Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, but if I did, I guarantee you evolutionary spider would be writing it (READ THE GRIM REAPER BOOGIE NOW).
Just for reference: 1. Aragon is the prince from the Beauty Pageant Episode, and in this story he is a teenager, and slightly more awkward. I think I still got his character down; just he's slightly more hormonal.
Chapter 1: Of Empty Pasts and Grease Stoves.
She awoke to the sound of music playing—sweet, merciful music. It was the first she had heard in ages, and it sounded so pure; so fresh and alive.
She ached to be near it.
Out of the darkness of her hole she crept, her ragged and gray fingers dragging across the muck and grime of the swamp where she lived. Her bright green eyes, changed from their once electric blue color, scrutinized the murky area for the source of the breathtaking melody. Then, behind her, she heard the slow sucking sound of feet being swallowed by the muck, and whirled around to see who made it.
A solitary being, glowing dimly in the thick swamp air, stared back at her with eyes as bright as hers, only violet. Besides its eyes, the rest of its face was covered by a deep purple robe that reached below its feet. She saw some markings lining the folds of the garment, but besides that, its robes were plain. She couldn't tell if it was male or female, but she didn't care, all she wanted was this thing to be gone.
"What do you want? Can't you see this is my swamp!" She spat out viciously, her voice harsh and raspy with wear and tear. The ghost's eyes seemed to smile at her in amusement, and out of its robes, it pulled out a long piece of wood: A flute.
Her eyes went wide as it pressed the instrument to its unseen lips, and played the same melody she had heard only moments before. She stood spellbound at the song, her own jade eyes glazing over in ecstasy. It had been so long since she last heard a song, or even a gentle melody. Then the creature stopped, hiding the flute back in its robes.
She looked down and gulped; noticing her throat was suddenly dry and raw. Of course that was no surprise to her; she hadn't spoken so many words in ages, ever since the day 3 years ago when she…died. It was no wonder her voice ached at the moment. The ghost in front of her drifted closer to her, reaching out with a pale hand to lift her head up. She batted it away, and lunged at the thing, tearing and clawing at its robes.
She wanted that flute.
She NEEDED that flute.
The ghost didn't move an inch at her lunge, and just allowed her to phase through it. She fell face first into the mud, and it clung to her ripped and torn brown dress. She got up and glared at the ghost, and lunged at him again. She sailed right through it, but stayed on her feet. She spun quickly, and clawed the thing across its face, and tore off the hood that cloaked it.
Her eyes went wide, and her pupils became tiny little specks. Suddenly, the flute was the farthest thing from her mind. The ghost's lips formed a smirk at her surprise, and grabbed her by the throat. Long fingers wrapped around her delicate throat, and crushed her windpipe, but all the while she stared at it. She didn't need to breathe; it knew she didn't need to breathe. She struggled, but the ghost lifted her off the ground so that her feet dangled in the air. The ghost's smirk became a wide grin.
"I can offer you all you wish…Amber, or should I say…Ember," the ghost spoke slowly. Ember's ectoplasm went cold; the voice was cold and icy. It gave her chills down her spine.
"What do you want? Haven't you taken enough from me?" She squeaked out from under the ghosts grip. The ghost's lips curled back in a smile, revealing white teeth.
"Dear Ember…I haven't taken anything from you, you lost it all by yourse-"
The ghost was cut off by an ectoplasmic blast to its gut. It fell into the muck, showering its robes with mud, and groaned. Ember glared at the ghost, and for once, the ghost looked worried.
"Never call me that, ever again, you filthy fucking bastard. How dare you come here, and how dare you try and speak to ME? Get out of here."
Her voice was getting softer and softer at every syllable, no matter how much energy she pushed into yelling. Years of disuse had made her voice weak. Her face darkened in rage, and she turned her back to the ghost.
"Well, Amber," it said sourly, "I simply came here to offer you a deal, but if you don't wish to speak to me, I'll just offer it to someone else." It stood up and flicked some of the mud off its robes, and pulled its hood back on. Ember scowled, and kept her back turned to the ghost.
"Of course…you could've been famous…"
A spark of something flickered in Ember's eyes, and she turned to meet the ghost's eyes.
"Famous?"
Beneath its hood, the ghost grinned yet again.
Later that evening, the sound of screams echoed through the swamp, and the cackle of a ghost with snow-white teeth and violet eyes could be heard for miles around.
The deal had been sealed.
-Fourteen years later-
The child awoke to the scent of her own burning flesh, and her screams filled the night air. Aragon laughed slowly as the flesh blackened and broke, leaving thin strips of snow white fat dripping down her exposed belly. Her screams grew in strength, and her little body erupted in spasms all over, but all he did was watch with glowing blue eyes at how delicious the child looked, with her slowly burning black hair and large pansy brown eyes, and thought about how her tears would season her all the better. For, indeed, she was crying. She was crying her little heart out. Why bother with marinade when your victims produce it themselves? Tears always made the meat taste…good.
Prince Aragon licked his scaly lips and lapped up some of the drool that had snaked down form his mouth. The child would soon be ready; he had only to wait until she stopped screaming from being slowly cooked alive. Not that he minded the screams, in fact, they whetted his appetite.
In fact, before his sister exiled him, this was how they cooked all his meals: allowing to listen to the poor animals scream and moan as he listened while they were roasted slowly alive. It wasn't until he had left the ghost zone that he discovered he had a taste for human flesh. After all, who wouldn't find a crying and tasty human appetizing? He certainly did.
He liked children especially, since they always cried right before he ate them. It gave the meat a salty flavor; like sea brine, only better tasting. The only type of human he hated was teenagers. That little halfa hadn't agreed with him when he took a chomp out of his leg. He had vomited directly after. Of course, it could be blamed on the fact that the halfa was indeed half ghost, but the thought hadn't entered Aragon's head.
The child stopped screaming, and Aragon was finally ready to eat. He grabbed the child off the spit he had used to roast her over a garbage can, and brought her to his lips. He was assaulted by the smell of her flesh, no longer reeking of rank human, but of delicious meat.
He brought her middle to his lips, and…
The girl looked at his and yelled, "Get'yer ass in gear, Aragon!"
"What?" Aragon dropped the girl, and she slammed against the ground. The girl got up, her stomach and face marred by blackened burns, and spoke in a voice way too old for her.
"You heard me, those stoves ain't gonna clean themselves!"
"Urgh…" Aragon opened his eyes to see that he wasn't in the human world, feasting on a tasty girl's flesh, but sleeping under a counter in a diner in the western part of the Ghost Zone.
Then he remembered; he worked at a diner now. He scowled, his eyes visibly darkening. Ever since he had failed at staying in the real world, and his amulet was broken, he had to work here, of all places! He was a prince, degraded to do the work of peasants. What was worse was that he had a hideous, cruel, and fat boss. And on top of that, she was female! He scowled further when the bitch stated yelling for him.
"What?" said Aragon, turning around to see his boss only to get a metal spatula thrown at his face. He groaned, rubbing the mark where the metal had hit him.
He glared up at his boss, who called herself the 'Lunch Lady'. He smirked, remembering that even the human world's Lunch Ladies were more attractive then this hunk of moving lard.
"What are you smiling about, maggot" she wailed, and his smile melted off his face. "Do your job and fucking clean those greased stoves and fryers. I don't want to see you until I can see myself in the metal, ya'hear, Prince?"
Aragon grudgingly grabbed a sponge off one of the sinks, and went about scrubbing the stoves. Soon, he was covered from head to toe in grime, and he couldn't help but wonder how he had went from prince, to this.
'It was that Mason girl's fault, filling my sister's head with nonsense. The next time I get out of here, I'll make sure that bastard Phantom doesn't get in my way of finding her,' he scrubbed even harder at the stoves. 'Granted, the next time I try to take my revenge, I won't make the mistake of eating children… well, maybe a few…'
"Someone seems angry, bad day?"
He stiffened, and his lips curled back in a snarl. He'd know that voice anywhere. Turning around slowly, he gave a fake smile to the girl in front of him.
"Ember, what a pleasant surprise," he said forcefully through his teeth. "Have you come here for something?"
Ember laughed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She knew Aragon liked her, but he didn't like being around girls that he knew was stronger than him. So he pretended to dislike her. She on the other hand, truly hated the boy, but she needed him at the moment.
"I know you hate me, so you don't need to pretend. Besides, if you haven't noticed, The Lunch Lady is out back." Aragon looked behind him, and saw that she was right, and gave a sigh of relief. Ember raised an eyebrow, and gave him a smug look. Aragon didn't like it.
"Why are you here, to bother me?" Ember frowned, and her eyebrows knotted together in consideration.
"I've come to seek your help," she said simply. Aragon's jaw dropped. Ember wanted help from him, someone whose powers were taken from him when his amulet was broken? Yeah, right. Still, he couldn't blame her. He always had a sort of…way with the ladies, but only f you call forcing them to like him on penalty of death a way with ladies. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ember cut him off.
"Also, I know you need my help as well. You see, I need to get something from your old kingdom, and I know you need to get your spare amulet from your home to escape from here."
"And why would you need my help?" Ember gave him an "are-you-stupid-look-, and he flushed…well, as flushed as ghosts can get.
"Well, I don't know where it is, however you, the exiled prince of Argonne, can take me straight to it." She reached over the counter and tapped the boy on the tip of his nose, making him blush. Ember inwardly smirked; the boy thought he had so much power over women, but here he was, bending to her will. It amused her.
"…N-No, I won't do it."
Ember gave him a look of fake shock, and put her hand to her chest. "Why not?"
Aragon snarled at her, and threw the sponge he was still holding onto the counter. "In case you haven't noticed, I LOATHE you. Why should I ever help you?"
Embers eyes went wide, and she looked to the ground, biting her lip. Aragon gave her a puzzled look, and when she looked up, she was crying.
"I just thought that maybe if we did this, you might like me better." The tears traveled down her cheeks, and left small streams down her face. "I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone; get the items, and get you to like me." She turned for the door. "I guess… I was wrong."
"…Ember, wait."
When she turned around, Aragon was at her side embracing her. He had a flush around his cheeks, and was tearing up.
"I'll help you Ember, and I'm sorry for acting that way. I do like you…," He looked down at Ember, who was crying into his shoulder. "I'll help you anyway I can."
"Thank you," she said, her voice quivering with emotion, but inside, she was grinning.
'What a sucker! All men are the same: Weak-willed and easily manipulated,' she thought, and inwardly she congratulated herself for manipulating him.
"So what do you need to get there?" Aragon asked, shutting his eyes and leaning his head on Ember's. The flames tickled his nose, but were as cool and easy to touch as water.
Ember smirked, and leaned her head against his chest.
"Just a little thing called…the Seal of Ghast."
Well, there you have it, the first chapter. Now I am going to go work on my neglected fic, Dancer's of the Flickering Flame, hopefully.
Of course, I may just be a lazy bastard and never update that thing and just work on this one. -;
(1): Name I gave to Aragon's Kingdom