Withering (1?)

Rating: T

Warnings: Uh…violence, character death, romance that could be considered necrophilia , gratuitous abuse of our favorite halfa.

Pairings: DxS, TxJ

Summary: Based loosely off "Beauty and the Beast." A prince cursed to walk among the dead, and a maiden drawn to it…can she save him before all the petals wither away?

Note: Part of my mini Disney project…and because I think it's high time that Sam does some heroic work for a helpless Danny !

Disclaimer: I, in no way shape or form, own anything affiliated with Danny Phantom…Butch Hartmann and Nickelodeon has that honor. Nor do I own anything affiliated with Disney…I'm just borrowing and warping a story they borrowed. I'm a mere college girl attempting to entertain herself.

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Chapter One: A Curse and a Wish

It is said that long ago, at least by mortal reckoning, there lived a mighty king, known throughout the lands as only Jack, and his beautiful queen in a wondrous castle of white marble and stone. The king, while bumbling and foolish at times with his eccentric inventions, was an exceptionally good ruler, and his wife was his equal...a huntress whose wild spirit could not be tamed. They ruled their lands for many years in peace, bearing a daughter whose red hair shown bright in the sun, and the people loved their rulers. However, things were not all well.

Deep in the mountains, there lived a sorcerer, known only by Plasmius, who hated the mighty king with all his black heart. The reasons that most people believed was that he was jealous of the power that the king wielded, and wanted the kingdom for his own…but that was only a small part of the answer, and a much lighter side at that. The true reason was that Plasmius, despite his evil soul, loved the queen with all his heart, and scorned the man whom he thought had stolen her away from him. As he continued to live in his seclusion, his bitterness festered within his soul until it all but consumed him…and he decided to strike back at the king and make him pay.

During all this time, the queen, known by Maddie to her subjects, gave birth to another child…a son with ebon-black hair and glittering blue eyes, and the lands rejoiced at the new heir to their kingdom. The son grew into a precocious boy, and it was often seen around the household the prince scampering around with a dark-skinned boy and creating all sorts of mayhem. And it was on the child's sixteenth birthday, the day that he would become a man that everything changed.

The sorcerer, Plasmius, disguised his face with a glamour, hiding the red of his eyes and the pale hue of his skin with those colors more normally seen among the world of mortals, and decided to attend the boy's majority…with a plan to make King Jack suffer for the crimes he committed against his person. After all had presented their gifts to the young prince, Plasmius stepped forward and demanded that the king relinquish his hold on the kingdom and his wife or a great calamity would befall him…casting off the glamour as he spoke and silently reveling in the gasps of fear that ran through the attending household and townsfolk.

King Jack refused, declaring that nothing done to him would ever convince him to hand over those whom he loved to a madman…he did not fear death or enchantment. And ere he struck, Plasmius smiled awfully and narrowed his deep crimson eyes at the four defiant royals, a smile that chilled the very room to the bone. Even as the royal guards struck out with arrows and bolts, Plasmius unleashed a wave of magenta energy that enveloped the entire chamber, urging many gathered to scream in both pain and fear as they felt their very essence warped.

Plasmius spoke aloud in a fanatical tone as the king and queen disappeared from the chamber in a flash of magenta, proclaiming to all present the doom he placed upon the royal family, and also on all who served them as friends and subjects alike. The young prince, whom he hated the most and wanted desperately to serve him forever as a slave to punish the king for stealing away the woman he loved, would be cursed to walk among the dead and the living…a part of both but belonging to neither.

The prince would have the equivalent of a hundred mortal years to break the curse, a curse that could only be broken by a maiden who willingly loved the prince for the monster he was, before he would die completely…his soul forever imprisoned by Plasmius. He did not speak of what befell the king and queen, leaving only a single, enchanted rose that bloomed a brilliant shade of lilac…a rose that would count down how long the prince had to reverse the curse and free his and his father's people from their curses as well.

And then he disappeared along with the magenta light…leaving a confused crowd behind who no longer could feel anything.

The prince let out a shallow breath as he craned his head up to look into his sister's saddened face…a face that no longer held the brilliant rosy hue and turquoise eyes that now glowed a neon green. And when a mirror was raised before him, he no longer saw the black hair and blue eyes he had grown with…they were replaced with snowy white and vivid green, along with slightly paler skin and a perpetual cold air around him. It was just as Plasmius had cursed him…neither a boy nor a spirit, but rather something awful in between.

His sister and closest companion urged him not to lose hope, that they would find a way to reverse what had been done, and also free their parents wherever they may have been taken to. But, as years passed, echoed only by the changing of the seasons and the decaying of the once proud castle, and no maiden had yet to prove she could love someone who was part ghost and part human, the prince fell into despair and turned bitter against the world for judging him so cruelly as some monster.

Besides, who could ever learn to love a halfa?

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"Samantha!" a voice screeched from the backdoor of a rather large farm house, jolting the daydreaming girl out of her reverie. "Stop that incessant doodling this instant and get yourself back in this house now! You'll never be ready for the grand ball the Mayor is throwing tonight if you don't come in now!"

The aforementioned Samantha, known better as Sam throughout the town, rolled her lilac eyes at her mother's voice and shut her black drawing book with a frown. She really hadn't meant to incur her mother's wrath today, she knew how much her mother loved to show off her status at local town events, but all the strange dreams she had been having of late were gnawing at her mind. She thought if she'd draw them down, give solid reality to her daydreams, that she'd be able to make better sense of them…alas, all she was rewarded with was a rather intricate looking flower and a mysterious castle that looked a bit dark, even for her.

Sam pushed herself off the ground while cradling her drawing book, brushing her free hand on her dark green grubbing dress to get rid of dirt and grass, and walked toward her anxious looking mother; the woman could not be anymore blatant about her impatience Sam thought to herself with a small smirk. "I'm sorry, Mother…I guess I just lost track of the time."

"Well, hurry up and get dressed!" her small, red-haired mother said briskly as she ushered the smaller girl inside with hurried hands. "Mayor Baxter is expecting us to look our best, and with your father away on business, it's up to us to maintain the Manson name."

Sam frowned to herself as she shut her bedroom door behind her, silencing any more of her mother's comments for the time being…her mother wanted her to look her best in hopes to marry her off to the mayor's son. Sam snorted to herself as she pulled off her more 'common' clothing and slid into new undergarments…the moment she'd marry that boorish excuse for a man called Dashiel Baxter was when she'd wear pink willingly; it just wasn't going to happen. Her father understood, he always had known that Sam wanted more in life than to be married off and continue her life as a socialite…she wanted adventure and excitement.

Sam shook her head as she pulled on a thin under-gown, and opened her door to allow her mother's servants to help with the rest of her outfit. She hated going to the balls, she really did, but at least she was able to pick out gown colors on her own…and making sure there wasn't a pastel color in sight, much to her mother's chagrin. The dressing maids helped her put on a flowing, dark blue gown, with a bodice shaded in a lighter blue and laced up with white ribbons. Those same white ribbon were threaded threw her dark black hair, leaving wisps to frame her face, and then she slid on dark blue slippers to complete the outfit.

She glanced at herself in the mirror as the maids hurried out to fetch her mother, placing a single choker around her throat, shaded the same dark blue as the gown, as she appraised herself. She was short, but not overly, and had a slender frame that her mother liked to compare to a dancer's. Her skin was a pale cream, and she looked like a gothic beauty with her dark hair and violet eyes…she always thought it funny that she inherited her radical grandmother's looks when both her parents were fair of hair and eyes. She supposed she looked well enough, not that she cared much in the first place, and felt ready to brave yet another night of utter boredom while her mother simpered and coddled with the town's elite and those her own age coddled with themselves.

"Must you always choose such dark colors, Samantha?" her mother asked with a sigh as she looped her arm with her daughter's and directed them both toward their waiting coach. "Why not try a sunny yellow, or a blossoming pink for a change?"

"I'm a creature of the night," Sam replied with a smirk, muffling her laughter at her mother's affronted look. "I don't do sunshine."

Her mother heaved a huffy sigh as she climbed into the coach, saying nothing further about the matter and opting to glare at her rebellious daughter instead. Sam was thankful for the silence; it gave her time to think and pretend like her life was more than what it was. The coach began moving past the Manson home and lands and into the inner town itself…but Sam was too lost in her thoughts to see anything beyond her reflection on the coach window.

She and her family had moved to the sleep little town of Amity Park some four years past, when she had just turned twelve and began seriously rebelling against the role her mother wished for her to play in society. Her father, a renowned inventor, had decided to move to Amity Park after his wealth had grown, hoping to move his family out of the polluted larger cities and live a calm life out in the countryside. Her mother had been wary at first, she was quite fond of her parties and such in the cities, but acclimated to the more rural life quickly once she befriended the mayor's wife; as long as her mother had parties, she was happy.

Sam…had not adjusted so easily. She had never really thought of how different she was from other girls when living in larger cities, there had been many different kinds of people, her own idiosyncrasies seemed miniscule in comparison…but here, it seemed that everyone couldn't see anything but them. She wanted to become an artist and abhorred the social standards that many took as the norm…and for that she was referred to as "strange" and "peculiar" by the townsfolk when she ventured into town to borrow a book or help her mother shop. She really didn't care what people thought about her, she never had to her mother's constant annoyance, but it bothered her that people couldn't seem to accept her as an individual…just another beauty who was too odd for her own good.

Sam traced an outline of a rose on the window pane as she waited for their short journey to end…a rose, that's what the flower in her dreams reminded her of. A dream that she had been having for the past few weeks, ever since her father had left for his annual trip to the invention fair in Mayville…and it was always the same. She always saw an evil looking castle looming before her, surrounded by tall and menacing looking pine trees, and felt like someone was calling her name. Whenever she turned to look for the owner of the voice, so sorrowful she couldn't tell if it was male or female, all she saw was a single, glowing flower colored a deep lilac. It was dying though…the petals left were drooped and dead looking while it was surrounded by the ones that had already fallen.

The dream was puzzling to say the least, and until just now, she hadn't recognized the wilting flower as a rose…it was annoying to her that she couldn't figure out what the dream was trying to tell her. She found her thoughts jolting out of that train of thought for the second time, however, as the coach came to a stop in front of an impressive looking house that emitted loud music and fake laughter. Sam groaned inwardly as a footman helped her from the carriage, but kept her face distant for her mother's sake…she would feel guilty to know that she was the cause of the poor women to pass out from hyperventilating.

The light was much too bright. And the music appalled her, but the petite maiden plastered on a polite grin as she and her mother were announced to the Mayor, maybe if she allowed her mother this moment, she could travel with her father on his next business excursion. Soon enough, her mother was wept away by other noble looking women, and Sam wormed her way through the crowds to stand alone near the French doors that opened to the gardens. All she had to was remain as inconspicuous as she possibly and then they would leave…simple and yet effective. Just breathe in, and breathe out, and don't make direct eye contact…blend into the wall and people will just leave—

"Samantha!" a deep baritone addressed her…obviously she just needed to hide behind a shrub or something. "What are you doing all alone? You should be talking and mingling with me…something that all the ladies in here would kill to be doing."

"To bad I'm not one of them, Dash," Sam responded in an acidy tone without directing her gaze towards the tall and 'intimidating' blonde, young man. "But, I'm sure Paulina would be overjoyed to replace me."

She didn't wait for the primeval-like man to respond, knowing that he would gape like a beached fish for a good minute before trying to insult her in turn, and walked away from the party and headed outside to gaze at the stars. She wished the stupid ogre would just leave her alone…sometimes she felt like the only reason he would attempt to 'woo' her was because she was the only girl in town who had no desire to marry him. Sam gave a mirthless chuckle as she thought of what her mother's reaction would be when her only daughter told her that she didn't think of herself as the marrying type…if nothing else, just to see the utter shock.

Sam closed her violet eyes for a moment as she perched herself on the edge of a fountain, and then arced her back so her face turned upwards towards the stars. She opened her eyes and stared at the glittering dots for a few minutes…the silence was comforting. One day…one day she'd get out of this tiny, backwards town and have her adventure…one day she would. Until then, she'd just wait for the sun to rise the next day and bring her father home.

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William Manson urged his legs to move as fast they could go…he could hear the wolves behind him getting closer with every passing moment.

It had been a seemingly normal return trip from the fair in Mayville, and he was looking forward to returning to his wife and daughter and regaling his rewards he earned for his newest invention. But, one wrong turn warped into something horrible, and now he feared that he would never see his family again. He thought it was a shortcut, the path that seemed to cut through an abandoned wood that seemed haunted…but William Manson didn't believe in such nonsense, even if his mount was skittish about the path. The horse had been spooked by something, some sound or shape that was emitted from the dark woods, and had bucked him off…and then the wolves found him.

He was running out of steam…he was going to die…he could hear them yapping at his heels…

A huge castle loomed in front of him, a huge castle with a black, iron gate. He didn't have any thought besides trying to save himself from the wolves, so he sprinted with the last of his strength towards and past the gate, slamming it shut just as the wolves would have converged upon him. He only remembered hearing a faint, echoing voice before darkness claimed over his vision…

…

But then, he heard voices and he blinked away the weariness from his eyes and tried to focus on what he was hearing.

"I don't care if he's angry, Tucker! I wasn't about to let the poor man freeze to death out in the night. It's bad enough he was hounded by those awful wolves the whole way here…the least we can do is try to help him until he regains his strength."

"Jazz! I understand that all those tings happened to him, but that doesn't change the fact that if he comes down, and sees this stranger in his favorite chair, that he'll go psycho on us and on him!"

"Then he won't find out…"

"Don't you dare encourage her Valerie!"

William shook away the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes and found that he was no longer lying in the cobble pathway leading up to the dark castle, but instead was wrapped in a blanket in a large chair in the middle of a sumptuous looking den. He focused his blue eyes on the direction he heard the voices coming from…but only found a book, a sword, and a tall lamp Three ordinary objects that were talking and had faces that resembled that of a human. He let out a frightened yelp that attracted the attention of each item…and then they moved towards him.

"I'm sorry to wake you like this," the book said with an apologetic face. "And I'm sorry you have to see me talking through a book…it's the only way you could've seen us. My name is Jazzmine…most just call me Jazz. The sword is Valerie, and she's the arms master of this palace, and the lamp is Tucker, the steward here. Feel free to rest here until you feel well enough to travel home."

"I don't really think that this is a good idea…" the lamp said with a frown forming on its lampshade.

"Would you just be quiet, Tuck?" the sword asked as it narrowed its two eyes at the lamp.

"I don't want to intrude…" William replied, smiling despite how silly and strange it was to be speaking with household objects.

"It's no intrusion at all," the book named Jazz replied with a smile forming on its cover. "Feel free to stay here as long as you like…just let me warn you about me brother quickly and then---"

Before the book named Jazz could finish, a ghostly wail echoed through the castle, causing each enchanted object to wince and William to cover his ears and crouch to the floor in fear of whatever made that noise. He could vaguely hear the book shouting at him to not stare, but he didn't understand what she meant until he look up and saw a grim looking being…a Phantom floating in the doorway, glaring at him with anger and bitterness. He was exactly frightening, as he looked no older than his own child, but it was those eyes…and the fact that he looked to be dead, but there he was in plain sight. William found that try as he might, he couldn't tear his terrified expression away from the ghost.

"Is that all you can do?" the figure asked in an angry hiss the green eyes alighting with a fire that burned with hurt and ire that seemed much older than the youthful face. "Is that all any of you can do…just stare at me? Stare at me like I'm kind of monster?"

"N-no!" William stuttered, backing away in fear as the phantom walked towards him. "I-I didn't mean to…I was j-just lost and…I needed someplace t-to stay…"

"Well, the dungeon is a wonderful place to stay," the Phantom said in a quite whisper, waving his hands and not paying any mind to the yelps of alarm that William let out as invisible hands began to drag him away. He turned around and glared at three glowing figures that stood above three motionless objects that had once been infused with life. The bespectacled boy was pointing at the red-headed woman, who had her hands on her hips as she glared at the snowy-haired phantom, and the curly-haired woman just stared at him impassively. "That's all they ever see…a monster. Just stop it Jazz…"

The harshness slipped off the face, leaving the Phantom looking young and vulnerable as he floated away from the three ghosts and phased through a wall. The three specters shared a sad look before disappearing themselves…a silent shred of hope beginning to tear that they would ever be freed from their curse…

Or that their prince and brother would ever find someone to break him free of an awful fate…

TBC…

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Please do me the favor and review! They are greatly appreciated! More to come soon!

Osco