You can purchase “The Rat Prince in the 2006 Yaoicon Anthology, available at the Yaoicon site!!

The first thing he felt was the biting cold, so numbing it felt as detached as though he was still dreaming. A sharp gust of wind blew through the alleyway, batting the wet sheets of last week’s newspaper against the side of a grimy dumpster.

It wasn’t raining anymore, but rivulets still ran into the drain n the far corner. Droplets fell from the guttering high above him, drumming a soft rhythm against the cardboard box that had provided scant shelter from the last downpour.

Truly this was the most degrading circumstance he had ever endured. Never mind that this was an insane, impractical exercise, why choose to send him here, to this grim world of humans and their garbage? As more of the detritus tumbled by, he poked his head further out of the box, sniffed the acrid air, shook the water disdainfully from his paw.

Oh, no. His family could never make his ascension easy.

Darian had been raised in the knowledge that there would be the customary trials and travails to overcome, an opportunity to prove his worth, but the details had remained a mystery. He’d assumed the tests were ceremonial at best, a token gesture, harking back to long dead tradition. Unfortunately, at his lavish birthday celebrations last week, the young Prince had finally been informed what would be expected of him, and it was far from token nostalgia.

He had never anticipated it would be simple; the trials were to demonstrate to the people that he was worthy and capable of leading his people, of heading the clan. For their benefit alone, Darian would be given an opportunity to shine.

He never expected it to be impossible.

Seeing his reflection in the muddy puddles was unbearable, when he was acutely aware of how the image should appear, what once was that was no longer.

The form would remain in place until his accomplished his task, at which point the spell would reverse and he and his mate were expected to return. He’d enquired about the option to give up and go home, but his father must have assumed he was joking.

“No-one has ever failed.” The king laughed. “There is no contingency procedure. Let’s hope we will not need one this time.”

His pride took command at that point, and before he could retract his words, the court shaman had been summoned, and with a dramatic – overly so in Darian’s opinion – chant of magick, he was sent through to this world, in this form.

He really should have asked more questions…