m_findlow

Title: Sleeping beauty
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto, David, Mica
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 6,900 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for June Special Challenge - Fairy Tale Fusion at fffc
Summary: Ianto finally gets a turn at story telling.

'Off to bed with you lot,' Ianto ordered as soon as the show was over, flicking the television off before anyone could protest.

'But it's only eighty thirty!' David complained. 'Mum let's us stay up until nine at least.'

'And I'm the Queen of Sheba,' Ianto replied, knowing his sister's kids would bargain for their lives to stay up late, using all kinds of lies to pull the wool over his eyes. Those sorts of stories might work on Jack when he was here babysitting them on his own, but it wasn't going to carry water with him.

'It is on the early side,' Jack argued, 'and it's not even a school night.'

And Ianto knew that by the time he got both of them dressed for bed, teeth brushed, glasses of water organised and whatever else, it would be at least that late before they were being tucked in.

'Can we at least have a bedtime story, Uncle Ianto?' Mica begged.

Devil children, he thought. Always use the youngest, cutest one to get what you want. They were in cahoots, for sure. 'Fine, but only if you're in bed by no later than quarter to.' That sent them both scrambling off the sofa and up the stairs, jostling each other out of the way to get to the bathroom first.

'You little blackmailer, you,' Jack grinned, watching them disappear. 'Why don't I go make sure world war three doesn't break out while you tidy up the kitchen,' he offered.

'Anything to get you out of doing the dishes,' Ianto replied, but giving Jack a quick peck on the cheek as thanks for helping with the kids.

'See you soon,' Jack said, following them up the stairs.

Ianto was quite pleased once he came upstairs, finding both of them tucked up in their spare room, fitted out specifically with two single beds for just such occasions. David was bouncing up and down impatiently, whilst Mica already had her collection of teddies arranged next to her against the wall. Jack was just drawing down the blind when Ianto came in.

'You're getting to be an expert at babysitting,' Ianto teased, enjoying the picture of Jack being so domestic. 'So, any suggestions for what story you want?'

'I want an Uncle Jack story,' David said.

'I want Uncle Ianto to tell it,' Mica replied.

'Something with dragons,' David added, hopping onto the end of Mica's bed with his blanket as Jack and Ianto settled themselves on the bed.

Ianto rolled his eyes. Jack had spoilt them rotten with his own outlandish made up fairy tales, that usually involved real people, but almost always with him as the dashing hero protagonist. No one had an imagination as wild as Jack.

'Dragons?' Jack repeated. 'I'm sure I can come up with something,' he said.

'I seem to recall they want me to tell it?' Ianto replied, relishing the attention.

Jack rolled his eyes. 'Well, sure. I mean, if you want a boring story.'

'My stories are not boring. Just because I read them from a real book.'

'Exactly.'

'I can make up stuff too, you know.'

'Go on, then,' Jack challenged.

'Fine. Right, so once upon a time,'

'Boring!'

'Shut up. If you don't like it, you can leave, and you can sleep on the sofa.' That shut up him up.

'So, once upon a time, there was a kingdom tucked away deep within a mountainous valley, with a magnificent castle whose turrets were so tall, they almost touched the clouds. And in this castle lived the King and Queen of the realm, along with all of their serving staff and counselors.

On this particular day, there was a great celebration in the castle for the King and Queen had just had a son, who would be the Prince and inherit the entire kingdom when he came of age. They had tried for many years to have a child, and had finally been blessed by the gods. They had invited guests from all over to come and celebrate the christening. It was a doubly special occasion as it would also mark the day that the Prince would be promised to another. The King's best friend, a King himself from the grand city of Newtown in a faraway realm, also had a son, and it had been agreed that the two princes would be bound together in a ceremony on the new Prince's sixteenth birthday which would forever unite the two kingdoms in peace and prosperity.

'Ianto, did you just put a gay marriage into a fairy tale?'

'Shush. I never said marriage. Besides, it's a very progressive kingdom.'

'But what if he's into girls?'

'And what if he was betrothed to a Princess and he was into boys?'

'She might be really hot.'

'Can we please just assume that this is all perfectly acceptable?'

'I'm just saying you're taking liberties.'

'Oh, and a giant cyberman living in a castle in the clouds at the top of a giant beanstalk isn't?' he said, reminding Jack of some of his more creative licence.

'Point taken. Carry on.'

'Thank you. Now, where was I? That's right, so the whole kingdom was gathered at the castle to celebrate the christening and the betrothal. The Prince's intended was only a small boy himself, only two years older, and he poked his head curiously over the edge of the gilded crib, completely unaware of what this tiny baby would mean to him many years from now. The King's best friend had brought a gift for the young Prince to offer the King and Queen, a delicate bracelet that the Prince could wear made of fine leather and silver. It was far too big for the baby right now, but once he was older, he'd be able to wear it. The young Prince offered it to the baby, watching him toy with it.

Also in attendance at the Prince's christening were three conjurors, skilled in the art of magic and transfiguration. The kingdom had always been under threat from evil forces that lurked in the dark places beyond the mountains, but the conjurors had served the realm well in keeping those evil spirits at bay, using their respective skills to defend the valley and all the people that lived within it.

Each of the conjurors attended the King and Queen in turn offering their own special gifts. The first conjuror, Owaindyr, skilled in healing and herb lore, gave the Prince the gift of grace, that he might be the most handsome and strongest Prince that ever lived, blessed with good health and long life.'

'Ah, ha, you made Owen a fairy,' Jack giggled.

'Not a fairy,' Ianto said, 'a conjuror. Conjurors are both male and female. Anyway, the second conjuror, Gwendolyn, a master of divination and the higher powers of the human spirit, gave the Prince the gift of song, that his voice might always be gentle and kind, but at its finest when he sang. Both the King and Queen were in awe of these gift with which their son was now blessed.

The third conjuror, Toshenydd, was about to bestow her own gift when suddenly there was a blaze of lighting and a sharp crack. From out of a large ball of malevolent orange flame came a man dressed in filthy robes, the colour of blood. He himself was also a conjuror, known to the other three as the terrible Hartigan, for he had no heart, and was the epitome of all things evil. He had been banished from the realm many years ago by the three good conjurors for trying to use his wickedness to ruin the kingdom.

The three conjurors threaten to banish Hartigan from the castle once and for all, but before they can, the evil conjuror explains that he has come to give his own gift to the new Prince. He cursed the Prince, for he is a very selfish being who desires that none be more beautiful or charming than he, and vengeful for his banishment, declares that some time before the Prince turns sixteen years old, he will prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. Before the conjurors could do anything else, the evil Hartigan disappeared once more into a ball of flame.

The King and Queen are horrified by the curse and beg the good conjurors to do something to reverse it. Unfortunately, though they are very talented, they are not nearly as strong as Hartigan, since two of them had already used their best magic to bestow their gifts. Toshenydd however, who was the most knowledgeable of the three of them, who had intended on giving the Prince the gift of wisdom, instead used all her powers to alter the curse, so that should it come to pass, the Prince would not die, but only fall into a deep sleep until a true love's kiss broke the curse.

Fearful that the conjuror might find out that his curse had been tampered with and return to exact his revenge, the King ordered that every spinning wheel in the realm be destroyed, and that never again would they produce the fine silks that they had been so famous for. Every last spinning wheel in every last home and workshop was gathered in the courtyard and burned on that night.

Worried that Hartigan might find another way to ensure the curse was fulfilled, the conjurors agreed to spirit the Prince away and keep him hidden until his sixteenth birthday when finally the curse would be broken and it would be safe for him to return to his home and his family. And so the conjurors took the baby under the cover of darkness and secreted him away to a cottage deep in the woods in a valley far from the one of his birth, and was renamed Grayson in case anyone should ever ask his name. None could ever know that the boy was truly the royal Prince Jack, and heir to the great kingdom of the valley.'

'Hey, that's me!'

Ianto rolled his eyes. 'Yes, Jack.'

'Well,' he said, shifting the bed covers so that he could tuck his feet under them for warmth, 'I just assumed you'd make yourself the star of the story. That's what I do.'

'I know,' Ianto replied drolly. 'There had to be some concession to not letting you take over story time.'

Jack preened. 'Please continue then.'

'So, for many years the Prince was hidden away in the woodland cottage, living with the three conjurors who raised the young Prince as if he were a child of their own. Because of the ever present danger that Hartigan might have eyes watching over the forest, the conjurors on that first night cast a spell that would hide their true faces, giving them the appearance of ordinary mortals. They hid away their fine robes and donned peasants garments, and forbade the use of any magic, stowing away all of their magical elixirs, spellbooks, and other charmed objects. They also had to give up their other duties to the realm, leaving it open to attack by foes and foul things. It pained them to do so, since they had given many years of loyal duty to their realm, but there was too much risk in revealing themselves and what they had kept hidden in the woods.

And so the Prince grew up a peasant boy, raised by the aunts and uncle who devoted their lives to him. They used their collective wisdom to teach him all that they could, though they never once revealed that he was the Prince and heir. In their own way, they grew to love him as a son, and as the years went by, Grayson grew in stature, graceful and handsome, honest and kind and sweet of voice.

Despite all the love and kindness that the three conjurors showed the boy, he was still very much alone and often took to wandering through the woods as he fulfilled his chores, collecting mushrooms and apples to fill pies and stews. Whilst he wandered he sang or whistled, and the creatures of the forest were lured by his sweet tunes and befriended him, so that after that he never felt truly lonely.

More years passed and soon the boy was almost a man, only days from his sixteenth birthday. Whilst the conjurors knew that they had a duty to fulfill in returning him safely to the castle, they would be most aggrieved to part with the Prince who had become a son to them. So, on the eve of Grayson's sixteenth birthday, they meant to plan a great celebration, after which they would reveal the secret that they had guarded so closely for so many years. In order to prepare, they sent Grayson on a great many errands to collects all manner of herbs and fruits. The Prince was no fool and knew that they were up to something, but he went anyway, finding their overt lies endearing.

Whilst the Prince rambled through the woods, he sang a tune of his own design, bright and clear as the morning, forgetting all about the chores he'd been set. It was too beautiful a day and he was excited to know what his aunts and uncle had planned for his birthday. Not long after, as he was deep within the woods themselves, he heard the distinct sound of a horse. Knowing that strangers never came through the forest, and having been constantly warned by the conjurors to stay well clear of anyone who should enter the woods, the young Prince hid behind a tree, waiting for the stranger to pass.

As he hid, he caught a glimpse of the rider, and was immediately awestruck. It was no evil being, not like the kind he'd imagined from his guardian's dire warnings, but rather the most handsome young man he'd ever seen, tall and elegant with sparkling blue eyes, and a horse that was more silver than white.'

'Hey, you can't be trumping me in the looks department,' Jack complained.

'I only said he was the most handsome man the Prince had ever seen. The only other man he's ever seen is Owaindyr, so it's all relative,' Ianto replied.

Jack grumbled. 'If you say so.'

'I do. Now, the Prince had no idea that the man on the horse was himself Prince Ianto of Newtown, nor that he'd been on his way to the castle to finally meet the Prince to whom he'd been promised sixteen years ago.

"We're lost, aren't we?" the Prince said to his steed. "That will teach us for trying to take a shortcut." The horse whickered beneath him, as if to suggest that he had nothing to do with it. "It's all my fault, I suppose," the Prince went on. "If only we hadn't tried to find the man to whom that beautiful voice belonged. Father will be most upset if we don't reach the castle by nightfall."

Sympathising with the Prince's plight, Grayson came out from his hiding spot. He felt guilty that it was on account of him that the Prince had gotten so helplessly lost. "Hello," he said.

The Prince was startled by the sudden voice, but knew immediately that it must belong to the singer he'd heard. It was too sweet to be otherwise. He was also struck by how handsome the man was, forgetting all about his duty to continue on to the castle. "Are you the man I heard singing?"

"Yes. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble," Grayson said, forgetting all about warnings of strangers.

Prince Ianto laughed. "No trouble at all. I never heard a song so beautiful."

The two Princes very quickly became friends, and before either of them knew it, they'd fallen in love. Grayson had given the Prince directions on how to find a path out of the woods, and the Prince had promised that just as soon as he reached the castle he was going to tell his father that he intended to return here and stay with Grayson. He laughed at that, telling him he might find it rather tricky to live in the same cottage as he and his three guardians.

"We can build a cottage of our own," the Prince suggested. "Or you could come back with me. The city I come from is very beautiful and I'm sure you would love it there."

The idea of a whole city full of people made his head spin. It would have spun even more if he'd known that Ianto was the Prince, but he was too modest to confess that. Not that it mattered. Grayson would have adored him even if he'd been the poorest beggar in the land. What an adventure that would be though, travelling to some other place. But he couldn't leave right away. He loved his aunts and uncle too much to just abandon them.

"I have to go," Grayson said, knowing he would need to tell them about the man he'd met and his plans, "as do you, but meet me at the woodland cottage by the stream tonight and we can go wherever we want, together.". From his wrist he undid the leather bracelet that he'd always worn for as long as he could remember. It was the only thing of value he owned, the intricate silver design woven into the leather. "Take this as a promise that you'll return," he said, carefully strapping it around the Prince's wrist. Reluctantly the Prince mounted his horse and left, determined to reach the castle as quickly as he could to tell his father the news.'

'This is just a mushy love story,' David complained. 'Where are the dragons?'

'They're later on,' Ianto promised. 'For now, you'll just have to wait.'

'I don't mind waiting,' Jack said. 'What's more romantic than love at first sight?' he said, squeezing Ianto closer.

'Behave,' Ianto warned him. 'There's a lot of story still to go.'

'So, Grayson, on cloud nine, convinced he'd met the man of his dreams, skipped all the way back to the cottage. He didn't care that he would be returning too soon, and having forgotten to collect half the things on the long list he'd been given, upsetting whatever preparations his aunts and uncle were making. He couldn't wait to tell them the news. It was better than any birthday celebration.

When he arrived home however, his guardian's weren't upset that he'd spoiled their surprise, but that he'd spoken with the strange Prince and had even given him the whereabouts of their cottage. In their minds there was a fear that the Prince was nothing more than the terrible Hartigan in disguise, something he was very adept at. If he came to the cottage tonight, he'd recognise them immediately, able to see straight through the enchantments, and realise that the young man was the Prince that had been hidden away so many years ago. They had planned on celebrating his birthday tonight and revealing the truth of his heritage, knowing that tomorrow he could return to the castle that had ever been his home, safe in the knowledge that Hartigans's curse would be broken, and the Prince out of danger. Now however, they knew they couldn't stay.

"You shouldn't have spoken to that stranger," Gwendolyn said.

Grayson couldn't understand why they were so upset. He knew they were very protective, but he'd never been in any danger. He adored the Prince and the Prince he. They were meant to be together, he knew that much.

"You must never see this man again," Owaindyr said.

"But I love him."

Toshenydd took Grayson by the hands, trying to be more sympathetic. "You cannot because you are already promised to another," she said, and so she began to explain to the Prince who he really was. She told him all about the terrible conjuror who had wished him harm, though not wanting to scare him, she said nothing of the curse apart from the fact that it would be broken at midnight.

"But I don't want to marry some stranger," Grayson replied, unable to fathom that even that wasn't his real name. His whole life had been a lie.

"You are the Prince," Gwendolyn said. "The castle is beautiful and the people of the kingdom are good and kind."

"I don't care if they're good and kind. I want to stay here." He loved the woodland, even if it was at times lonely, and the three conjurors had shown him all their love. Up until earlier that day, he'd never known anyone else, and how much more love there was in the world.

"You have a duty to return to the kingdom and resume your duties as heir to your father's realm," Owaindyr said, taking no argument from the boy.

"We'll have to leave," Toshenydd said. "Tonight. We can't risk this man coming here." She rushed around, packing what few provisions they had. They could make it to the castle just before nightfall if they hurried. The Prince could be stowed away in one of the castles many rooms until the night was done and the curse broken.

Whilst the Prince was hurt that he'd been lied to, it was nothing compared to the heartbreak of knowing he'd never again see his true love. He refused to belive that he was anyone other that who he'd claimed to be.'

'Meanwhile, the Prince whom Jack had met was steaming towards the castle on his horse, eagerly awaited by his father who had traveled there days earlier to discuss trade matters with his friend the King. Because of the ban on cloth making set by the King all those years ago, they relied on Newtown to produce and ship them every last bolt of cloth that the kingdom required. He was impatiently waiting in the courtyard when finally the Prince pulled up his horse.

"And what took you so long?" he complained.

"I got lost in the woods and met the most wonderful man."

The King of Newtown looked annoyed. "I don't understand what you're on about."

"I fell in love, Father."

"You can't fall in love. You're betrothed to Prince Jack. He'll be here in a few days and you'll be married."

"I don't care, Father. I've come to tell you that I'm not going ahead with this planned marriage of yours."

"But you must!" he sputtered. "You are eighteen and old enough to take on the responsibilities of leadership. It is your duty."

"The kingdom does not need an alliance by marriage. I've made a promise to Grayson." He showed off the bracelet. He hadn't been able to stop admiring it, knowing that he wanted to return it as it was clearly precious.

"Then you tell the King that his son is not good enough for you," his father said, slapping his arm away.

"Maybe I will," the Prince replied, "but later. For now, I must return to the cottage in the woods as promised. I hope that when I return home, you will be there to welcome us both." And with that, he turned away, mounting his horse once more and leaving.'

'The journey on foot through the woods and the mountains was arduous, but finally the Prince, accompanied by the three conjurors, reached the castle's great keep walls. It was the largest and most extraordinary structure the young Prince had ever seen, towers shooting ever upwards into the sky. Still, seeing it felt only more like he was entering a prison. It was hard to imagine that inside those wall were his parents, two people he'd never met. They might not even like him, let alone love him, which made him despair even more. On this his sixteenth birthday, he should have been happy, but instead he felt the weight of the world crushing down on him.'

'Uncle Ianto, what's the weight of the world?' Mica asked.

'It means he was very sad, pumpkin,' Jack replied. 'Stop using big words, Ianto. It's a children's story.'

'Sorry,' he apologised. 'I'll try and keep it simple so that even you can understand,' he quipped.

'The conjurors lead the Prince into the castle and to a room where he could wait until they had met with the King and Queen. News that their son had returned early would leave them shocked, and unprepared to finally meet the man that their tiny baby had become. They gave Prince Jack instruction not to leave the room, still worried that Hartigan might have somehow followed them through the woods and to the castle. And so, alone once more, in the cold, dark room, the Prince was left to await his fate.'

'Meanwhile, Prince Ianto was once again riding back through the valley, headed for the woodland cottage where his true love would be waiting for him. The further he rode from the castle, the more guilty he felt at having disappointed his father, but how could he ask him to marry someone he didn't even know when he'd just found his one true love? He was certain that once his father met Grayson, all would be forgotten, and they would be allowed to wed and live out their days in happiness.

Little did Prince Ianto know, but when Jack had given him the bracelet, it too had been placed under a spell by Hartigan on the day of his christening. Should it ever reach the castle walls again, Hartigan would be able to sense it and know that the Prince had returned to the castle, whereupon he would finally be able to lay his hands on the Prince.

As soon as Ianto had dismounted in the courtyard, Hartigan was able to sense the bracelet's hidden power, and he immediately followed it, the Prince leading him back to the cottage in the woods. Only Hartigan got there first and lay in wait for what he thought would be Prince Jack. When it was revealed that the Prince was looking for a young man, Hartigan cleverly realised that the man the Prince had fallen in love with was Prince Jack, and that the conjurors must have taken him back to the castle. Knowing that there was always a risk Prince Ianto might attempt to break any curse, he kidnapped the Prince and locked him away in the deepest darkest dungeons of his lair in the mountains, telling him he would never again see his beloved Prince. Hartigan was running out of time to complete the curse. Knowing that the Prince must now be at the castle, he transformed himself into a huge black dragon and flew all the way there.'

'Alone in the castle, Prince Jack sat by the fireplace feeling miserable. Perhaps he should have felt happy, but why did he have to meet the Ianto on today of all days. He didn't know that the man he'd met was the one to whom he had been promised. Not that it mattered since the Prince had reneged on the agreement and left. And after tonight, his aunts and uncle would leave him here. He never felt more alone. He hated sitting there and waiting, so despite the warnings not to move, he went to explore the tower.

It was a long narrow stone passage with stairs that spiraled up and up. At each wooden door he wanted to explore what lay beyond, but found himself locked out, until he reached the room at the very top. This one opened easily and he stepped inside.

Within, there were piles of the finest silks and fabrics imaginable. He'd never seen cloth so fine, and it was soft and smooth to touch, far finer than anything he'd ever worn. It reminded him of the fine clothes Ianto had been wearing, which made him sad again. Then, out of the shadows stepped a bent old woman.

"Who are you?" the Prince asked.

"Just a weaver," she replied, bowing low.

"You made these?" he asked. "How?"

"It is a rare skill these days," she said. "None know anymore how to use a spindle to weave threads." She pointed to the large wooden wheel and pedal. He'd never seen anything like it.

"How does it work?"

"Try it for yourself," she said, watching his every move.

He ran a hand over the wheel, letting it gently spin under his palm, fascinated by it, following the thread from the reel, through the wheel, and finally spotting the end at which the thread began. Curious, he touched the spindle, recoiling at its sharpness, before collapsing on the ground.

"At last!" the old woman cried, transforming back into the conjuror Hartigan. The Prince may not have been dead, but he would sleep forever now, knowing that the Prince's true love would rot away to old age in Hartigan's prison.'

'Half an hour later, the three conjurors returned to the tower ready to take the Prince to finally reunite with his parents. When they found him missing from the room, a frantic search began, looking for the Prince. Toshenydd was the one to find him at the top of the tower, crumpled on the floor, a spinning wheel next to him.

"Oh, no," she cried. They'd been too late. The evil Hartigan had somehow found out the Prince was here and tricked him into touching the spinning wheel.

The three conjurors were devastated. What on earth were they going to tell the King and Queen? Only a true love's kiss would break the spell now. They were still debating the matter on their way to the throne room when they were accosted by the King of Newtown .

"You'll have to call the whole thing off for now," he grumbled. "That fool son of mine has taken off. Claims he won't marry the Prince now because of some fellow he met in the woods today that he's fallen madly in love with."

Gwendolyn looked shocked. "You don't suppose?" she said.

"It would be quite a coincidence," Owaindyr replied. Could it really be that Jack had met his Prince and fallen in love?

"Where is he, do you know?" Gwendolyn asked.

"Didn't I just say? Gone off to meet him somewhere."

"The cottage!" Toshenydd said, remembering what Jack had said about bringing his love to meet them. "We have to find the Prince and bring him back here. "

Before they left, they carried Prince Jack over to the bed in the room at the top of the tower, destroy the spinning wheel, and setting a spell over castle that would put all of them to sleep. The conjurors hoped that they would be able to save the Prince, but if not, no one else within the castle would age a day until they could find a way to break the curse.'

'By the time they reached the cottage, they knew the Prince wasn't there. The cottage itself had been destroyed, along with all of their magical potions and artifacts, which though hidden, would have been easy for a fellow conjuror to find. They knew that Hartigan had been here, and knew that he must have kidnapped Prince.

Hartigan's mountain lair was a dangerous place to get to, but the conjurors knew that they had to go there and to free the Prince if they were to have any hope of saving Prince Jack. Hartigan knew that the place was so well protected that their magic could not work there. What he didn't know however was that the conjurors had embedded some of their own magic into the bracelet which had been a gift from the Prince. It wasn't much, just a tiny store of magic that they could access if the Prince ever were captured. Now that Prince Ianto wore it, it gave them just enough power to be able to sneak past Hartigan 's many defences and into his inner sanctum, finally locating the Prince and releasing him from his prison.

"Who are you, and how did you know I was here?" the Prince asked.

"You met a man in the woods today," Owaindyr said.

"Yes. The conjuror attacked me when I arrived at the cottage to meet him. He told me Grayson is actually the Prince."

"It's true," Toshenydd said. Hartigan has placed a terrible curse on him and he will sleep forever unless a true love's kiss can wake him. You must go to him and save him. And hurry. Hartigan will know soon that we have broken you out and he will try to stop you."

"I have nothing with which to fight a conjuror," the Prince said. "Only a horse and whatever haste I can make."

The conjurors had nothing to give him. Everything they'd had was destroyed back at the cottage. It wasn't until Gwendolyn spotted the rusted shield and sword lying next to the prison cell door, most likely a remnant from its last prisoner. Using what little magic was left in the bracelet, the conjurors remade both sword and shield, empowering them with protective enchantments.

"These will grow in power the further away from Hartigan's lair you get," she told him.

He looked at them, not believing for a second that they were anything more than a regular sword and shield, but taking them and hurrying to his horse, which had been chained up, just like he had been.'

'Both the Prince and the horse flew down the mountain, determined to reach the castle as quickly as possible. When finally the Prince reached the edge of the woods, breaking into a gallop along the road that lead all the way to the castle gates, he noticed that the castle seemed shrouded. Hartigan, enraged that the Prince had somehow escaped, had conjured up a huge thorn bush that enveloped the castle in huge tangles of thick sharp thorns. For any axe, it was impenetrable, more like steel than plant, but there was some magic in that sword the Prince had been given, that allowed it to cut through the thorns. The Prince began hacking away at it, though it might take him hours to cut a gap, he would not give up. Not ever.

Furious that the Prince was breaking down his barriers, Hartigan decided to take matters into his own hands. Transforming back into his dragon form, he flew towards the castle, determined to kill the Prince.'

'Oh, wait, now I see what you did. You make me the damsel in distress and you get to be the dashing heroic Prince,' Jack sulked.

'Well, it is my story. And someone needs to slay the evil dragon.'

'Are you sure it's the dragon you wanted to slay? Not Hartigan?'

'It's a fairy tale, Jack. There is no subtext.'

'If you say so. '

'Don't interrupt, Uncle Jack,' David said. 'It's just getting good.'

Ianto beamed and poked his tongue out at Jack, childish as it was.

'The Prince was still hacking away at the thorns when a huge breath of hot air nearly knocked him off his feet. When he turned around, he came face to face with the most terrible dragon he'd ever seen. Hartigan was huge and black, with scales that glinted and huge talons at the end of each of his four muscular legs. His wings were fifty feet across at least, and his tail just as long, with razor sharp barbs running all the way from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. His teeth with equally as sharp, but it was the fire that shot from his mouth that was most dangerous. Before he could think, a huge ball of flame came shooting straight at him. He held up his shield, expecting to be burnt alive, but the flames deflected off its surface, which only incensed the dragon even more. He should have been burnt to a crisp. It was those wretched conjurors and their spells again, he thought.

The Prince tried to swing his sword at the dragon's front leg, but the scales that covered it were like steel themselves, unable to be penetrated. The dragon breathed more fire, forcing the Prince backwards toward the thorny brambles, catching on his clothes and knicking his arms and legs as he tried to fight off the huge beast.

Hartigan threw down another wave of fire and the Prince ducked under the dragon's body, trying to avoid it. Hartigan grinned to himself, knowing that with his huge weight, all he had to do now was lower himself and he would squash the Prince beneath him like a grape. He dropped on all fours, but as he did so, the Prince ducked and rolled, lying on his back as the enormous dragon meant to crush him. He thrust his sword up vertically and the blade, with whatever magic was left in it, pierced the dragon's scales and went straight into his heart. He had no way of knowing that a dragon's underside is much softer, only hoping to stop himself from being completely crushed. The dragon roared out in agony, before rolling onto his side, the sword still lodged in him, now finally dead.

The Prince removed the sword once he was certain the dragon conjuror was dead and continued to cut a way through the thorns. They fell away much more easily now that the conjurors magic had died along with him, and soon he was through the gates, running towards the highest tower in the castle, knowing than was where the other conjurors had left the Prince. It was a thousand steps to the very top of the tower, but he never stopped running.

When he finally reached the room and saw the Prince lying there, his heart despaired. There was his Prince whom he'd met only today, helplessly trapped in a curse of eternal sleep, sad and beautiful. He hoped that the conjurors were right and that something as simple as a kiss would break the spell. If it didn't, he might as well put his sword through his own heart rather than live out the rest of his days.'

'Oh, please let the Prince be alright,' Mica said, gripping her uncle tightly.

'Yeah, Ianto. Hurry up and get on with kissing me,' Jack said.

'Would that were all it took to get you out of bed,' Ianto replied. 'Most days, that's what ends up making us stay in bed even longer.'

'Ew,' David said. He loved his uncles, but thinking about them kissing was more than he could bear.

Ianto cleared his throat awkwardly. 'He leant over and kissed the Prince, and no sooner had he done that, the Prince awoke, as did everyone else in the castle.

Prince Jack was surprised to find his true love there, though happy also. "I dreamt that you would come back for me," he said.

"Not even the fiercest dragon in all of the lands could stop me," he replied.

'And so, with the two Princes reunited, and the kingdom safe once more, there was a great celebration that carried on for weeks, ringing in the prince's sixteenth birthday and also the union of two kingdoms. The conjurors returned to their duties to provide their knowledge and wisdom in service of the kingdom, though there was far less to protect it from now that Hartigan was destroyed. Instead their primary task was to bless the marriage of the two Princes and to restore some of the former glory of the kingdom, ravaged by those sixteen long years ot have been left to fend for itself.

Both Kings and Queens were delighted by the match their children made and that they were immensely happy together. Likewise, Prince Jack, though sad to leave the care of his aunts and uncle, found his parents very loving and kind people. Not wanting to leave them again so soon, he convinced the King of Newtown to let them stay here rather than return to the city where they would have ruled in the King's stead. He agreed to remain King until such time as they decided to leave the valley and return home. And so, from that day forth, they all lived happily ever after.'

'Yay!' cried Mica.

'That was awesome. The dragon slaying bit, I mean,' David said, not wanting to admit he'd rather enjoyed the story as a whole. 'Can we have more stories about killing dragons?'

'Not all dragons are evil,' Ianto replied, 'just as not to all conjurors are bad. In fact, there's lots of good dragons. Fierce and terrifying, yes, but good. That's why we have one on our flag.'

'Have you met any dragons, Uncle Ianto?' Mica asked.

'No, but I hear they're very shy. They prefer just to be left alone.'

'They're out there,' Jack promised, 'hiding in the valleys, maybe even sleeping under the mountains at Cwm Noddfa. But you have to be very lucky to spot one. You'll only find him if he wants to be found.'

David seemed disappointed by that. 'Can we maybe go up to and look at the aliens instead, then?'

'Yeah!' Mica squealed. 'I wanna cuddle the Grimbles again.'

'Sure,' Jack replied. 'Maybe next weekend we can take a trip up there.'

Ianto chuckled. Who needed fairy tales when you had a sanctuary full of real live aliens?