm very proud of you."

"Mom, wha-?"

"Here, take this and run, but do not open it. Sir Skulker and his company will escort you from the palace. Promise me you won't look back." She shoved a small silver bottle into her daughter's hands.

"But Mom I-"

"Promise me!"

Sam stared at her for several long moments. It felt like it could have been an eternity that she stood there, staring fixedly at the woman who'd born her into the world, but there was little time for debate, and the desperate look in Queen Pamela's eyes. At length the young princess conceded to her mother's wishes and was whisked away from the palace and out into the darkness.

Sam's eyes opened, eying the people who stood around her. Unconsciously she fiddled with the bottle that remained clenched in her hands. She had questions, and lots of them, and there were so many to choose from. Of course, she suspected they didn't have much time, and not all of her questions would be answered as satisfactorily as she wanted. "Why do I have a fever?" was the question she at last settled on, one which was easily answered.

"Upon leaving the palace, your horse was... er... incapacitated, and you fell along with it into the river flowing beside the walls. It was a miracle we got you out in time."

It was only then that she'd really taken a good notice of the knight sitting at her feet. Being Esprit, he was unnatural, even amongst their standards. His body was composed of cybernetic armor and his hair was created of large green flames... flames that had licked the blade of a sword she'd seen...

"Who were the men that attacked us?" she asked, looking around. "They weren't human, were they?"

"No... Princess, they were Esprit."

She nodded. A sharp jab of pain shot through her weakened lungs and she lurched, the bottle falling from her grasp. It seemed to float through eternity, gently gliding to its inevitable destination: in shattered pieces upon the stone. Jasmine's scream barely seemed to register as the knight grabbed hold of Sam to keep her from falling after the bottle.

And then it shattered, shards flying every which direction, forced as though the bottle had exploded rather than having just fallen. Mist issued into the room and swirled around, sifting around until it took on a vaguely human shape. Shock and mingled fear danced in the eyes of the spectators, all but Samantha, who's sight had been claimed by the sudden wave of unconsciousness that had overtaken her. The shape solidified, and men drew their weapons as it sank, coughing, to the floor.

Though this spectacle was a captivating one, it didn't distract them from the unmistakable sound of cannon-fire that ensued only seconds later. Jasmine screamed, not really knowing why but feeling it was an appropriate gesture for the present situation.

Sam could do no such thing, as her breathing had become labored and her muscles twitched unnaturally. Her eyes were glazing, a sure sign that something had burrowed its way within her lungs. Dora was screaming and wailing, shaking her young niece. "Samantha! No, Samantha! Come back to me!" she cried, sobbing into the girl's bodice. A stern hand forced her lightly to the side, and the woman was hardly able to register who'd done the pushing. He was a young man, garbed in strange clothes. His black hair ruffled slightly and his crystal orbs glinted slightly with purpose as he leaned over Samantha's prone form.

No one dared breathe, even with the bombardment of their little stronghold, as the young man leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers. She jerked and he pulled up, and then whirled around. "I need water," he said shortly, gesturing to a young man near the door to comply with his demand. He did so, bring a large bucket of it. The boy nodded to him and wove his hands through the air, guiding the water from the bucket to the girl's mouth and depositing it within. He closed his eyes in concentration and then jerked up. The water emerged, and within it something dark and writhing was trapped. Jasmine released a gasp and Dora shrieked.

The boy clenched his hands into fists and crushed the sinister mass and then dropped it into the bucket. A breath froze the liquid and its contents solid, and he thrust it unceremoniously out the window.