First fic, be nice. I'll probably have chapter one (and a better summary) up in a few days, hopefully.

Disclaimer: I don't own DP, otherwise it would have never been cancelled.


The Phantom Prince: Prologue

His world was a blur of sights and sensations, where up could have been down and the cool chest he was pressed to—covered in a thick, ebony pelt that looked almost green in the right light—could have easily been a figment of his fevered mind. He was ill, and gravely so if his raised temperature was any indication.

The cool night did little to soothe his fever, and the gentle rocking he received as the beast cradling him ran from some unseen pursuer only made him uncomfortable and dizzy. When he tried to voice his distress, the creature squeezed him lightly, murmuring soothing words that he couldn't understand but took comfort in anyway.

He was then surprised that it didn't strike him as odd that the wolf-like—possibly, but that was all he could tell by the dim light of the moon—being was speaking.

Then again, that didn't really matter.

What mattered, his muddled mind tried to remind him, was the fact that it was taking him far away from something else as fast as its legs could carry the both of them; as for what that something could be, and why it frightened his monstrous protector, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Not that he would; he could hardly remember where he was or why his little fingers were busily seeking reassurance in dark fur. Even his own name seemed foreign to him in this fever-dream.

But just as he thought this, his world again shifted.

He felt himself abruptly stop, and be lowered to the ground only seconds before the uproar. He squeezed his eyes tightly as angry screams, explosive blasts and horrible snarls that he hoped to never hear again seemed to swell from nothing.

More cries and muted growls arose from the confusion of battle, and by the time he heard the slick sound of tearing flesh and the drip, drip, drip of something he'd rather not think about, it was all he could do to contain his own cries.

I'm next, he thought to himself, and so he chanced one last look at his would-be attacker, only to gape in horror at the sight that greeted him.

The faces of his parents, twisted with rage and something like curiosity, stared back.