Once Upon a Time

A Newtmas fairy tale AU

Once upon a time, in a country not that far away, lived a beautiful young prince called Newt. He had long, blonde hair and mesmerising dark brown eyes. Many a young woman (and quite a few men) had literally fainted in his company.

All was well in the kingdom and the young prince grew up to be a very happy young man. He was adored by his parents and his future subjects. It seemed as if nothing could ruin their happiness.

Until one day, tragedy struck. On the way to visit a neighbouring kingdom, the young man was snatched by a horrifying creature. Many members of his party were left dead in its wake as they tried to rescue the prince. Desperate to get help, the prince's closest friend, Lord Minho, rode back to the castle as fast as he could, shouting that the prince had been taken by a horrible creature.

The king immediately gathered his most trusted men and rode out to save the prince, but when they arrived, there were no-one left alive and no trace of the creature or the prince.

Consumed with grief, the king and queen retired to their caste, where many young men passed by, each claiming that they were the one who could rescue the prince. However, none of them ever returned.

One day, a young man in an old suit of armour with many pieces missing, turned up at the castle gate, demanding to see the king and queen. Announcing himself as Sir Thomas of the Northern Glade, he swore he would be the one who would finally bring the prince back to his mournful parents. The king and queen begged him not to go, not wanting another young man to die on what they believed was a hopeless quest.

However, the young Thomas insisted on taking on the quest, asking if anyone would be willing to show him the place the prince had disappeared. A silence fell upon the throne room, until Lord Minho stepped forward, agreeing to take Sir Thomas there.

Early the next morning, the two of them rode out and into the deep dark forest where the creature had taken the prince. Not a single word was exchanged between them, each worrying if the creature was still nearby, lurking, waiting.

They reached the clearing where the prince had been taken, the gory remains of those who had gone before them all too visible.

Sir Thomas then requested that Lord Minho should return to the castle, in case something happened to him and the creature would start searching for more prey. The other man agreed and Sir Thomas rode further into the forest, his sword drawn, his yes watchful.

He rode quietly for the longest time, until the sun's rays burned bright orange, and the dark creatures of the forest began to wake up. He camped under a big old tree and managed to fell into an uneasy sleep.

However, this restless sleep did not last long. The stars had barely begun shining down on the forest, when Thomas was woken by the sound of something rather large moving through the undergrowth. Quickly, quietly, he scrambled to his feet and, fearing this was something he could not outrun, he grabbed the nearest branch and started climbing up the tree. He desperately hoped the creature would pass him by and not take his beloved horse with it.

He found a wide branch to rest on and tried to see if the creature was coming towards him, but the forest was all too dark. Thomas rested against the tree trunk until the sun rose. Thankfully, both him and his horse were safe, and so, his quest continued.

He rode as long and quick as possible, only resting when it was absolutely necessary. Finally, after a couple of days of sleeping in trees and having his sword at the ready, he reached the end of the forest. The sight that greeted him made his jaw drop slightly.

An enormous castle stood before him, walls covered in thorny vines, what appeared to be a bottomless pit acting as a moat with bridge ending in a portcullis. He got off his horse, tying him to a tree, before starting to walk slowly towards the gate, his sword drawn and raised.

Suddenly, the portcullis was pulled up. Thomas stood still, waiting for any enemies to appear. When nobody - or nothing- appeared to be charging him, he tentatively moved forward, ready to leap backwards should an enemy appear.

Thomas passed under the portcullis, spinning around as it slammed shut behind him. Under his breath, he swore in a most unknightly manner, before taking in his surroundings.

The vine covered walls surrounded what should have been the courtyard. Instead, the bridge he was standing on lead to a circular platform before narrowing into another path, leading to the castle doors, all surrounded by the seemingly bottomless chasm.

To Thomas, this looked eerily similar to an arena. But if that indeed the case, who was he supposed to fight.

In that very instant, the doors opened and out crawled a creature, Thomas had only ever seen in his nightmare-inducing children's books. This was a Griever.

The Griever had an uncountable number of legs and spikes. It was dark and looming with its beady eyes immediately focusing on Thomas.

He instinctively moved away, but the portcullis was in his way. There was nothing to do, but to fight.

Gripping his sword tightly, he moved onto the circular platform, the Griever making a sneering sound. Thomas took a deep breath, before running forward, swinging his sword towards one of the many legs. However, his sword did nothing but clang uselessly against it.

Thomas, deeming a tactical retreat was in order, ran towards the edge of the platform as the Griever suddenly attacked. He leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding one of the spikes. It attacked again and again, barely leaving him any time to breathe, let alone think. But he had to find a way to outwit it or he was done for. He snuck a few glances to the side and noticed the vines covering the walls. Maybe, just maybe, this would work. Either way, he was a dead man.

Dodging yet another attack from the Griever, he ran as quickly as possible towards the wall, studding his sword into the sheath, the Griever following close by. With a loud yell, he jumped from the platform, not looking down, only focusing on the wall, and managed to grip onto the vines, gritting his teeth in pain as the thorns dug into his palms. He heard a loud shriek and watched as the Griever fell off the platform and into the deep, dark abyss.

With a sigh of relief and a hiss of pain, Thomas climbed alongside the wall, until he reached a point where he could easily jump down onto the path. He paused for a few moments, catching his breath and bearings. He pulled out his sword again and walked to the gates of the castle.

He easily pushed on the gates open and stepped into the entrance hall, bathed in the light of numerous candles and covered in soft red carpet. He slowly moved up the grand staircase, keeping an eye out for anymore Grievers. He had almost reached the top when a voice came from behind him. "Are you looking for me, young man?"

Thomas spun around. In the middle of the hall stood an elderly man in a polished suit of armour, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"That depends," Thomas said, "are you the one who has kidnapped Prince Newt?"

The man grinned. "Let me tell you a story, young... knight," he glanced at Thomas's suit of armour (which was just the chestplate, wristguards and the greave), "I was going to rule this kingdom. My father's father was the king and we were all happy. The Prince Newt's great-grandfather came along and killed him, taking the crown. My family's land was reduced to a lowly dukedom. I should have been the crown prince!"

"So, you kidnapped the prince to get revenge?" Thomas said.

"Indeed I did. I found a way to control a Griever and managed to capture one. After that it was all too easy. No-one found a way past it, before you. But once I've killed you, I will travel to the capital and kill the prince right in front of the king, before killing him and taking the crown for myself."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Duke," Thomas said moving down the stairs. "It is my quest to save the prince and bring him back to his parents, alive. Now, where is he?"

"You'll have to kill me before I let you get him," the Duke said, pulling out his own sword. "Who do you think will win this battle? Me, prim, pristine and trained by some of the greatest swordsmen who have ever lived, or you, the poor, young knight?"

"I think I'm in with a fighting chance," Thomas said, before lunging for his opponent.

The Duke blocked his attack, pushing Thomas back, suddenly aiming a swing at the exposed part of his leg. Thomas jumped back, before attacking again and again, desperate to catch the Duke off guard, but he managed to block every swing, every jab, every desperate attack.

Thomas knew he was in trouble. Sure, he was younger and slightly faster, but the Duke's better equipment and superior training more than made up for it. However, he kept on fighting, kept on looking for the opening that would allow him to finish the battle. He would not fail his quest!

Suddenly, a voice interrupted the fierce battle. "You better get out of the way." Thomas turned around. A young man was standing at the top of the giant staircase, longbow in hand, ready to fire. "Get out of the way, Sir," he repeated and Thomas jumped aside, dropping his sword.

"Now, now, Newt, I think we both know you are not going to kill me," the Duke said. "Surely, you don't want anyone to think that the joyful, kind, peace loving prince is a killer."

Prince Newt walked closer, pulling back the arrow a notch. "You kidnapped me. You locked in your dungeon for months. You threatened me with torture and that you would kill me entire family. Your Griever killed many good men. Killing you will not tarnish my reputation. It will be a glorious victory." And with those words, he released the arrow.

Thomas watched in fascination as the arrow struck its intended target. The Duke's eyes widened before he fell to the ground, face frozen in a twisted mask of death.

Newt lowered the bow, staring down at the Duke's lifeless body, before turning to Thomas.

"You know, I was expecting a knight in shining armour to come to my rescue," he said.

"Your highness, like grey in a man's hair, each spot of rust, each bump, each scratch is a mark of wisdom and experience," Thomas said.

"I see. And of course, this was reason why I had to rescue you, Sir... em..."

"Sir Thomas, your highness, and evidently, I have a lot to learn," Thomas replied.

"Indeed you do," Newt said, walking over to him, resting his hand on his shoulders. "However, you did kill the Griever and thereby ensure my safe escape. I will be eternally grateful for that, and I am sure my parents share that sentiment."

Thomas's cheeks heated up a little, partly from the Prince's praise and partly from his vicinity. Like many others before him, he found Newt's looks pleasing.. very, very pleasing.

"Thank you, your highness, I'm honoured," he said, trying to reign in his wayward emotions. After all, he was nothing but a poor knight. Newt was a prince, a very, very handsome prince. There was probably already a beautiful princess waiting to be his wife.

"Sir Thomas, are you all right?" Newt's voice shook him out of his thoughtful state.

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks." Thomas bent down to pick up his sword, hissing in pain as they made contact with the scratches left by the thorns, forgotten in the adrenaline of the fight with the duke.

"You are not all right, you are hurt," Newt said, taking his sword from him. "Do you have anything that can take care of this?"

Thomas nodded. "There're some supplies in my bags."

"Then let's go and leave behind this terrible place." Thomas could not agree more.

They spent a few minutes finding the mechanism to find the mechanism to open the portcullis, but finally they could leave. As they crossed the bridge, Thomas suddenly asked, "Your highness, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"How did you escape the dungeon?"

Newt grinned. "I found an old nail. It took me a while to manage to pick the lock. I guess I was lucky I escaped when I did."

Thomas chuckled, which turned into laughter when he saw his horse still tied to the tree, completely unharmed.

"May I?" Newt asked, nodding towards the saddlebags. Thomas nodded and Newt rummaged around until he found a small leather bag, containing salves, herbs and bandages. "Hold out your hands," he said and Thomas obeyed. Newt spread the healing salve over his hands, rubbing it in gently. Thomas had to repress a shiver at the feeling. Finally, Newt let go, making Thomas feel both relieved and disappointed.

"I'll ride while you rest," Newt said, already swinging up into the saddle.

"No, your highness, I..."

"Please, Thomas, stop calling me 'your highness'. Just call me Newt - Prince's orders," he quickly interjected. "Now, I've spent the last months in a dungeon, whereas you've killed a Griever and fought against one of the greatest swordsmen in the entire kingdom. You need the rest more than I do."

Thomas honestly could not deny he was getting really tired. "I guess so, your... Newt." Newt grinned at him, grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the saddle. Thomas promptly wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head upon the other man's shoulder. The castle was barely out of sight before he fell asleep.

The journey home lasted much longer than the journey out. Newt insisted on more rests more often to check on Thomas's hands and to make sure he was getting enough to eat and sleep.

However, Thomas knew they would be back to the Capital all too soon. What would happen then? Would he be dismissed as soon as the celebrations were over, or would he be allowed to stay and watch as Newt married. Would he be there to watch him have children? Would he get to spend the rest of his life watching Newt never returning his feelings?

He would not be able to do that.

"So," Newt suddenly said as they were both sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree during another rest, "we will be home soon." Thomas made an affirmative noise. "But before we get there, there is a matter I would like to clear up."

"What matter?" Thomas asked.

"This," Newt said, suddenly scooting forward, pressing his lips to his. Thomas's eyes widened in surprise, before falling shut as his hands made their way into Newt's blonde locks. His kind went blissfully blank even after Newt ever so slowly broke the kiss.

"I want to be with you, Thomas," Newt said, the usually confident young man looking rather shy, "even if my father disapproves, even if I have to give up everything. I want to be with you forever."

Thomas grinned and, finding that any string of words he could possibly have come up with would be woefully inadequate, leaned forward to kiss Newt again.

The two men slowly separated and their hands intertwined gently. Before long, they continued their journey, now sneaking in kisses whenever they could.

Later, there would be a triumphant return. There would be speeches and celebrations, secret and not-so-secret kisses and acceptance. Even later, the entire country would celebrate as their new kings would be crowned, the two men standing on the balcony, waving and kissing.

They were going to live happily ever after.