《A Heavy Crown (mxm)》


 One

    The rain was coming down hard, but he didn¡¯t care. It was nice to finally feel something again, to have even an ounce of life breathed back into him somehow. He could see his breath on the air as he shivered, wrapped in his cloak while he walked aimlessly down the cobblestone streets. Being out in this weather was a surefire way to get ill, but anything was better than being holed up in the castle any longer with Father screaming at him. And besides, getting ill wasn¡¯t going to matter anyway.


    ¡°You¡¯re pathetic! Get a hold of yourself. Do you think your mother would be proud to see her son wasting away in bed like a fragile maiden? Get. Up.¡±


    But Mother had been proud. Far more proud than Aleksander. And the King¡¯s words had only fanned the angry, grief-stricken flames flickering inside him. So get up he did, and stormed out of the castle without another word.


    He had no idea where he was going. The only times he¡¯d been outside the inner circle were with Lydia, accompanied by Ser Donal of course for protection. But he had been very young then, and any memories floating around in his head were foggy and vague. There was a bookstore, although he would not be able to tell anyone the name. It was her favorite place to visit and acquire more stacks of tomes for her impressively large library.


    There was nary a soul to be seen outside at the moment. As he walked, his body quaked in the cold, but he welcomed it. At first it had stung, but now numbness seeped into his limbs. He only hoped it would numb his mind and his heart too.


    Something told him to look up, and as he did, he spotted a quaint little wooden building with a sign hanging that read Tarin¡¯s Tales. His feet shuffled him inside as much warmer, drier air greeted him, along with the smell of aging paper. An old woman sat by the counter reading a book, not even glancing up to acknowledge him. Hesitantly, he made his way over to a shelf labeled Fantasies and Epics and began to peruse. Finding a title that seemed interesting enough, he plucked it from the shelf and took it to the old woman.


    ¡°Uhm, how much?¡± he asked quietly.


    Finally, she looked up, her cloudy eyes scanning him for a moment. ¡°5 copper.¡±


    He placed a silver piece of coin on the counter, as he did not own any copper, and nodded towards her in thanks before exiting the store, clocking her surprised expression.


    A much larger establishment neighbored the little bookstore, with a well-painted sign that read The Dragon¡¯s Nest. It was certainly clever marketing, he gave them that. The tavern seemed quiet enough inside, as it was only approaching mid-afternoon and most common folk worked until sundown. His stomach growled, and with a sigh, he opened the door.


    He was not too surprised to see there were currently no customers, which he was thankful for. The place was lit comfortably with various candles and a nice fire burning to keep the large room warm. No one seemed to be working the bar at the moment, so he snuck into a rounded booth in the corner and cracked open the book. He needed a distraction, any kind of distraction. And some peace.


    He was unsure how much time had passed: a few minutes, a few hours? Much to his relief, the book he had purchased was indeed an entertaining one. He had become lost in it until his stomach grumbled audibly once again, this time more insistent. He gently bent the corner of the page he was on and began to close the book.


    The front door burst open forcefully with the cold wind as a large figure suddenly came storming into the establishment.


    ¡°Goddamnit, Jonathan, how many times do I have to tell you to relock the door until it¡¯s time to open?!¡±


    A rather large young man, not too different from his age, slammed the door closed and proceeded to fumble with a set of keys, his hands slick from the rain. Water dripped from the ends of his wavy dark-brown-almost-black hair, the underneath distinctly more curly as it had not gotten as soaked. He cursed more under his breath as he turned the lock.


    ¡°What it¡¯s not like anyone¡¯s gonna come in here and rob the place!¡± a muffled voice shouted from an unseen location behind the bar, presumably the kitchen.


    He sank back as far as he could into the booth, blue eyes wide as he quickly realized his mistake.


    The dark-haired man shoved the keys in his pocket and turned to walk towards the direction of this Jonathan''s voice. ¡°You and I both know it would be my arse if something were to happen. For the love of Christ, just please remember to lock the fucking door so I don¡¯t get fired.¡±


    A much slighter man appeared from around the wall behind the bar, wielding a cutting knife. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll remember to do it for you. You¡¯re the only person who helps get us business around here anyway,¡± he teased with a flourish of the blade, motioning to the other man.


    That elicited an eye roll. ¡°Just get back in the kitchen and don¡¯t talk to me again.¡±


    Jonathan obeyed and disappeared. With a heavy sigh and a shake of the head, the man began to aggressively wipe down the bar, clearly irritated and in a foul mood. Obscured by the shadows, he somehow managed to remain hidden, as the man evidently was distracted by his own troubles. Frozen, he was unsure what to do, so he just sat for a moment and observed.


    The first thing he noticed about the young man was that he clearly was not first and foremost a barkeep. He was large and muscular, especially in the arms, and rather tan. A lumberer maybe? Or a smith? As his hair began to dry, it grew frizzy and tight with curls. He had a strong jaw and a sharp face. By all accounts he was indeed quite handsome. He understood now what Jonathan had meant by his comment.


    As he was deliberating on what to do, his stomach growled again. Quite loudly.


    The man quickly glanced up and spotted him in the corner. He froze a moment before beginning to reach for something under the bar.


    He stood quickly and put his hands up. ¡°I-I¡¯m so sorry, I hadn¡¯t realized you weren¡¯t technically open yet.¡±


    The barkeep stopped and slowly sat up, hands empty. ¡°No, it¡¯s all right. The door was open, after all,¡± he pointed out with a raised voice, tossing his head back towards the kitchen with an accusatory tone.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    His heart was racing, and there was a dry lump forming in his throat.


    ¡°I uhm¡­ I was wondering if you all had any food? I haven¡¯t eaten all day. My own fault.¡±


    The young man quickly seemed to relax as he assumed a far more hospitable air about him. It was then that he noticed his eyes: a striking green, like emeralds.


    ¡°Yes, actually. Our cook should have some batches of stew made shortly if you don¡¯t mind waiting a minute. I could get you a drink and some bread in the meantime if you¡¯d like,¡± he offered politely.


    ¡°That would be wonderful, thank you,¡± he answered shyly, hesitantly approaching the bar as he took a seat upon a wooden stool.


    The man could sense his nervousness and gave him a small smile as he turned to grab a mug, filling it with ale. ¡°I¡¯m Percy, by the way. If you ever find your way here again, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be working.¡±


    The twitch of a smile played at the corner of his own lips as he accepted the mug and took a sip. A short silence fell over the two, and he looked back up to see Percy staring expectantly.


    ¡°Oh, uh, the ale is very good,¡± he commented.


    Percy suddenly laughed, stirring a tightness in his stomach. ¡°Well I¡¯m glad to hear it. But I was actually more looking to hear what your name is?¡±


    His pale face grew red. ¡°Oh, sorry¡­ I-I¡¯m Aryn.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very unique name. Isn¡¯t that one of the princes¡¯ names?¡± he asked casually as began wiping out cups.


    ¡°Uhm, yes. Yes, it is,¡± he confirmed quickly, paying extra attention to his own mug.


    ¡°And your parents thought to name you after him?¡± he questioned skeptically, confused.


    There was another brief pause as Aryn¡¯s eyes darted about the counter.


    ¡°No, I uh¡­ I am him, actually,¡± he said quietly, almost too quiet to hear over the rain.


    Not too quiet for Percy to hear, though, as the young man suddenly seemed indisposed.


    ¡°Oh. Oh. Wow, I uh¡­¡± He quickly put down the mug he was cleaning and proceeded to bow awkwardly. ¡°It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.¡±


    Aryn¡¯s face burned. ¡°Please, don¡¯t call me that. It¡¯s just Aryn,¡± he begged.


    A big smile formed on Percy¡¯s face as he proceeded to sit back up. There was something in that smile that stirred his heart. It was warm and playful and inviting.


    ¡°Oh, well thank God. I¡¯m not very good at all of that courtly bullshit, as you can very well see,¡± he pointed out playfully.


    ¡°Obviously. Your mouth is foul,¡± Aryn teased back, taking a sip of ale as he glanced at Percy over his mug.


    That got a laugh out of the young man. ¡°Sorry. Get it honest from my old man.¡±


    The prince chuckled softly. ¡°It¡¯s all right. I find it quite amusing actually.¡±


    Suddenly Jonathan appeared from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl. ¡°Here you are.¡±


    ¡°Thank you very much,¡± Aryn said before carefully spooning some of the liquid into his mouth.


    Percy watched and waited impatiently. ¡°Well? Did Jonathan make it like he always does or is it edible?¡±


    He snorted and covered his mouth, not expecting the joke.


    ¡°It¡¯s great actually,¡± he commented after he recovered.


    ¡°Good. You hear that, Jon? You didn¡¯t fuck it up this time!¡± he shouted back into the kitchen.


    ¡°Fuck you, Percy.¡±


    The man chuckled and shook his head with a grin. ¡°We get along great, if you couldn¡¯t tell.¡±


    Aryn smiled back sheepishly and continued to eat. ¡°What are friends for if not to insult each other?¡±


    Percy cocked his head and braced himself against the bar with his hands. ¡°See I knew I liked you for some reason. A man of sound logic and wisdom.¡±


    ¡°Well this is perfect. I¡¯ll teach you all my logic and wisdom, and in return you¡¯ll teach me every swear word known to man.¡±


    He laughed again. ¡°Deal.¡±


    Aryn finished his food and drink as he watched Percy work, prepping the bar for customers. It was about that time that he decidedly needed to get heading back. The sun would be setting soon, and he did not wish to traverse the city alone in the dark. God forbid he¡¯d leave this world not of his own terms today.


    ¡°Unfortunately I should be heading back,¡± he announced, standing from the stool.


    Percy glanced back over and almost looked sad. ¡°Going so soon? The night hasn¡¯t even started.¡±


    ¡°I know but I really shouldn¡¯t be out this late on my own. Thank you again for your hospitality¨C¡±


    ¡°Wait, you should come back tomorrow night. It¡¯s payday for most folks tomorrow and the taverns get crazy. It¡¯s a fun time, you should come join everyone,¡± he proposed hopefully. ¡°I¡¯ll be here,¡± he added with a smirk.


    He couldn¡¯t help but smirk back. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t do good in crowds.¡±


    ¡°Well how about this. I¡¯ll be sure to save a room for you, and if it gets to be too much, you can just head up there for the night,¡± he offered.


    This caught Aryn off guard. He hadn¡¯t questioned his discomfort at all, like most everyone else. Just simply offered a solution.


    ¡°Oh. Well, I suppose that would work, yes,¡± he agreed quietly.


    ¡°And then you wouldn¡¯t have to worry about getting back home either. You could just stay here and go back in the morning. What do you say?¡± There was an eagerness in Percy¡¯s voice as he stared expectantly at him with those green eyes.


    He hesitated a moment, thinking, conflicted. He supposed one more day wouldn¡¯t hurt¡­ ¡°Alright, fine. I guess I¡¯ll see you tomorrow night then, Percy.¡±


    ¡°See you tomorrow night, Your Highness,¡± he teased, giving him a wink.


    Aryn chuckled and shook his head before exiting the tavern, a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach, mixed with, dare he say, a tiny ember of hope again.

 Two

    Sleep had not come to him easily, even after working into the late hours of the night. Physically he was exhausted, but his mind would not shut itself down. He just kept seeing his face. The ashen blonde hair, his soft blue eyes and those full, blush-colored lips. He liked how he¡¯d said his name¡­


    He sat up in bed with a groan, rubbing at his face. The dim grey light of dawn barely illuminated his room as he clambered out of bed, eyes half-closed still as he struggled to get dressed. He grabbed some dried meat and a piece of bread on his way out the door and headed to the forge where his father was already waiting.


    The day dragged by as he slaved over the forge impatiently, just waiting for the sun to set. Maybe he should bathe at the tavern before his shift. He didn¡¯t want to smell and be covered in soot. The boy was a fucking prince after all.


    Finally the time came to close up the forge and head out. He bid a hasty goodbye to his father before taking off towards the Dragon¡¯s Nest. The door was locked, much to his surprise, and upon entry he yelled back to Jonathan.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to wash up real quick. Don¡¯t burn the place down.¡±


    He filled a basin with cold water and scrubbed his face, arms, and neck before changing into the pair of clothes he had brought with him. He had always switched clothes when coming to work at the tavern so as not to be dirty, but now there was an extra reason for wanting to look presentable.


    Returning downstairs, he began to prepare the bar as sunset was turning to dusk. The sky turned from soft oranges and pinks to purples and blues, and the first of many patrons started piling in. The night quickly grew busy as he was rushed with orders, making pleasant conversation while filling drinks. This task was second nature to him by now, and he absentmindedly fulfilled his duties while keeping a keen eye on the door.


    The hour ticked by and still no prince. His spirits began to fall. Of course he wasn¡¯t going to come back. He had no business messing around with common folk like him. Why would he?


    ¡°Percy!¡±


    He looked up to spot him making his way through the crowded room. He had a thick cloak on, dark blue lined on the inside with fur to fight off the biting cold. It complimented his hair and skin tone and made his eyes stand out. Those eyes locked with his own, brimming with excitement and uncertain discomfort. A slow smile lit up his tan face as Aryn slithered his way through the mass of people, finally reaching the bar.


    ¡°Wow, you weren¡¯t kidding,¡± he admitted with a nervous chuckle. ¡°It really is crazy in here.¡±


    Percy laughed. ¡°It gets rowdy but it¡¯s certainly a great time. Want a drink?¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± he concluded with a sense of desperation.


    He poured the prince an ale and carefully slid the mug towards him. ¡°So, why¡¯d you come back? If you don¡¯t mind my asking.¡±


    His blue eyes flicked up towards him, surprised. ¡°Because you invited me. Besides, I realized after our little encounter yesterday that my life is not very exciting, and I would like to add a little excitement to it.¡±


    I could certainly make it exciting.


    He smiled again. ¡°What? You mean lounging around in your castle all day while someone feeds you grapes doesn¡¯t get your adrenaline going?¡± he teased.


    Instead of laughing or jesting back, the prince¡¯s face seemed to fall. He looked uncomfortable as he stared into his mug, quiet.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he began softly. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, I was just playing with you. I didn¡¯t mean to offend.¡±


    ¡°N-no, you didn¡¯t. It¡¯s just¡­ that¡¯s certainly not what my life is like,¡± he explained vaguely.


    Way to go, dumbarse.


    ¡°What is your life like then?¡± he asked curiously, attempting to get the prince talking again. ¡°Obviously I¡¯ve fallen prey to stereotypes and assumptions.¡±


    His blue eyes grew distant, and sad.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not talk about myself, to be honest. My life is rather boring. I¡¯m more interested in yours,¡± he admitted, taking a big sip of ale.


    He was taken aback.


    My life? Mine is certainly more boring than his.


    ¡°Well, I primarily work at my father¡¯s forge as his apprentice¨C¡±


    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s why you look so strong,¡± Aryn interjected.


    He felt the back of his neck grow hot. ¡°Yes, I uh¡­ I help him there during the day and come to work here in the evenings. This job is decidedly more fun, I¡¯ll tell you that.¡±


    The prince raised an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t enjoy smithing then?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not my passion, like my father. I¡¯m good at it, don¡¯t get me wrong¨C¡±


    ¡°Percy! Another round over here for us, boy!¡± came a gruff voice at the end of the bar.


    He glanced apologetically at Aryn before quickly assembling the drinks asked for, rushing them to the man who ordered them. Upon his return, the prince had also finished his ale.


    ¡°Would you like another as well?¡± he asked dutifully.


    Aryn shrugged. ¡°Sure, why not. Thank you.¡±


    He filled his mug and passed it back. The prince reached out to take it, their fingers brushing over one another¡¯s for a brief moment. It sent lightning up his arm.


    As he drew his arm back, he cleared his throat to speak. But Aryn got there first.


    ¡°So how old are you? You seem about my age but the way you''re built is a bit deceiving,¡± he questioned casually, just making conversation.


    Percy chuckled. ¡°Just turned nineteen this past autumn.¡±


    He watched the blue eyes glance at his left hand.


    ¡°Not married yet?¡±


    His skin flushed as he rubbed at his neck. ¡°Ah, no¡­ No I uh¡­ I want to secure a stable place in society before I take on such a responsibility.¡±


    You¡¯re such a bad liar.


    He had expected judgment, but the only look he received from the prince seemed sympathetic, relieved even.


    ¡°That is very responsible of you. I¡¯m surprised your family hasn¡¯t forced you to find a wife yet,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°Oh believe me, my father is trying. He just doesn¡¯t understand that¨C¡± he caught himself. ¡°That I¡¯m trying to ensure my future first.¡±


    His green eyes scanned about the room, landing on a couple young ladies who seemed to be eyeing him eagerly. It seemed it was his turn to be uncomfortable.


    ¡°Well, I just entered manhood myself,¡± Aryn added almost woefully, raising his mug towards him playfully.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain you have your hands full with betrothal offers,¡± he assumed with a smirk.


    The prince scoffed with a sad smile. Something shifted on his face, in his eyes. Words unspoken.


    ¡°Thankfully not. No, they¡¯re all pining after my brother. The past couple years he¡¯s been searching for the perfect wife, understandably as she is to be Queen someday. He¡¯s rather picky. But with him being the elder of us, not many noble young ladies are eager to offer their hand to me yet.¡±


    ¡°You seem relieved about that situation,¡± he discerned, a little too much hope  in his voice.


    He just wants his freedom as a man for a little while. Nothing more. He¡¯s not like you.


    ¡°The sooner Philip finds a wife and has a son, the better. Maybe I¡¯ll never have to marry,¡± he fantasized, taking a swig of his ale.


    As he opened his mouth to speak, questions lingering on his tongue, he was interrupted by a sudden presence being made. A young woman with light brown hair and similar eyes shouldered in next to Aryn, bumping the prince slightly. He recognized her immediately: Penelope.


    She smiled at him as she leaned on the counter, her teeth surprisingly white. ¡°Percy, be a doll and get me a drink, would you?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Her tone was overly playful as she smirked at him, her arms seeming to press her breasts together in an attempt to produce a little more cleavage. He forced a polite smile back at her.


    ¡°Of course. Just one? I¡¯d think Lawrence would be with you,¡± he made a point to mention.


    Her expression changed subtly.


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t feel like coming out tonight. He really does find every chance he can to be a buzzkill,¡± she grumbled.


    He passed her a mug.


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s probably just exhausted from working like the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°I suppose. I don¡¯t know¡­ I keep telling Da he and I aren¡¯t right for each other. We¡¯re just too different. I need someone fun and adventurous like myself,¡± she stated wistfully as she walked her fingers along the bar towards him.


    His green eyes flicked over towards Aryn in a panic. The prince simply sat quietly watching them, although he was able to see the mischievous smirk hiding behind his mug of ale.


    Another cry for a round of drinks suddenly became his saving grace.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said to her dismissively before eagerly fulfilling his duties.


    He had known Penelope since they were children, and it had always been clear that she fancied him. When she had become of age, her father had visited their house to speak with him. It was because she wished to be betrothed to Percy. He respectfully declined her proposal, citing the same excuses he had explained to Aryn. That was when she had begun to regularly visit the tavern. Her incessant advances had grown worse after she had been ¡®strongly persuaded¡¯ to marry Lawrence.


    She was insufferable.


    He made a point to take as many orders as possible, filling them all before ever returning to where Aryn sat at the bar. When he finally came back, she had thankfully disappeared.


    ¡°Something tells me you two aren¡¯t on the same page,¡± Aryn pointed out with another smirk.


    He let out a pained sigh. ¡°No, not at all¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll find the right lass someday,¡± the prince mused before taking another swig.


    The night proceeded to go by rather fast, as it always did when it was so busy. In between serving drinks, he and Aryn shared conversation. He learned the prince liked horse riding and reading and music. He had a distaste for hunting and the art of the sword. His favorite color was blue. He actually rather liked dancing but hated the social aspect of it. He preferred spending time by himself lost in a good book by the fire over partying and drinking and making merry.


    It was close to closing when he came back to Aryn, having fulfilled any last call requests. The prince seemed rather tired from all the ale, his cheeks flushed. The atmosphere was settling down to a far less rowdy environment as people were beginning to make their way out and back home or hole up in the rooms upstairs for the night.


    ¡°You doing all right?¡± he prompted.


    Aryn looked up at him and slid his half full mug in his direction. ¡°I am done,¡± he declared with finality.


    Percy laughed and took the cup, dumping it out. ¡°Are you headed back home then?¡±


    ¡°I uh¡­ I should probably stay here. I don¡¯t think trying to get back at this hour would bode well for me,¡± he pointed out slowly.


    The prince was certainly tipsy, but not obviously so. Regardless, he was thinking clearly enough to make the best decision still. His starry blue eyes turned up to look at him with a loose smile.


    ¡°Do you have a room I could stay in?¡±


    Percy blinked, refocusing. ¡°Oh, yes. Of course. Let me show you.¡±


    He finished wiping down the counter before guiding Aryn up the stairs. The hallways were longer than one would think, as the tavern was deeper than it was wide. Their best rooms tended to go unoccupied, so he walked the prince to one of those. As he opened the door, a draft of cooler air greeted them welcomingly.


    The room was all the way in the back of the second floor, rather isolated from the rest. The stuffiness of the first floor did not reach this area. A rather large bed stood against the wall, along with a small dresser to store clothes and a little round table with two chairs. He stepped aside and motioned with his hand.


    ¡°Your room, Your Highness,¡± he said playfully in an overly formal tone.


    Aryn giggled.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± he responded in a similar manner before snickering.


    The prince walked over and plopped down on the bed, falling backwards with a heavy sigh. Percy smiled as he approached, seizing the opportunity to get a good look at him.


    His frame was slight, some might deign to call it feminine. His facial features were fair and defined, with slim cheeks and protruding cheekbones. For a man, he was beautiful.


    ¡°Do you uh¡­ need anything else?¡± he asked, clearing his throat.


    This prompted him to sit up.


    ¡°Well, I actually thought maybe we could spend some time together. You asked me a lot of questions, but I didn¡¯t get to really ask you anything, now did I?¡± he pointed out with a shy smirk.


    Percy sighed. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. May I?¡± he asked, motioning to the bed.


    Aryn patted the mattress in response. He approached and took a seat, happy to take a load off finally. His feet ached from standing so long on the hard wooden floor, and his lower back was subsequently stiff. Those blue eyes glanced over at him, making his chest flutter.


    ¡°So, you mentioned you didn¡¯t really like smithing. What do you like?¡± he questioned curiously.


    Percy chuckled shyly. ¡°Well, I actually uh¡­ I like art, believe it or not¨C¡±


    ¡°Shut up, are you serious?¡± he interrupted excitedly. ¡°So you like to paint and such?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, mostly I just do charcoal sketches. It¡¯s nothing wondrous,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°You have to show me your drawings,¡± Aryn demanded excitedly, placing a hand on his knee.


    His leg tensed as his stomach tightened.


    ¡°I-I suppose I could, yeah. I don¡¯t have my sketchbook with me at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s all right. Just promise you¡¯ll remember for next time when I come round,¡± Aryn concluded.


    His boyish excitement was horribly endearing, and Percy couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°I will. Promise.¡±


    The prince beamed before suddenly resting his forehead on Percy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I should not have drank so much.¡±


    ¡°Rookie mistake, huh?¡± Percy teased, looking down at the mop of Aryn¡¯s silky, ashen hair.


    ¡°Absolutely. Never doing that again¡­¡±


    Time seemed to freeze as he hesitated. He could feel the heat radiating between them, like a magnet trying to pull them together. He reached his hand around and placed it on his back, gently rubbing up and down.


    Aryn responded by nuzzling closer to him, burying his face in Percy¡¯s shoulder.


    They sat like that for a moment, the quiet becoming comfortable until Aryn spoke up.


    ¡°Have you ever felt exhausted? Not physically but¡­ have you ever felt like you couldn¡¯t stand to be around people for a moment longer? Like your nerves are so frayed they feel on fire?¡± he murmured softly.


    It took him a moment to process and understand what the prince was trying to say.


    ¡°I suppose I have yes, just maybe not to such an extreme. I¡¯m glad to be away from here when my shift is done, when everything finally gets quiet again.¡±


    He tilted his chin down to look at Aryn as he spoke again, his voice quiet and fragile.


    ¡°After my mum died¡­ I just wanted to be completely alone. I couldn¡¯t stand being near others, it was like their mere presence was a dagger piercing my mind. I just wanted everything to be quiet. And it¡¯s just been getting worse...¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure how to respond. He could feel the prince¡¯s pain, and he wanted to empathize. But in reality he had never experienced loss as great as his. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Aryn again.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m telling you this,¡± he murmured as he began to pull away, clearly embarrassed. ¡°You probably think I¡¯m mental¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he interjected immediately. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think that at all.¡±


    They locked eyes again, the prince¡¯s blue irises starry with the threat of tears.


    ¡°I mean, you lost your mum. I think that would make anyone feel terrible. It¡¯s an extremely difficult situation to deal with, and from my understanding everyone mourns differently. Figures things out differently. That doesn¡¯t make you mental.¡±


    He placed a strong, calloused hand on top of his without thinking, wanting to comfort him somehow. Aryn quickly glanced down at their hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I finally crawled out of the hole I was in, though,¡± he started. ¡°Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t have met you. You seem like a really nice person, Percy. You make me feel comfortable, which is hard to do¡­ And you listen. It¡¯s nice to be listened to for a change.¡±


    The two of them paused, falling silent. He gave Aryn¡¯s hand a gentle squeeze, taking in as many details as he could about the way it felt.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, this conversation was supposed to be about you,¡± the prince said after a moment, shaking his head.


    Percy chuckled. ¡°No, it¡¯s okay. Really. I¡¯m glad you told me those things. It seemed like you needed to get it off your chest.¡±


    Aryn sighed heavily. ¡°I suppose I did. And now I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open from all that ale,¡± he pointed out with a breathy laugh.


    ¡°You should get some rest,¡± Percy concluded, smiling softly.


    He let go of Aryn¡¯s hand and stood from the bed, rubbing at his neck as he strode towards the door.


    ¡°Percy¨C¡±


    He turned.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    His blue eyes darted towards the floor, avoiding him. ¡°Would you mind staying here with me? I don¡¯t know this place very well and it makes me nervous to be alone.¡±


    He felt his heart jump nervously as he swallowed.


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, of course,¡± he agreed with a smile, walking back over to Aryn.


    He sat and removed his boots before glancing over at the prince unsurely. ¡°Do you¡­ mind sharing the bed?¡±


    ¡°N-No, not at all. That¡¯s fine,¡± he responded shyly before taking off his boots as well.


    Percy walked over to put the candles in the room out once Aryn seemed to have gotten settled in bed. His cheeks were still flushed, but the color was now a mixture of tipsiness and emotionality. He carefully made his way through the darkened room to the bed and climbed under the covers, facing away from him. His heart wouldn¡¯t settle down.


    You need to calm down and stop being so stupid. Just go to sleep. Leave him alone before you do something to freak him out.


    He lay there in the dark, just as restless as he was last night. He could hear Aryn¡¯s soft, slow breathing. He wanted to turn and look at him, take in his face, but refused himself. Eventually he forced himself to sleep.

 Three

    He found himself awake, but he couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t breathe. A shadow, darker than any darkness he¡¯d seen, loomed over him, unmoving but oppressive. He tried to cry out, but no noise escaped his mouth. All he could feel were the tears streaming down the sides of his face. His chest felt as if it would implode, his lungs burned from emptiness.


    He could just barely see Percy out of the corner of his eye, fast asleep, unaware. The presence continued to hold him, paralyze him, suffocate him. Then a memory. This had happened before. Right after Mum died. The same exact thing, almost every night. He just couldn¡¯t remember it until now.


    His limbs weighed a thousand pounds. Every time he tried to move, he felt as if his body sunk deeper into the bed, into the void that was below him. The panic was welling up, pushing through his throat.


    ¡°Help,¡± he screamed. But the scream was only a whisper. ¡°Help...¡±


    Percy¡¯s hulking form appeared to stir beside him as the young man slowly sat up, roused from his sleep in groggy confusion. He couldn¡¯t see his face, but he soon felt a strong hand grasp his arm.


    ¡°Aryn? Aryn what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    His voice sounded miles away. The figure still loomed.


    ¡°Help,¡± he repeated through the tears, eyes staring up towards the ceiling.


    ¡°Aryn, it¡¯s okay. What¡¯s going on? I¡¯m here.¡±


    The words were muffled, like he was underwater. But they were heard. He could feel his hand on him, anchoring him, keeping him from sinking further into the void.


    ¡°Just breathe, you¡¯re not breathing.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± he whimpered. ¡°I can¡¯t move.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re okay. You¡¯re okay, just try. Try to move your hand.¡±


    It was then that another strong hand grasped his own. ¡°Squeeze my hand.¡±


    He willed it to move, but it refused. The shadow refused. Its grip remained on him, on his mind. Terror crept in.


    ¡°Percy help, please¡­¡± he cried weakly.


    Suddenly his face came into view, in front of the shadow¡¯s. Another hand was placed firmly on his cheek.


    ¡°Aryn, look at me. You¡¯re okay. I need you to breathe and try to squeeze my hand. Just squeeze my hand. I know you can.¡±


    He imagined his hand moving, the muscles contracting. He focused as much as he could on Percy¡¯s hand: how it felt, where it was, how it was holding his own, how the pressure felt, the texture of his palm. He focused on what it would feel like to squeeze it. How it had felt earlier, when they were talking.


    His hand twitched weakly. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The shadow¡¯s hand slowly removed itself from his throat, allowing him to breathe. Air entered his lungs at an unsteady, jagged rhythm. But it entered nonetheless. He focused on Percy¡¯s face. Tears began to flow freely once again as he managed to ball up his other hand into a fist, then moved his toes, then his legs.


    The shadow was gone.


    He slowly sat up, trying to catch his breath. His eyes caught sight of Percy¡¯s concerned expression. Their hands were still clasped tightly, one still holding his face.


    ¡°Aryn, are you okay?¡± he asked softly.


    He lifted his eyes to his, vision blurry from tears as he shook his head, his lip quivering before he burst into a quiet sob.


    There was no hesitation. Strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, a hand coming to cradle the back of his head. He buried his face in his broad chest, trembling and gasping for air as his own hands grasped at Percy¡¯s shirt. They began to gently rock back and forth.


    ¡°Shh, it¡¯s okay¡­ You¡¯re okay. I¡¯ve got you,¡± he whispered into his hair.


    He could feel Percy¡¯s hands on him, one holding his head while the other gripped his side tightly. His mind was overwhelmed, terrified, traumatized. He pulled himself closer to Percy, if it were possible. His head swam as he felt disoriented, but he anchored himself to the blacksmith boy, clinging to him desperately.


    Percy slowly began stroking his hair, murmuring phrases of comfort repeatedly until his breathing started to settle. He continued to rock him, a primal comfort that helped cease his sobs. As the moments passed, he could feel himself calming, the visage of that shadow beginning to fade out of his mind.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed before he decided to slowly remove himself from Percy, sheepishly glancing up at his face. His green eyes were warm and full of concern, and something else he couldn¡¯t quite decipher. The way he was looking at him made his skin flush. Heat rose to his face as Percy carefully brushed a lock of hair from his damp forehead.


    ¡°What happened?¡± he asked, almost in a whisper.


    He felt his breath tickle his nose.


    ¡°I¡­ ever since my mum died, I¡¯ve been having these nightmares,¡± he started hoarsely. ¡°But they¡¯re waking nightmares. Like my mind is awake but my body isn¡¯t, or the other way around. I¡¯m not sure¡­ There¡¯s always this shadow, this void. It feels¡­ evil. And it¡¯s holding me down and I can¡¯t breathe or move¨C¡± his tone grew more panicked.


    Percy suddenly grasped his face, gently. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. Don¡¯t get yourself worked up again thinking about it.¡±


    He forced himself to take a deep, shaky breath. Then suddenly he was aware of everything. He felt Percy¡¯s hands on his face, the difference between his calloused palms and smooth fingertips. The way they were sitting, his knees cast to the side as he faced the larger man, legs touching. The heat radiating between them.


    A thumb brushed delicately over his flushed cheek.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    He sat silent for a moment, eyes closed.


    ¡°You are helping,¡± he whispered back.


    He couldn¡¯t see it, but he could just tell that a small smile was growing on Percy¡¯s lips. One of his hands left his cheek and made its way to his arm as he slowly caressed it, making his skin prickle. His breath was close to his face again. Strangely close.


    Aryn¡¯s eyes fluttered open to meet Percy¡¯s, their noses nearly touching. The smith¡¯s green irises darted about his face thoughtfully, presumably taking in his features. He felt that same flutter in his stomach as yesterday, only now it was more of an unbearable tumbling.


    ¡°Aryn¨C¡±


    ¡°We should get back to sleep,¡± he suggested breathlessly, yet not pulling away.


    Instead Percy was the one to move. He sat back slowly, almost reluctantly. Aryn caught the look of disappointment in his eyes.


    ¡°We should. Just¡­ wake me if you need me, yeah?¡±


    He nodded in response, turning to lie down once more, his heart thumping in his chest as uninvited images flashed in his mind.

 Four

    When he awoke in the morning, Percy was gone. It was bright outside, cold rays of winter sun streaming in through the windows, their harshness filtered slightly by thin curtains. He lied there staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing.


    What was all that last night?


    The more and more he thought about it, the bigger the knot in his stomach grew. He had known of himself for a while now that he was not like other men. In numerous ways. He had never found himself fancying women like others did. He was content being alone. He always grew disgusted when he heard other boys his age talking excitedly of breasts and bosoms and what they wanted to do with them. He found it primitive, demeaning, disrespectful, uninteresting. He knew he wasn¡¯t normal.


    But he had never felt something like that before. Especially towards another man.


    He kept thinking about how his hands felt, where they¡¯d been. At first their embrace had been out of necessity, comfort. But the need to be calmed had long passed by the time they had disentangled themselves from each other. And how close he had been to his face¡­


    There was no way that was the case. Percy seemed perfectly normal. He was charismatic, confident, sound of mind. Manly. Nothing like himself. It didn¡¯t add up in any plausible way.


    But the way he had looked at him defied all logical reasoning.


    Unless maybe he had imagined it all. Gotten it twisted in his mind. Misconstrued the situation. That was something he very easily and often did.


    With a heavy sigh, he sat up and began to dress himself, eventually making his way out of the tavern. His head ached slightly, as he was dehydrated from all the ale. Judging from the sun, it was late morning heading into midday. He trekked back to the inner circle of the city, dragging his feet in troubled thought until the large ornate gates suddenly loomed overhead. Upon immediate recognition, it was opened by the guards with a quick bow of their heads. He passed through uncomfortably and hurried towards the castle.


    The light grey stone seemed brighter than usual, as the reflected rays from the sun stung his blue eyes more than he would have liked. Groaning softly to himself, he passed over the bridge to the grand front doors, those also being briskly opened for him. He was greeted to a much warmer interior as the chill from outside no longer nipped at his skin. Ornate rugs and polished candelabras lined the long hallways, and he immediately turned to the right to head towards his quarters.


    ¡°Aryn!¡± a commanding voice shouted from behind him.


    He turned to spot a sweaty Philip dressed in immaculate leather armor, sword sheathed at his side; he must have been training. Even after swinging around a blade for who knows how long, he still looked put together, nary a dark brown hair out of place.


    It was annoying.


    ¡°Philip,¡± he greeted tersely. ¡°It¡¯s midday. I thought you¡¯d be meeting with¨C¡±


    ¡°Where in God¡¯s name were you last night?¡± he demanded as he closed the distance between them. ¡°Father and I were worried sick. Don¡¯t even get me started on the fit Ser Donal was throwing¨C¡±


    ¡°I doubt Father was that concerned,¡± he mumbled under his breath sourly, turning to leave.


    A hand snatched his wrist to turn him back around gently as he heard his older brother sigh impatiently. And yet he could tell there was a hint of sympathy within the breath.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I was just¡­ out,¡± he answered vaguely, hugging his elbows.


    Philip raised a neatly trimmed eyebrow. ¡°Out? You don¡¯t go out. Out where?¡±


    ¡°To a tavern.¡± Aryn answered shortly. ¡°I¡­ made a friend, and he invited me out last night. I am a man now, Philip. I can make my own decisions.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine to make your own decisions, but you could have at least made us aware of them,¡± he lectured, placing a hand on his hip. ¡°I mean honestly Aryn you¡¯ve been acting so different since¨C¡±


    ¡°Since what? Since Mum died? Well excuse me if I¡¯m not all sunshine and rainbows after someone who actually loved me was taken away,¡± he spat.


    Philip¡¯s face flushed red with anger as he stepped closer, grabbing his younger brother¡¯s slender arm. This time his hand was far less gentle. ¡°Keep your voice down¡­¡±


    He wrenched his arm free. ¡°Why? Are you afraid Father will hear? For God¡¯s sake, Philip, he¡¯s said it before himself. Stop trying to pretend like you two care about me.¡±


    ¡°Well maybe that isn¡¯t entirely his fault, now is it? You don¡¯t exactly make it easy for¨C¡±


    ¡°Sons.¡±


    The two of them quickly halted their bickering and turned to spot their father at the end of the hall, coming out of the throne room. Even though he was aging, his size was still staggering. Extremely tall and still muscular from days long past, his cold eyes and harsh features made his very presence intimidating. He stared at them expectantly, accusatory.


    ¡°Father,¡± Aryn was the first to murmur with a bow of his head, avoiding eye contact.


    ¡°Aryn, where were you?¡±


    ¡°Out.¡±


    ¡°That is not an answer.¡±


    He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. ¡°I was at the Dragon¡¯s Nest in the middle circle.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I made a friend there, and he invited me back last night. And I had quite a lovely time, actually.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ve decided to slum around with the common folk¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not slumming around. I did what you asked of me. I got up and did something.¡±


    ¡°And that something just so happens to be discrediting you of any dignity you might have had. Is it really worth tarnishing our reputation among the other noble houses just because you want to play the rebel and get drunk with shit shovellers?¡±


    His face grew hot, and his skin flushed with rage. His thoughts drifted towards Percy.


    ¡°You won¡¯t have to worry about our reputation, Father. Yours is already in a goddamn shithole,¡± he spat before turning on his heel and storming into his chambers.


    He slammed the wooden door closed with a resounding thud before fumbling with the lock. His feet carried him to his bed as he threw himself down on his back, forearms covering his eyes as he began to feel tears well up inside them.


    The older he became, the more and more he realized that he didn¡¯t belong in this world, the world of nobility that is. He somewhat blamed his mother for that. She had taught him her values: love, kindness, forgiveness, empathy, selflessness. None of these translated to the den of vipers that was the noble court. Among the upper class, it was every man for himself. Anything to get a step ahead of everyone else. Lying, backstabbing, cheating, deceiving, even killing. That¡¯s how their world worked. There was no kindness involved, no empathy for others, no understanding and cherishing of differences. He didn¡¯t want to be part of it.


    His mind wandered back towards the tan skin, the curly dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. His crooked, beaming smile. The way he looked at him and held onto him, like he was the only thing that existed in that moment.


    He needed to see him again.

 Five

    ¡°You need to quench that before it gets brittle,¡± a gruff voice ordered from a few paces behind.


    He quickly moved the red glowing metal off of the anvil and plunged it into the tub of water, the sharp sizzling noise of evaporation piercing their ears. Even in the midst of winter, he was drenched in sweat. The forge had an uncanny way of holding in the heat it produced. At least it was better than freezing to death.


    ¡°Percy. Pull it out.¡±


    He blinked distractedly and removed the blade, placing it back on the anvil. ¡°Sorry, Pa.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been like this all week. Something goin¡¯ on? You not feelin¡¯ well?¡± his father interrogated gently as he approached his side.


    The two were the spitting image of each other, only differenced in age. His father resembled more of a boulder than a man. Standing much taller than average and sporting the dense muscles of both former soldier and veteran blacksmith, he made practically any man either jealous or uncomfortable in his presence. His hair was the same as Percy¡¯s, dark brown, almost black and thick with curls, but now it sported grey streaks. His neatly trimmed beard was the color of salt and pepper, and his eyes were a dark stone grey. Percy had gotten his from his mother.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine I¡¯ve just¡­ been a bit tired lately is all,¡± he tossed out the excuse without much vindication.


    His father narrowed his eyes. ¡°You think maybe you should drop your work at the tavern? All that is a bit much to handle, even for a strong young lad like yourself. I wish I could go back to when I had as much energy.¡±


    A chord of panic struck in his chest. ¡°N-no, it¡¯s not that. I don¡¯t mean physically tired, I suppose. I mean¨C¡±


    ¡°What other tired can you be, boy?¡± his father laughed, confused.


    ¡°Have you ever felt exhausted? Not physically but¡­ have you ever felt like you couldn¡¯t stand to be around people for a moment longer? Like your nerves are so frayed they feel on fire?¡±


    ¡°I guess my brain has just been a bit fried lately. I might need a couple days to reset,¡± he murmured cautiously.


    ¡°Are you asking for time off? Percy, the war is ramping up. Who else is supposed to help me fill these huge orders?¡± he pointed out frustratedly.


    ¡°There are plenty of other apprentices in town, Pa. I¡¯m always here, I¡¯m always doing my job¡­ just a couple days. Please.¡±


    There was a pause from the older man as he crossed his arms with a heavy sigh. He looked Percy up and down with a scrutinizing eye, as if he knew something he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a lass, is there?¡± he asked out of the blue.


    That caught him completely off guard. He was about to say no, but the dots quickly connected in his head. This was his chance to buy himself some more time.


    ¡°Uh¡­ yes, there is actually. It¡¯s nothing serious yet but¡­ we¡¯ve been spending some time together. At the tavern while I work,¡± he half-lied.


    He watched his father¡¯s expression soften. ¡°Son, you coulda just told me that. Look, if you want a few days off to spend with your lady friend that¡¯s fine. I know I¡¯ve been harping on ya about finding someone anyway, and I¡¯d be a hypocrite not to allow you this. I¡¯ll give ya tomorrow and the next off.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Pa¨C¡±


    ¡°Just please don¡¯t go gettin¡¯ into trouble, yeah? I don¡¯t need to be a grandfather quite yet¨C¡±


    ¡°Father,¡± he exclaimed embarrassedly, eyes wide in disbelief at the suggestion. ¡°I¡¯ll behave. I promise,¡± he said with a nervous chuckle.


    A strong hand came down on his shoulder and gave him a little shake. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll let you finish up early today, so you can¡ª¡±


    ¡°E-excuse me?¡±


    They both turned to receive their potential customer, but what Percy laid eyes upon flushed his skin even more ruddy on top of the heat. There he was, just standing at the entrance to their forge. His ashen hair was dappled with snowflakes, his skin only a few shades darker than the thin blanket of white on the ground. His blue eyes seemed a tad more grey in the cold light outside as opposed to the warm firelight of the tavern. He deigned to say he looked somewhat ethereal, like some sort of angel.


    ¡°Hello there, my boy. What can we help you with?¡± his father spoke up casually, clueless.


    ¡°I actually came to see Percy. You¡¯re his father, I presume?¡± He caught Aryn¡¯s eyes scan over the two perceptively.


    ¡°Oh. That I am. And you are?¡± there was a tone of confused curiosity now in the older man¡¯s voice as he glanced over at his son.


    ¡°I¡¯m Aryn. Aryn Stewart.¡±


    Percy watched as realization dawned on his father¡¯s face before he offered a steep bow of his head. ¡°Y-Your Highness, to what do we owe this¡­ unexpected visit? I hope it¡¯s for good reasons.¡±


    The prince chuckled softly, causing Percy¡¯s chest to flutter. ¡°Yes, all good reasons. I actually met your son last week at the tavern he works at. I very much enjoyed his company and wanted to come visit him again. Is he busy at the moment or would I be able to steal him away for some food and conversation? I would like to discuss your business with him.¡±


    It was quite humorous seeing him present himself so formally, Percy thought. He remembered meeting this meek boy cowering and stuttering in a corner, a boy who had proved to be witty and feisty and playful. But now as he stood before them his origins were clear: he truly was a prince. Except most princes wouldn¡¯t come seeking the company of a blacksmith¡¯s apprentice.


    His father stumbled over his words for a moment. ¡°Why, of course! No, he was actually just finishing up for the day. If you wouldn¡¯t mind waiting, he can be cleaned up in a few minutes.¡±


    That was the first time the two made eye contact. As his grey-blue eyes met his, he felt his heart jump. This little prince had consumed his thoughts ever since that night, moments replaying over and over and over again with a haunting question lingering at the end of every one. When he had awoken that morning, just as the sun was beginning to crest over the horizon, he lay on his side drinking him in. He stayed there frozen for who knew how long, longer than he should have, his hand twitching every so often, yearning to touch him, feel him. And that was the last he had seen of him. Naively he had expected Aryn to come back to the tavern the next night. But the more and more he thought about what had happened, the more ridiculous that expectation seemed. There had been no doubt in his mind that he had scared the prince away.


    But here he stood, in his father¡¯s forge, asking for him.


    An imperceivable breath escaped his lips.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t mind waiting at all,¡± Aryn finally spoke up with a curt smile.


    He felt his father¡¯s elbow dig into his side. ¡°Go on then. Get yourself presentable.¡±


    Percy snapped out of his stupor and hurried off towards their house, which sat just on the other side of the smithy. He feverishly stripped himself of his soot-covered clothes and filled a basin with freezing cold water. Bracing himself, he quickly washed his hair, face, and neck before dabbing on a bit of scented oil that he reserved for extremely special occasions. He dressed himself in a nice pair of dark breeches and a burgundy dyed wool sweater before relacing his boots. Before he exited his room, a thought suddenly reentered his mind. He pulled open a drawer in his dresser and removed a small sketchbook, shoving it into his satchel. He snatched a coat from one of the hooks by the door and threw it on as he strode out of the house.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    By the time he got back, he noticed his father and Aryn engaged in conversation. He just caught wind of the end of it as he approached.


    ¡°--and I would be more than happy to supply our weapons directly to the King if that could be arranged.¡±


    ¡°Pa,¡± he butted in gently. ¡°May we be going?¡±


    A reddish hue spread across the man¡¯s face as he recognized his blatant ambitiousness. One couldn¡¯t blame him for it though. It wasn¡¯t every day the prince showed up unannounced on your doorstep wanting to befriend your son.


    ¡°Of course. You two have fun¨C¡± Percy immediately strode towards Aryn. ¡°--and Percy.¡±


    He turned as soon as he reached the prince¡¯s side. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Mind your manners please. And watch that mouth of yours,¡± he warned with a paternal tone.


    He had to hold back a laugh. ¡°Of course, Pa. I¡¯ll be back later.¡±


    ¡°It was lovely to meet you,¡± Aryn threw over his shoulder as Percy began taking off.


    The two strode down the street rather quickly until they came upon an alleyway, that of which Percy suddenly pulled Aryn into. The prince¡¯s face looked surprised, yet expectant.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he prompted breathlessly.


    Aryn¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I¡­ wanted to see you again. My father was quite upset with me after the other night, so I had to behave for a little while. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t see you sooner¨C¡±


    ¡°No. No, it¡¯s all right. I just¡­ thought you were angry with me or something,¡± he murmured sheepishly.


    The prince let out a sharp breath as a small smile grew on his lips. ¡°Why would I have been angry with you?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t answer that question truthfully.


    ¡°Nevermind. You said you wanted to go get some food?¡± he mentioned, changing the subject.


    Aryn¡¯s smile grew wider, which caused his stomach to flip. ¡°Yes. I thought we could get something to eat and then, well¡­ I have a surprise for you, actually.¡±


    A shy expression took over the prince¡¯s face as he broke off eye contact. Percy began to notice his little mannerisms whenever he grew nervous. He would look away, rub his arm, press his lips together¡­ He was so goddamn adorable.


    ¡°A surprise? That¡¯s awfully kind of you,¡± he pointed out with a grin. ¡°Well. Shall we?¡±


    He gestured back towards the road they had diverted from. Aryn nodded before he began to lead them towards¡­ the inner circle? As they approached the gates, two guards signaled for it to be lifted as they spotted the prince. They started to walk through before one of them put a hand on Percy¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Excuse me, who are you?¡± the question came through pretentiously.


    ¡°He¡¯s with me,¡± Aryn said over his shoulder, a hint of sternness in his normally soft voice.


    The guard narrowed his eyes at the large young man, having to look up at him just slightly, before reluctantly removing his hand. Percy twitched his eyebrows upwards with a scoff before retaking his place by Aryn¡¯s side.


    ¡°So um¡­ we¡¯re eating here?¡± he questioned uncertainly.


    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s this little place on the eastside that has the most amazing soups. Perfect for cold weather. I¡­ don¡¯t really know any places outside here,¡± he explained as they walked.


    He strode in tandem with Aryn, glancing over at him every once in a while. His cheeks had turned a rosy pink in the cold to match the color of his lips. Ashen blonde hair moved like feathers in the frigid breeze, the ends occasionally getting caught on each other in a temporary tangle. He wanted to run his hands through it.


    Soon enough they came upon a street that seemed to be quite busy. The scene surrounding them overwhelmed him slightly as he took in the obvious difference between these people and his own. Their cloaks were thick and all lined with fur, the men dressed in fine breeches and well-made leather boots, the women donned with dresses bearing gorgeous colors and patterns. Lots of jewelry. And there were no beggars on the street. It was like he had stepped into a different world.


    ¡°The place is just right up here,¡± Aryn¡¯s words cut through his focus.


    The prince guided him towards a well-lit little establishment with a smoking chimney. As they opened the door, delightful smells wafted towards them almost overpoweringly. The place was extremely cozy inside: a strong fire burning in the fireplace, candles at every table, numerous rugs strewn about on the floor, padded chairs¡­


    As they entered and found a table to sit at, he couldn¡¯t help but notice some of the looks he was getting. No one¡¯s eyes lingered for too long, but he clearly saw the expressions on their faces. They were judging him. He didn¡¯t belong here.


    Thankfully they offered respect where it was due and took great care in being good hosts for Aryn. The food was indeed spectacular as the prince had promised. He also had some mulled wine to go with it. It was probably the best he¡¯d ever eaten before.


    Throughout the meal, they made casual conversation. Discussing how their week had been, asking about family, work, etc. But underlying it all was this indescribable tension, an air of discomfort or nervousness. Maybe he had scared Aryn. Maybe he was just trying to be polite and return the favor for the room the other night.


    Upon finishing, Aryn rose from his chair with a small smile. ¡°Alright, now onto the surprise. You ready?¡±


    His chest fluttered. ¡°I suppose I am. Lead the way.¡±


    With a fresh air of excitement, the prince led them out of the restaurant and towards the west side of the inner circle. The trek was a little long, but it mostly seemed lengthy due to the cold. Eventually they turned onto a street lined with various shops. There were clothing stores, a general store, an apothecary, a jeweler, and a bookstore just to name a few. But they passed by all of those and came to an establishment whose windows were full of easels and paintings and other art supplies.


    He turned towards Aryn abruptly, lips parted slightly. The prince was already smirking uncontrollably.


    ¡°Aryn¡­ this is so thoughtful. They don¡¯t have anything like this outside here,¡± he pointed out breathlessly.


    ¡°Well, go on then,¡± the prince urged, motioning towards the door.


    With a sharp sigh and a disbelieving grin, he stepped into the shop. It smelled of paper and paint fumes and freshly polished wood. So much better than smoke and iron and embers. To the right there were all manner of art mediums: canvas, sketchbooks, easels, even chunks of wood and marble for carving and sculpting. To the left was every artistic tool he could think of: different types of paints, dozens of shapes of charcoal, even different colored inks, along with various paintbrushes, quills, and sculpting tools. He didn¡¯t even know where to start.


    He turned back towards Aryn. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can afford anything in here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that,¡± the prince said with a sly smile.


    Percy scoffed disbelievingly. ¡°You mean you¡¯re¡­ paying for it?¡±


    He nodded and hugged his elbows, another shy mannerism. A smile lit up Percy¡¯s face as he slowly turned towards the artistic mediums.


    He definitely could use a new sketchbook. There were different sizes and even different paper textures. He pulled out his old sketchbook from his satchel to figure out the texture of that paper and picked a similar one from the shelf. The new book had a nice thick leather cover, and the pages were larger. Maybe he could try out landscapes.


    Next he went over to the charcoals. There was a set of all different sizes packed neatly into a little portable case. It was perfect. With a smile, he gingerly picked the case up and put it on top of the new sketchbook before returning to Aryn.


    ¡°I think this is all I want,¡± he said conclusively.


    With a nod, Aryn walked with him over to the counter where the clerk stood behind.


    ¡°How much for this?¡±


    The shopkeep examined the items briefly. ¡°Five gold.¡±


    The prince quickly fished out five gold pieces from his own satchel and placed them on the counter, murmuring a polite thank you before heading out of the store with him.


    ¡°Five gold? Aryn, that''s way too much money,¡± he pointed out guiltily.


    ¡°Percy. It¡¯s all right. I have the money and, quite frankly, you deserve something nice.¡±


    He froze for a brief moment when Aryn placed a hand on his arm, warmth radiating from his touch. He attempted to protest but instead sighed softly and smiled.


    ¡°You¡¯re a great friend, you know that?¡± he said gently.


    Aryn¡¯s cheeks slowly flushed that rose pink as a shy smile now spread on his face. ¡°So we¡¯re friends now.¡±


    ¡°Of course we are.¡±


    They locked eyes for a moment, that same feeling of tension passing between them briefly before he cleared his throat.


    ¡°So,¡± Percy prompted. ¡°Where to now?¡±


    He saw Aryn check where the sun was in the sky, and his face dropped. ¡°Oh God¡­ I forgot my father is having a ball this evening for my brother. I¡¯m supposed to be there¨C¡±


    Percy could hear the guilt in his voice and grasped his shoulders. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s all right. I had a really great time. Get to your ball.¡±


    The prince¡¯s face softened as a quiet sigh escaped his lips. ¡°I¡¯ll see you later?¡±


    ¡°Counting on it,¡± he answered with a smile.

 Six

    This is miserable¡­


    The fanciful, jaunty music permeated throughout the grand hall as he watched the hypnotizing swirling of sparkly dresses on the dance floor. There were so many people that it was difficult to spot his brother in the middle of it all, expertly leading a gorgeous dark-haired lass with hazel eyes. He had never been graceful or surefooted, not like Philip. That¡¯s why he always lurked in the corner, watching. Besides, so many people in one room made his heart race enough.


    Instead, he studied people. He noticed the way hopeful young ladies looked at his older brother, that shine in their eyes and smile on their faces. It wasn¡¯t dissimilar to how Percy had looked at him before. He wondered if he looked at the blacksmith boy the same way.


    When he had pulled him into that alleyway, he hadn¡¯t known what to expect. But that brief moment where his hands had been on him, he yearned for more. He kept thinking of the night he¡¯d spent at the tavern. Looking back, he knew what he had wanted to happen in that moment, when they were inches from each other.


    But that was him. Not Percy.


    He took a heavy drink from his glass and sank into the wall, attempting to make himself even more scarce. Was it even possible to feel that way towards another man? It was certainly unheard of. Attraction was between men and women. Right?


    ¡°I assume you hate these just as much as I do.¡±


    He turned his head in the direction of a smooth but masculine voice. A young man about his age, maybe slightly older, had sidled up next to him on the wall, bearing what he imagined to be a very similar expression to his own. As the man glanced over at him, he caught sight of his amber irises. His hair was shaped similarly to his own yet a warm brown coloration. And he was certainly taller. He smirked with the side of his mouth.


    Aryn scoffed playfully into his cup. ¡°Probably more so but yes. And you are?¡±


    ¡°Oliver Farrington. Your Highness,¡± he added in the last bit teasingly.


    Aryn pressed his lips together anxiously. ¡°Well I sure hope you¡¯re not here to talk to me about politics, Oliver Farrinton,¡± he grumbled.


    That made the young man laugh. ¡°Oh, no no. No, I¡¯m actually here because of my sister. She¡¯s dancing with your brother right now actually.¡±


    ¡°Ah I see. She¡¯s quite beautiful,¡± he added politely. His tone was more matter-of-fact than anything else.


    ¡°Thank you. She received all of the courtly dispositions in the family, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so that means you¡¯re the mysterious older brother who¡¯d rather be honing his archery skills than playing house at royal balls?¡± he presumed with a smirk, turning to look at the young man. ¡°Am I close?¡±


    Oliver chuckled as a knowing grin grew on his sharp face. ¡°Very close actually. Except it¡¯s not archery. It¡¯s fighting.¡±


    Aryn glanced down at his hands which rested on his biceps, as he had set his cup down and crossed his arms. His knuckles were dusted with scabs and scars. A tingle ran up his spine.


    ¡°You fight? Isn¡¯t that a bit¡­ barbaric for someone of nobility?¡± he pointed out curiously, wanting to hear more.


    Another smirk. ¡°We all have our secret pleasures. Some more than others.¡±


    At that he glanced over at Aryn, a different look in his eyes as he studied him briefly. His heart kicked up as he swallowed dryly.


    ¡°So tell me,¡± he started again. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you out there looking for a wife?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Well, this is my brother¡¯s ball, not mine. Besides, I¡¯m in no rush to be married.¡±


    ¡°Curious. It seems to me everyone is, especially in our world. What, you''re not just so excited to have little gremlins running around at your feet whose arses you have to wipe every hour?¡± he asked sarcastically, that same playful smirk on his face.


    That made Aryn laugh. ¡°Not particularly, no.¡± He bit his lip. ¡°What about you? You haven¡¯t married yet?¡±


    ¡°No, I decided a while ago that marriage isn¡¯t for me. I like my freedom. And my sister is beautiful and smart enough to marry into just about any prestigious noble house. Maybe even your house, Stewart,¡± he pointed out with a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Well I wish your sister all the luck. For your sake especially,¡± he teased.


    The two of them fell silent for a few moments, watching the other guests twirl around each other, before Oliver stepped closer to him, their shoulders touching.


    ¡°You want to get out of here? I¡¯ve had enough boring gawking for one night,¡± he murmured into his ear.


    The tone of his voice had shifted drastically, and it made his heart begin to race, his palms growing sweaty. He let out a quiet, sharp sigh.


    ¡°Where to?¡± he asked breathlessly.


    ¡°Wherever we won¡¯t get caught,¡± he whispered under the music.


    His breath caught in his throat. He placed his glass down hesitantly and turned to exit the hall, Oliver following behind. All of the guards were stationed either in or directly outside the hall. Seeing as to how crowded it was, the two were easily able to slip past and head down the corridor towards Aryn¡¯s chambers. He fumbled with the handle as his hands shook subtly before finally pushing it open, closing and locking it behind him.


    ¡°Oliver, I don¡¯t know¨C¡±


    He was suddenly pushed up against the door, their faces hovering in front of each other¡¯s, before he pressed his lips to Aryn¡¯s. At first he was so in shock that he didn¡¯t move, but something about it clicked in his head. That missing piece of the puzzle he had been trying to solve.


    His unresponsiveness caused Oliver to pull away slightly, their eyes meeting.


    ¡°Do you not?..¡± he prompted, starting to remove his hands from him as a look of severe regret grew on his sharp features.


    But Aryn leaned forward and connected their lips again, closing his eyes. He felt Oliver¡¯s hands slink their way back around his waist and pull their hips together. He smelled of soap and sweet herbs and wine. Their lips began to move in tandem as a rhythm was established, and he hesitantly moved his hands up Oliver¡¯s chest and shoulders to his hair. His heart thumped loudly as it proved difficult to catch his breath. Soon he felt Oliver¡¯s hands slide their way under his shirt, caressing his back as he teased his tongue into Aryn¡¯s mouth.


    He could feel the blood rushing, the knot forming low in his stomach. Suddenly his shirt was getting pulled over his head before their lips crashed into each other¡¯s once more. He shivered as the chilled air now reached his skin. Strong hands gripped under his thighs as Oliver hoisted him up to rest on his hips, pressing him firmly against the door. His lips moved to his jaw, then behind his ear, then to his neck. A quiet noise escaped Aryn¡¯s mouth involuntarily as his face flushed red, to which Oliver glanced up at him with a smirk.


    Suddenly he was pulled away from the wall and thrown onto the bed. He sat up on his elbows to witness the young man deftly removing his shirt before climbing on top of him. As he went in for another kiss, the prince placed a hand on his chest.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he whispered breathlessly, looking up at the amber eyes.


    He waited and leaned back just slightly, propped up on his arms. ¡°What is it?¡±


    In response, he slowly ran his hands down the man¡¯s chest to his muscular abdomen, taking in his physique. He touched his hips, his back, his shoulders¡­ everywhere he could. The expression on Oliver¡¯s face had softened.


    ¡°Sorry I just¡­ wanted to look at you,¡± Aryn murmured quietly, biting his lip.


    A smile curled on the edge of his mouth. ¡°Well, like what you see?¡±


    ¡°Yes I do,¡± he admitted with an airy chuckle, his cheeks turning pink.


    Oliver slowly leaned forward and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, keeping their faces close, his hair tickling his nose. He traversed down his neck, to his chest, then his stomach as he tucked his fingers into Aryn¡¯s waistband.


    What occurred next was unlike anything he¡¯d experienced. Sure he had discovered self-pleasure when he came of age for it, just like all boys did. But this he had never heard of. And as he lied there, feeling Oliver¡¯s hands and his mouth on him, around him, realization hit him like a horse running at full speed. He hadn¡¯t known before what he wanted from Percy that night, but now he did. He wanted Percy to hold him and kiss him and touch him. He wanted Percy to make him feel like this.


    He wanted Percy.

 Seven

    The dining room smelled strongly of cooked meats and coffee. As he began to shuffle his way in, he laid eyes upon his brother and father already deep in their morning meals. Philip was as bright-eyed as a newborn doe, and his father¡¯s face was absent of a frown (which was a rare sight). Something had clearly happened last night while he was¡­otherwise occupied.


    He had managed to clean himself up somewhat despite the debilitating pounding in his head. His blue eyes were dull and squinted as he slowly took a seat next to his energetic brother. Without a word, he dutifully began gnawing on a piece of bacon, the savory greasiness a welcomed reprieve from his self-inflicted ailment.


    ¡°Brother, did you hear the good news?¡± Philip piped up eagerly, taking a quick sip of coffee.


    Aryn slowly glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. ¡°No I did not. What¡¯s all the excitement for?¡±


    ¡°I am to be engaged to the lady Dahlia,¡± he blurted out confidently, a huge goofy grin on his face. The confidence that exuded from the older prince was nauseating.


    ¡°Oh really? And which one was that?¡± he asked flatly, more focused on shoveling food into his gullet.


    ¡°The one I was dancing with last night. Dark hair, hazel eyes¡­¡±


    Aryn nearly choked. After a series of coughs, he finally returned his brother¡¯s gaze. ¡°Wow, that''s¡­ wonderful. She seemed like quite a lady.¡±


    ¡°Oh she is. She¡¯s everything I¡¯ve been looking for. Father spoke to hers last night while we were dancing, and he quickly agreed with the partnership. Everything¡¯s starting to fall into place now. Isn¡¯t it great?¡±


    Hearing the ignorant happiness in Philip¡¯s voice only made him more irritated, angry even. Had he just completely forgotten their mother died not too long ago?


    ¡°Oh yes, for you,¡± he grumbled quietly as he stared at his plate.


    ¡°Aryn.¡±


    His father¡¯s voice cut through the air like a freshly sharpened sword. With a deep, frustrated breath he finally looked up to meet eyes with the man, an expectant look on his softly featured face.


    ¡°You should be happy for your brother. Grateful. His dutiful pursuit of these affairs have afforded you the ability to play the peasant, God knows why you want to. If you¡¯re not satisfied with the current situation, I could see to it you find a wife very soon as well¨C¡±


    ¡°No.¡± His voice was loud, and far more desperate than he had wanted it to be. There was a slight raise of Aleksander¡¯s eyebrows, but even that was enough to warrant the fear that began to creep into Aryn¡¯s chest.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ happy for you, Philip,¡± he recited dutifully, clear reluctance in his tone. ¡°And I¡¯m sure Dahlia will make for a beautiful bride. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me I seem to have lost my appetite,¡± he mumbled as he rose from the chair, bowing robotically, and strode out of the dining hall.


    As he closed the door and turned, he nearly yelped as a familiar face stood waiting for him. He was in a bit more casual attire than last night, a dark red silken shirt with deep brown breeches and black boots. You could see a fading bruise peaking through the slight plunge of his shirt where he had left it purposefully unlaced. An amused and slightly apologetic expression quickly grew on his sharply defined face, that signature smirk forming on his lips. Lips that had pleasured him last night.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to startle you,¡± his smooth voice invaded his ears almost uncomfortably.


    ¡°I just wasn¡¯t expecting you to be here still,¡± Aryn explained slightly out of breath.


    The smirk softened on Oliver¡¯s face. ¡°Yes well¡­ I¡¯m sure you just heard the big news. The King invited my family to stay for a few days, get acquainted and all that. He and my father have much to discuss, and I¡¯m sure the lovebirds are giddy at the prospect of seeing more of each other. As for me, well, I intend to explore what this city really has to offer. I would ask you to show me around, but something tells me you never wanted to see my face again.¡±


    ¡°N-no, that¡¯s not it I just¡­ Well I¡¯ve never¡­¡± he sighed sharply, pressing his lips together in embarrassment. ¡°This is very¡­ unprecedented territory for me. In many ways. And¡­ I guess I just don¡¯t really know how to go about this.¡±


    A more endearing smile then spread across Oliver¡¯s lips as he let out an airy chuckle. ¡°I understand. And I¡¯m sorry if I was a bit too¡­ direct? I didn¡¯t realize that was all very new to you.¡±


    The pressure filling Aryn¡¯s chest slowly began to dissipate at his change of tone. ¡°Well, I was actually wanting to get out of the castle for the day anyway. So¡­ I suppose I could give you a little tour.¡±


    ¡°Great. I¡¯ll go get my coat.¡±


    ***


    ¡°This is probably my favorite place to eat in the inner circle. And over down that street is more of the arts district: pottery, painting, sculpting, you name it. There¡¯s a large market in the center, sort of like a town square, but it¡¯s not very active right now due to the season.¡±


    He watched closely as Oliver took in his city, seemingly bored and unimpressed. From what the young man had told him last night, this wasn¡¯t necessarily what he was trying to look for. After a moment, Aryn stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re more interested in the unsavory activities,¡± he stated accusingly.


    That got a smirk out of him. ¡°What, isn¡¯t watching paint dry just so exciting though?¡± he exclaimed sarcastically.


    Aryn playfully rolled his eyes and turned to keep walking, talking over his shoulder. ¡°Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I¡¯m not particularly familiar with where all of the underground fight clubs are in the city.¡±


    ¡°What about brothels?¡±


    The prince¡¯s eyes went wide as he whirled on the other noble. ¡°Keep your voice down. Someone might hear you, for God¡¯s sake. And no, I know less about those than the fight clubs. Good Lord you really are a heathen aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Oliver laughed. ¡°I just think maybe you haven¡¯t experienced what life really has to offer. I¡¯m assuming maybe with the way the King is, he doesn¡¯t necessarily let his sons do anything that could tarnish their perfect image. Am I wrong?¡±


    Aryn rolled his eyes once more, this time in seriousness. ¡°Well, that¡¯s how he is with Philip anyway. He doesn¡¯t care so much for me. Black sheep and all, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Why, because you¡¯re just different? God forbid a man isn¡¯t a wizard with a sword or built like a Greek god. Society¡¯s expectations are idiotic.¡±


    Suddenly, unexpectedly, the prince felt the sting of tears come to his eyes. He quickly turned from Oliver so that he didn¡¯t see.


    The two of them explored the inner circle for a while before both grew bored and decided to venture out. It was heading into mid afternoon when they stopped at a quaint inn and grabbed some of the best comfort food Aryn had ever had. Oliver seemed quite pleased with it as well. It was strange seeing this young man, who was clearly of noble descent, fit in so well with both societies. Or at least that¡¯s what he saw. Maybe his personal life was not too unlike the prince¡¯s. Aryn read books and practiced music as an outlet for his frustrations. Oliver liked to fight. To get into something like that, surely there was some sort of dissent happening in his life.


    Of course there is, you idiot. You saw exactly what it was last night.


    But on top of it he wore this confident facade. He was one of those people that no one knew a lot about but everyone wanted to. He was suave and collected and intelligent. Maybe that was the difference between them. Aryn couldn¡¯t be like that. He didn¡¯t have the social capacities to blend in, to adapt and thrive. It was hard for him to pretend. And he now realized that was something Oliver was incredibly good at.


    And meanwhile he didn¡¯t belong anywhere.


    The sun was beginning to set when they finished their supper, and the two wandered farther down the street until coming upon a bustling tavern. A cold sweat broke out on his skin before he realized it was not the same tavern he was thinking of. He saw Oliver¡¯s face light up with that signature smirk as he tugged at Aryn¡¯s arm briefly.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go have fun.¡±


    The tavern door swung open to a much warmer, louder interior. A fire was roaring, supplying constant background noise behind the little band that was playing a jaunty tune. A few patrons turned to look at them briefly before returning to their cups. Before the prince¡¯s anxiety had time to take root in his chest, Oliver grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the bar through the crowd of people. The young man had a demanding presence about him, something Aryn never would. He was able to traverse the crowd with ease as most people parted for him.


    They wormed their way into a spot at the bar, and Oliver¡¯s voice rang loud over the ruckus.


    ¡°Oi! Two pints and two shots of brandy!¡±


    He set a rather dense coin purse on the counter, and with startling speed their drinks were presented to them. Oliver slid the appropriate amount of coin to the barkeep, along with a tip, before turning his attention to him.


    ¡°What should we toast to, hm?¡± he asked through the buzz of the tavern, raising his glass of brandy towards Aryn.


    Aryn proceeded to pick up his. He looked off into space for a moment in thought before turning back to Oliver with a smirk. ¡°To avoiding responsibilities,¡± he concluded.


    A hearty laugh burst from the noble¡¯s mouth as a broad grin grew on his face. ¡°I¡¯ll fucking drink to that.¡±


    They touched glasses and Oliver shot back his liquor with hardened experience. Aryn on the other hand had to give it three goes in order to get the whole thing down. It burned his throat and tasted something awful. As he finally forced himself to finish, he placed the glass down on the counter and shook his head, his face scrunched up in disgust.


    ¡°Why the hell would anyone drink that?¡± he asked hoarsely between a few coughs.


    Oliver proceeded to laugh and place a hand on his slim shoulder. ¡°Because it¡¯s cheap and effective. We can¡¯t all drink fancy wine, Your Highness,¡± he teased.


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk,¡± he shot back playfully, taking a sip of his ale to wash the brandy from his mouth. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    They sat and drank for a while, losing track of time. Eventually Oliver had grabbed his arm and dragged him to the middle of the floor where many folk were jumping around and dancing. Aryn had never danced like this before. At first he was hesitant, but with enough goading from Oliver, he embraced it and joined in. It felt very freeing. His cheeks had begun to hurt from the constant smiling and laughing. The room was spinning slightly, as they had had quite a bit to drink. But it wasn¡¯t a bad thing. Aryn had never really let himself cut loose like this, never had anyone to do it with especially.


    Amidst the joyful chaos, he found himself locking eyes with Oliver. The two were giggling like fools as they danced, and slowly they both began to stop, breaths heavy. The look in the young man¡¯s eyes started to change. He grabbed Aryn by the arm again and headed to the barkeep. The prince couldn¡¯t really hear what they were saying, but just as quickly as they had gotten to the bar, Oliver was then guiding him upstairs to where the rooms were.


    His feet were clumsy beneath him as he slightly leaned against Oliver, giggling under his breath. The noble deftly unlocked the door and moved Aryn inside with him before closing and locking it. The constant, invasive noise of the tavern below was muffled to a very distant hum as Aryn welcomed the quiet reprieve. He was actually rather shocked he had been able to stay amongst so many people that long, but he chalked it up to the alcohol.


    ¡°That was so fucking fun,¡± he slurred with a chuckle, plopping down heavily on the bed. ¡°You really do like to party huh?¡±


    Oliver threw the key and his other belongings on the table with a smirk. ¡°Amongst other things. You¡¯re not feeling too drunk, are you?¡±


    Aryn took a steadying breath and made an effort to ground himself. If he focused, he felt pretty in control. His mind was clear, but his perception was slightly altered. He hadn¡¯t been this drunk in a while, but objectively he certainly wasn¡¯t horribly intoxicated.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m okay. Just a bit tipsy,¡± he concluded. Amongst the far more quiet and controlled environment, that swimming, foggy feeling of drunkenness was quickly coming down.


    ¡°Good. Do you need food or water?¡±


    The tone in Oliver¡¯s voice was oddly caring, protective almost. It stirred some emotions in his gut.


    ¡°No, I got plenty to eat earlier. And I don¡¯t want to be running to the chamberpot a million times tonight,¡± he pointed out with a shy chuckle.


    The noble smiled softly and let out a quiet breath through his nose, something like a laugh. ¡°Alright. Just checking.¡±


    His boots clicked densely on the wooden floor as he slowly strode over to where Aryn sat on the bed. For a moment, he seemed rather intimidating. But then he knelt down so that their faces were level and¡­ began removing Aryn¡¯s boots.


    This act rather shocked him. Mayhaps it was because it seemed so out of character for this man he had begun to know. Usually people removed their own shoes, or a servant did it. For another nobleman to be doing such a thing¡­ it was odd. But then he remembered what he had said about society¡¯s expectations, and it seemed a bit less unexpected.


    ¡°Oliver, you don¡¯t need¨C¡±


    ¡°I know. But you¡¯ve been so gracious to me today, I figured I should return the favor. You are a prince afterall. You¡¯re above me.¡±


    That made his face flush hot. ¡°N-no. I don¡¯t want to be. And please don¡¯t treat me like I am. I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    A smirk grew on Oliver¡¯s face, and he looked up to lock eyes with Aryn as he yanked off his first boot. ¡°I knew I liked you for some reason.¡±


    His face grew even more red as he averted his gaze. He attempted to find other things to look at while Oliver removed his other boot, but that endeavor quickly proved futile when suddenly a strong pair of hands gripped his thighs. His head snapped back towards the nobleman, his stomach tensing.


    The look in Oliver¡¯s eyes had changed, and it was a look very similar to last night. One hand released his thigh to cup his face. His hands were calloused in places, like Percy¡¯s¡­ just for vastly different reasons. Their hair colors were not unalike, just the textures. Oliver had hair like his own: fine and soft and wavy. The amber color of his eyes almost seemed unnatural. As he drew closer, Aryn could smell the aroma of herbs and more grounded florals, as well as the lingering scent from the tavern.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met someone who has intrigued me quite as much as you, Aryn.¡±


    His voice was low and sultry, and it seemed to penetrate his ears in a way that stirred his soul. His thumb brushed the prince¡¯s cheek softly, then slowly traveled around to trace his bottom lip. His other hand slid up his thigh to grip his waist beneath his shirt. He could feel his breeches involuntarily growing tighter.


    ¡°Is this wrong?¡± he asked in a near whisper.


    Oliver¡¯s face drew close to his, their noses brushing against one another¡¯s. His lips seemed to part eagerly against his will.


    ¡°Does it feel wrong?¡±


    Slowly their lips connected, and as they began to kiss, Aryn could feel himself melting away. Oliver¡¯s grip on his waist tightened, and he carefully pulled the prince closer, sliding between his legs. Their heights aligned perfectly in their current position, Oliver sitting up tall on his knees while Aryn sat on the low bed. The prince allowed his hands to roam now, one tangling in his hair while the other slid down his neck to his shoulder. It all felt a bit more natural this time, now that he knew what to expect.


    He felt a tug as Oliver began to lift his shirt over his head. He raised his arms for him, and as soon as the nobleman carelessly tossed the shirt away, Aryn was glued back to him. His strong hand held the small of his back while the other cupped the back of his neck, pressing their bodies together tightly.


    The kissing was soft at first, but the longer it went on, the more intense it became. Aryn¡¯s breathing had sped up and grown deeper, and he couldn¡¯t help but let out small noises whenever Oliver bit and sucked at his skin. At some point the nobleman had removed his own shirt, and the feeling of their skin pressing against each other¡¯s set Aryn¡¯s body aflame. Every once in a while Oliver would brush his fingers over the growing bulge in his breeches, and quickly his loins began to ache. He yearned for that release, like last night.


    He was pushed down on his back by a strong hand to his chest. It was then that Oliver rose from the floor and feverishly fumbled with his own boots, removing them along with his pants. He also undid Aryn¡¯s and slid them from his legs. A messy pile of garments was now forming on the floor. Oliver climbed on top of him and pressed their hips together, causing Aryn to moan. Their faces met again as the nobleman brushed his lips along the prince¡¯s jaw, gently biting his ear.


    Aryn let his hands explore the man¡¯s back, his chest and shoulders, and eventually he gathered enough nerve to place his hand elsewhere. He felt Oliver tense up, and as he gently squeezed and palmed, a quiet groan of pleasure finally escaped his mouth. It rumbled in the prince¡¯s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.


    He felt Oliver tuck his thumbs into the waistband of his undergarments and begin to tug. In a haze, he instinctively lifted his hips to allow for their removal. Quickly thereafter, the nobleman removed his as well.


    A new feverishness had fallen over the two, and Aryn quickly started to become overwhelmed by the pure aching and wanting in his body. He could tell Oliver felt the same, as the way he touched him and kissed him had grown more aggressive. At one point, he grabbed Aryn¡¯s hand and forcefully placed it back to where it once had been. The prince found himself touching him the same way he might touch himself. But it seemed that had not been enough, for after a few moments Oliver pressed his hips back into his, grinding them against each other.


    It all seemed so distant yet so present at once. Part of Aryn¡¯s mind couldn¡¯t believe this was happening, and another part was begging for it not to stop. As he closed his eyes, focusing on the sensations, he found himself imagining a different face. And imagining this face made him want it even more. It all kept growing more and more intense, closer and closer and farther and farther, until his moans turned more into desperate whimpers. He went from wanting to begging, to needing.


    And Oliver seemed to realize this. Suddenly he was gripped strongly as the nobleman sat up off of him. His rough hands moved in such a way as to flip him onto his stomach, and the other pushed open his legs. He could feel Oliver leaning over him, and his lips feverishly kissed at the skin on his back. He felt his hips press against his backside, and Aryn could sense how he was restraining himself.


    But the restraint didn¡¯t last long. There was once again space between them briefly, but it was closed by what at first felt familiar. Then it went farther.


    Aryn¡¯s heart leapt into his throat at the indescribable feeling. He had been so caught up in Oliver, in finally exploring what it felt like to be wanted, what he wanted to feel like with Percy¡­


    This was too much. It was too fast. It wasn¡¯t right.


    He flipped back around in a panic, knocking Oliver slightly off balance, and found himself scrambling to the top of the bed, his breathing rapid and uneven. His chest was growing tighter and tighter, and soon enough it felt like he was being choked from the inside. Tears welled in his eyes as he attempted to find words, but he had no air to speak them. Instead all he could do was shake his head.


    The lust that had been clouding Oliver¡¯s eyes quickly cleared as he looked up at the terrified young man before him. He slowly reached his hands up and forward, beginning to move towards Aryn.


    ¡°Aryn¡­ are you okay? I¡¯m so sorry, I thought¨C¡±


    His words caught in his throat as he scooted up the bed to sit on his knees in front of the prince now. Gentle hands cupped his face as he stared into his glassy blue eyes with overwhelming concern.


    ¡°Wh-what were you doing?¡± he managed to gasp out.


    ¡°Well¡­ I thought we were going to make love,¡± he stated hesitantly. ¡°But¡­ now I realize that was a very bad idea.¡±


    He was slowly beginning to find his breath again. A few tears tumbled from his eyes and ran down his cheeks onto Oliver¡¯s hands. ¡°But I¡­ I thought I wanted it. It felt like I wanted it¡­¡±


    A gentle, patient look came over the nobleman¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯ve never done this before. I¡¯m sure your body wanted it, but you weren¡¯t ready. And it¡¯s okay. I shouldn¡¯t have just started in like that¡­ I just haven¡¯t been around people as¡­ inexperienced as you in a long time, and I forgot what that¡¯s like.¡±


    ¡°But I want it with him,¡± he whispered, a distant stare forming on his face as his lip began to tremble. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, we shouldn¡¯t be doing this¨C¡±


    ¡°Why, because you¡¯re in love with someone?¡±


    Aryn expected him to look mad, but instead there was a soft, understanding expression on the nobleman¡¯s face.


    ¡°I¡­ I think so.¡±


    Oliver moved off the bed and fetched their shirts and undergarments from the floor, handing Aryn his. He gratefully clothed himself again, feeling extremely vulnerable now that they had stopped. Oliver got back on the bed once he was clothed, sitting across from the prince with his legs crossed. He gently tucked a piece of hair behind Aryn¡¯s ear.


    ¡°So. Tell me about him then.¡±


    He pressed his lips together in thought. ¡°We uh¡­ we met a few weeks ago. He works at another tavern around here, but he mainly helps his father. He¡¯s apprenticing as a blacksmith at the moment but¡­ it¡¯s not what he wants to do. He¡¯s actually more of an artist. He¡¯s just¡­ different. He understands the weird ways that I feel sometimes and makes me feel normal.


    ¡°We ended up staying with each other at the tavern one night because we were drinking, and I had this nightmare again. And he just¡­ held me. He took care of me. Without question. And ever since then I¡¯ve been having these thoughts about him, of wanting to be close to him but I didn¡¯t realize what that meant until last night. But I have no idea if he feels like that too and I don¡¯t want to ruin the friendship that we¡¯re fostering. So I¡¯m just¡­ stuck.¡±


    Oliver took his hand in his, brushing his thumb over the back of it. ¡°Well clearly he cares for you. Let me ask you this¡­ Would you regret it if you never tried to see if he felt the same about you? Would you be okay with just pretending the rest of your life around him?¡±


    There was a long silence that filled the room before finally Aryn looked up at him with starry eyes.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then tell him. You might lose your friendship, but it would probably hurt less than never knowing and always pretending.¡±


    The prince let out a heavy sigh before he climbed onto Oliver¡¯s lap, straddling him. The nobleman looked surprised.


    ¡°I need to thank you. For this. I didn¡¯t know who I really was until we met last night. I didn¡¯t know what my feelings meant because it just wasn¡¯t natural for me to think of doing these things with a man. My whole life intimacy has been presented to me between a man and a woman, and I guess I was just unable to wrap my head around a different possibility. So thank you. Truly.¡±


    Oliver smiled warmly as he held Aryn by the small of his back. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this means we can¡¯t have fun with each other anymore though.¡±


    The prince chuckled softly, a shy smile forming on his lips. ¡°No¡­ but I would like it if maybe you just held me tonight. Maybe kiss me a bit more¡­ I don¡¯t know if Percy feels the same way about me, and if he doesn¡¯t, I don¡¯t want to miss out on this chance of exploring myself with you. I-If that¡¯s okay¡­ I don¡¯t want you to think I¡¯m using you I¨C¡±


    Oliver could hear the panic picking up in his voice and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. ¡°I don¡¯t. I promise. I wasn¡¯t attaching strings to this. You¡¯re perfectly fine, Aryn.¡±


    The prince wrapped his arms around his neck, their foreheads pressing together. They exchanged soft kisses, not like the ones from earlier. A gentle intimacy and a calmness settled over the two as the buzz of the tavern could still faintly be heard downstairs. Oliver¡¯s hands traversed his body carefully, like someone handling a delicate vase. Aryn sensed that maybe the nobleman needed this too.


    Maybe because of the way he was, the way they were, it was hard to make emotional connections with someone when everything had to be a secret. He got the feeling that Oliver never let himself get attached for that very reason. It made sense if nothing fruitful or meaningful was realistically able to come from any of it. But with that approach comes not being able to experience moments like these, the gentle quiet moments that really do mean something.


    They stayed like that for a long while, until the tavern seemed to sleep. During that time, Oliver had told him stories. Stories of how he grew up, of when he realized he was different. How he got into fighting. How he and his father also didn¡¯t get along. Aryn returned the stories, talking about his mother and his relationship with his brother. About how he had never felt normal or that he fit in. He told him more about meeting Percy.


    Eventually they grew tired, and as the two lied down to sleep, Oliver¡¯s arm wrapped around his waist, he made himself a promise.

 Eight

    The last few weeks had been tortuous. It wasn¡¯t just like he could walk into the inner circle, up to the castle and ask to see Prince Aryn Stewart. So each passing day he did what he always did: worked. He worked, and if he had time, he sketched. The new charcoals felt amazing in his hand, and they glided across the paper like ice. But he couldn¡¯t help but feel this twinge of sadness, almost anger, as he used them.


    Maybe he really didn¡¯t like me. Maybe he was just trying to be polite. Shouldn¡¯t have gotten my hopes up.


    ¡°Idiot¡­¡± he mumbled to himself.


    ¡°What was that, Son?¡±


    The heat on his face from the forge snapped him back to reality, along with the gruff voice of his father.


    ¡°Nothing, Pa. Just forgot to fold the metal another time. Gotta reheat it now.¡±


    A horribly loud sizzle rang in his ears as his father plunged his own steel into water. He had never been bothered by the normal sounds of the forge. At this point in his life they were usually nothing more than background noise, something he could zone out. But now everything seemed to be offensive, overwhelming.


    ¡°Have you ever felt exhausted? ¡­Like your nerves are so frayed they feel on fire?¡±


    ¡°Well don¡¯t keep forgetting or the metal¡¯ll get brittle,¡± he pointed out.


    He could hear the subtly patronizing tone in the veteran blacksmith¡¯s voice. And he didn¡¯t blame him. Lately his father found himself constantly reminding Percy of simple things he¡¯d been taught ages ago, like he was regressing. Truth be told he was. Not because he couldn¡¯t do it, but because he didn¡¯t want to, and his mind was somewhere else a bit too often these days.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel so well. I think the heat¡¯s getting to me. Do you mind if I take a break?¡± he murmured unconvincingly beneath the roar of the embers.


    His father gave him a skeptical look before jerking his head to the side, silently giving him leave. Percy removed his smithing gear a bit too eagerly and left through the back door, towards the house. He didn¡¯t realize why he had started to feel sick until he stared in the small cloudy mirror propped precariously on top of his dresser. Light lines parted the soot on his cheeks, reaching the corners of his mouth before something dripped off his chin.


    He furrowed his brow first in confusion, then in anger. Strong hands forcefully wiped at his eyes and face before slamming down on the wood in front of him. A quiet rage built up in his chest, a sense of immense frustration he didn¡¯t know what to do with.


    ¡°Fuck this,¡± he growled through clenched teeth.


    He grabbed his satchel and flung it over his shoulder before storming out of the room back towards the forge. The door flew open a bit too aggressively with the winter wind, which caused his father to whirl on him with a rather astounded expression.


    ¡°Now what in the hell are you slamming my doors for, boy?¡± he interrogated, a glowing sword in hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±


    His voice was uncharacteristically quiet.


    ¡°Done? What do you mean ¡®done¡¯? We still have orders to finish today,¡± he pointed out angrily.


    ¡°No. I¡¯m done smithing.¡±


    His father scoffed and plunged the metal into liquid, removed it, and crossed his muscular arms.


    ¡°Percy, don¡¯t be ridiculous. You¡¯re good at smithing. And someone needs to keep up the family business. Your brother can¡¯t, he¡¯s off at war. Be grateful he¡¯s the elder and had to go, not you.¡±


    He flung his hand out angrily. ¡°Why should I have to? Why does everything about our family fall on my goddamn shoulders?¡±


    ¡°You will watch your tone with me, boy¡­¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t Jory do it? He¡¯s just as good at smithing as me, probably better. He¡¯s not gonna be away forever. Besides, it¡¯s like you said, he¡¯s the elder of us. He¡¯s getting all of this anyway, not me¨C¡±


    ¡°Which is why we need to find you a wife. And mind you, I¡¯ve been shamelessly trying to convince any man worth his salt around here to consider marrying his daughter to you!¡±


    An exacerbated breath left Percy¡¯s chest. ¡°I never asked you to do that! Just like I never asked to be your apprentice¨C¡±


    ¡°But you need to marry¨C¡±


    ¡°I DON¡¯T WANT TO!¡±


    A deafening silence filled the space as his voice had raised to its peak. Tears brimmed in his eyes as his face and neck turned red. Meanwhile his father was white as a ghost, eyes like cold stone, daring him to open his mouth again.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not like you, Pa. As much as you want me to be, I¡¯m not,¡± he admitted quietly, his voice cracking as it proved difficult for him to take an even breath.


    The expression on his face softened slightly, but it was a look of disappointment. ¡°Go. We can talk about this later¡­¡±


    With an embarrassed bow of his head, Percy slipped through the door back out into the cold winter¡¯s day. Light snowflakes were beginning to fall and dust the ground, just as they had the day he came to call on him. He stood in the snow for a long while, staring at the ground, frozen. He felt utterly lost, adrift in a place of uncertainty. There was only one place he knew to go, and that was the tavern.


    The whole time he worked he was in a haze. Everything seemed distant and trivial. He got lost in his thoughts, falling deeper and deeper into a dark hole of depressing possibilities. It was like nothing had meaning anymore.


    He was my meaning. And that¡¯s gone too.


    ¡°Percy?¡±


    His emerald eyes rose from the bar to spot a ghost. Snowflakes dusted his hair like before, and his eyes seemed to melt from a blueish grey to the color of a lake upon entering the warm glow of the tavern. He thought he would be happy to see him, overjoyed even. But all he felt in that moment was anger.


    ¡°Aryn. What are you doing here?¡± he asked flatly, his brow furrowed.


    He spotted the brief look of hurt confusion on the prince¡¯s face. It oddly made him feel better.


    ¡°I¡­ I wanted to see you.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re about to close. So I don¡¯t have much time unfortunately.¡±


    His blue eyes blinked with subtle incredulity. He could see the underlying panic on his soft face.


    ¡°W-Well, can we go upstairs when you¡¯re done cleaning up then? I was really wanting to talk to you...¡±


    The tone of his voice was pleading, desperate, scared even. Percy selfishly hoped he was feeling even a modicum of the pain he¡¯d been made to feel.


    ¡°I guess. But I have to get home at some point tonight,¡± he murmured disinterestedly.


    Truth be told he found it harder and harder to keep up the uncaring facade. The hurt he could see on Aryn¡¯s face filled his heart with contradicting emotions. On one hand, he was glad. On the other, the guilt was piercing through his chest like a well-sharpened dagger.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    So the prince waited. Percy could feel the unbearable tension in the air, noticed the way he avoided eye contact. He knew Aryn was feeling some sort of animosity aimed at him. It was also safe to say he could tell why, as a subtle flavor of guilt was clouding his eyes as well.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m done. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He grabbed a set of keys and took off upstairs, not looking back to see if Aryn was following. His heart was racing, blood rushing, his nerves on fire. His hands shook slightly as he unlocked the door and threw the keys on a nearby table, going to stand by the window so as to not have to look at the prince.


    The door quietly clicked shut and locked behind him as a tense silence filled the room for a moment.


    ¡°I¡­ wanted to see how you¡¯re doing,¡± Aryn began. He could hear the nerves practically dripping from his voice.


    ¡°Well, my father is horribly upset with me, I haven¡¯t been sleeping well, and my appetite is gone. How¡¯s your pampered life been?¡± he asked back, venom in his words.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I didn¡¯t realize you were having a hard time. Is something going on¨C¡±


    He whirled on him, arms crossed. ¡°Where were you?¡±


    The prince stumbled over his words as they caught in his throat. ¡°I-I¡­ I wanted to see you. I really did. I was just¨C¡±


    Percy scoffed and rolled his eyes. ¡°Stop lying to me. Is this another house call because you feel sorry for me? How often should I expect you to come ¡®round now, just for reference? A fortnight? A month?¡±


    ¡°Percy please, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Aryn¡¯s eyes grew starry with tears as he began to step forward, his arms hugged around himself.


    ¡°Do you know how miserable I¡¯ve been without you?¡± he said loudly. ¡°It¡¯s cruel, what you did. You think you can just come into someone¡¯s life, toy with them, and leave without an explanation?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he exclaimed back, eyes wide with panic. ¡°Percy I never meant to hurt you¨C¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t hurt me¡­ You torture me, Aryn,¡± he stated quietly, voice shaking.


    The prince¡¯s mouth fell open slightly, a helpless look on his face as his chest heaved once with a heavy breath while searching for words.


    ¡°Percy I¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    He turned back to the window, eyes stinging. ¡°I think you should go...¡±


    Silence fell over them once more, a far more definitive silence.


    This was it. They were done.


    He knew Aryn would never understand how he felt. No one would. It wasn¡¯t normal. God truly was a cruel master, letting him finally find someone he thought was different, someone whom he¡¯d found true friendship in, only for it all to be a lie. How could he have been so naive?


    ¡°No. I¡¯m not going. Not until I tell you the truth.¡±


    Percy scoffed and shook his head. ¡°And what truth is that?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t come to see you for so long because¡­ because I was afraid. I was afraid of exactly this after I told you what I¡¯ve been wanting to.¡±


    An invisible weight sank in his stomach as he turned to the prince, spotting the tears leaking from his blue eyes. He stepped closer to Aryn then, the space between them growing uncomfortably small as he towered over the boy.


    ¡°What did you want to tell me?¡±


    He watched him struggle for words. He watched real fear grip at the prince¡¯s insides as it choked him, an invisible hand held over his mouth. As much as he tried, the words couldn¡¯t escape.


    ¡°Aryn, just tell me.¡±


    His heart broke as he witnessed tears flow freely down the boy¡¯s cheeks. He had only seen him cry like this once, when he¡¯d woken still captured in a nightmare. His instincts were similar now as they were then. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him, to stroke his hair and whisper words of reassurance in his ear. To kiss him on the head and tell him everything would be all right. But that was just it. He couldn¡¯t. He never could.


    ¡°Aryn¨C¡±


    The prince let out a breathy sob, his face twisting in pure frustration, as his delicate hands suddenly gripped his face. He was pulled downward slightly before Aryn¡¯s lips crashed into his.


    It felt as if the stars had exploded. The world was gone and all that was left was them, in this moment, together. His arms moved of their own accord to wrap tightly around Aryn¡¯s waist, pulling him in as close as physically possible. The prince¡¯s soft, delicate hands felt like silk on his face as each little touch spread radiant warmth across his skin. As he kissed him, he felt whole.


    With their faces so close, he could feel the tears on Aryn¡¯s cheeks. After a few moments of their embrace, he slowly pulled away, just enough to look into those blue eyes. His hands moved from his back to his porcelain face, gently wiping at the tears.


    ¡°Is this what you wanted to tell me?¡± he whispered as a grin spread across his lips.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    His efforts had proved futile as his words suddenly provoked another cascade of tears from the prince¡¯s eyes, and yet a radiant smile took up his beautiful face as a sharp sigh escaped his lips.


    Aryn nodded vigorously before closing the gap between them once more. This time Percy kissed him more confidently, more firmly. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than this. His thoughts had been consumed by one thing and one thing only for the past month, and he couldn¡¯t believe that it turned out to be real.


    His hands found their way to his feathery blonde hair, and they freely caressed and tangled themselves in it. Free. That was a good word to describe it. He felt free now. Since they¡¯d met, it was like he had been restrained. He had never felt it more so than when they¡¯d spent that night together. But now, as they embraced each other, the shackles had been shattered.


    He found himself guiding them towards the bed and sat, gently gripping Aryn by the waist as one hand cradled the back of his head. His heart leapt, and he couldn¡¯t help another grin growing on his face when the prince eagerly climbed onto him, his knees straddling either side. Then something he didn¡¯t expect.


    Laughter. They were laughing.


    It became evident that he had never experienced joy like this. Neither of them had. The sheer happiness that bubbled up inside was nearly too much, and it escaped them as breathy chuckles and giggles through ridiculously giddy smiles, so much so that it was proving difficult to keep their lips on one another¡¯s.


    So instead he cupped Aryn¡¯s face in his hands and looked upon him. The prince¡¯s cheeks were rose-colored, his eyes shimmering in the dim candlelight with what could only be described as pure ecstasy. His face was softly featured, like some sort of angel you¡¯d seen in a dream. And his smile was so incredibly beautiful. He was sure now he had never seen Aryn smile like this. Maybe a shy twitch of the lips here and there, but he¡¯d never seen the prince so utterly happy. And to believe it was because of him¡­


    Their giddiness slowly calmed as Percy pressed his forehead to his, both of them becoming more grounded as the moment passed.


    ¡°Do you know how long I¡¯ve been wanting to hold you like this?¡± he whispered, surprised to feel his throat tightening slightly.


    Aryn held his face as he sat atop his lap, their stomachs and chests pressed close together. ¡°Too long?¡±


    A breathy chuckle escaped Percy¡¯s lips as he brushed a thumb across the prince¡¯s cheekbone. ¡°Too long¡­¡±


    ¡°Percy¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I never finished telling you what I wanted to.¡±


    He pulled back ever so slightly, just enough to take Aryn in. His hand instinctively continued to touch him, stroking his hair and touching his face. He simply couldn¡¯t stop.


    The look in the prince¡¯s eyes changed, that nervousness coming back. But not the same kind as before. It was more of an excited nervousness, an anticipation. Overpowering all of that though was the longing that Percy saw in his deep blue irises.


    ¡°I realized this is what I wanted, well¡­ because of someone else. They showed me what it was I physically wanted, and they gave me the guts to finally show you how I feel. But¡­ this isn¡¯t all that I want from you. I want you, yes. I want to touch you, and kiss you, and I want you to hold me and embrace me and¡­ make love to me, eventually.


    ¡°But I want you. I want to be with you. Because no one has ever made me feel the way you do. I¡¯ve never felt so wanted, so understood¡­ I have felt so alone my whole life. And after my mum died, I genuinely didn¡¯t think that I belonged in this world. I almost left it. And that was when I met you. That night¡­ I was planning to die. No one wanted me. I had no purpose. And I just so happened to stumble into that tavern.


    ¡°You saved me, Percy. You made me realize that I meant something. And that night we spent together¡­ That''s when I knew it was you. I didn¡¯t understand what it meant yet, but my heart did. So I want to be with you. For as long as you¡¯ll have me.¡±


    Tears came again, but this time they ran from his own eyes, not the prince¡¯s. He gripped Aryn¡¯s face as he shook his own head.


    ¡°First of all. Don¡¯t you ever say those things about yourself again, Aryn Stewart. I want you. And you are my purpose. I realized that today. I couldn¡¯t stand being in that forge a second longer. Nothing felt right while you were gone. I was a goddamn mess. All I could think about since the moment I met you, was you.¡±


    He tenderly pressed their lips together, his quivering slightly. They brushed against one another¡¯s as he spoke.


    ¡°Being with you is the only thing I want.¡±


    Smaller, softer hands placed themselves over his as Aryn slid his palms down towards Percy¡¯s wrists, wrapping around them gently. The prince guided his hands down towards his chest where the laces of his shirt rested. Without a word, Percy slowly and carefully began loosening them, glancing back and forth between his work and Aryn¡¯s eyes. Once they¡¯d been undone, he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on the prince¡¯s collarbone, then the other side, then one lower on his chest before sitting up again to where their faces met.


    ¡°I thought you were going to kiss me that night,¡± Aryn murmured softly.


    ¡°Believe me, I wanted to,¡± he whispered back, their lips brushing.


    He found his hands caressing the prince¡¯s sides until they had slid their way down to his waist, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt impatiently.


    ¡°What do you want now?¡±


    Aryn touched his face, his neck, his hair¡­ And slowly this fire inside of him grew hotter and hotter. His hands gripped the prince¡¯s waist tightly, feeling his skin and the warmth radiating from him.


    ¡°You. I just want all of you.¡±


    As if in silent permission, Aryn squeezed the hands that gripped him, around his waist and by the hem of his shirt. Stifling his want, his need, he slowly and gently lifted Aryn¡¯s shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floor. He leaned back slightly so as to look upon him better.


    He was thin, his porcelain skin stuck tightly to his ribs. And yet there was a softness to him, an opposition to the harsh contours created by his bones. A dark freckle occupied the left side of his chest, just under his collarbone, as well as a few others sprinkled along his arms. The hair on his arms was a cool, light brown, and it was hard to see unless the light was angled the right way. His chest was smooth, as well as most of his stomach save a small patch of light brown that began slightly below his belly button, trailing downward.


    His hands moved of their own accord as he ran them over the prince¡¯s shoulders, then slowly down his chest and around to his back. He pulled Aryn towards him, placing a featherlight kiss on the freckle by his collarbone. Smaller, delicate hands worked their way gently into his curly hair as Aryn¡¯s chest heaved subtly beneath his lips.


    Thoughts ran through his mind, images of desire flashing as he moved one hand to the prince¡¯s stomach. He felt Aryn¡¯s travel down and come to rest at the hem of his own shirt.


    ¡°I want to see you¡­¡± he whispered, his soft voice sending a wave of longing through him.


    He looked up to lock eyes as he slowly lifted his arms overhead. Their gaze was briefly interrupted by a curtain of fabric before Aryn tossed it carelessly to the floor. The prince¡¯s blue irises glazed over as Percy patiently watched him explore his body.


    Soft hands came to rest on his collarbone, fingertips slowly gliding over the prominence and towards his broad shoulders, then down his arm. His own skin was a stark contrast to the young man¡¯s before him. Though not excessively so, his chest was occupied by dark brown hair. A few faded scars dotted his chest and stomach from his younger years, as well as far more recent burn marks peppering his forearms. And he was tan, as most common folk were. The prince¡¯s fingers came to rest on one of the scars on his chest.


    ¡°What¡¯s this from?¡± he asked softly, a small smile on his pink lips.


    ¡°Ah, I think I was about¡­ thirteen at the time? This group of shitheads were picking on a boy, had shoved him into a puddle of waste in the gutters, for God¡¯s sake. He was so small¡­ it made me so angry. So I went and picked a fight with three boys bigger than me and, well¡­ I definitely got what I was asking for.¡±


    ¡°Did they stab you?¡± he asked incredulously.


    ¡°Nah, one slashed at me with a whittling knife before I knocked his teeth out,¡± he said with a smirk.


    They both chuckled breathily, Aryn biting his lip through a smile. ¡°You¡¯ve always had a soft spot for the little guys, huh?¡±


    ¡°You could say that,¡± he murmured cheekily, glancing back up at the prince before he placed a kiss on his stomach.


    ¡°Was your father mad?¡±


    ¡°He pretended like he was, gave me a good lashing in front of the boy¡¯s father. But afterwards he told me, ¡®don¡¯t stop sticking up for those who can¡¯t stick up for themselves just because you might get your hands dirty¡¯. And that stuck with me.¡±


    A sad smile spread across Aryn¡¯s face as he ran a hand through his curls. ¡°He seems like a great father.¡±


    Percy¡¯s chest tightened in that moment, and he found himself holding the prince¡¯s face. ¡°Do not let your father belittle you, Aryn. You are so much more than he says you are.¡±


    Aryn¡¯s lashes fluttered as he glanced downward, swallowing with emotion. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like I am.¡±


    ¡°You are to me.¡±


    The prince lifted his eyes to his, an aura of intimacy entering them. He brushed a thumb over Aryn¡¯s cheek before pulling him closer by the small of his back. Their lips met, and an ember was quickly stoked once more within him.


    This young man, this prince, this devastatingly beautiful boy¡­ he wanted nothing so badly than to make him feel wanted, to make him feel worthy.


    He felt Aryn wrap his arms around his shoulders and responded by tangling his hand in the back of his ashen hair. Despite the dry cold, his lips were soft, as if they were made of the finest silk. They brushed and glided against his own with ease, but he no longer wished to tread lightly on that beautiful terrain. He deepened the kiss, tightening his grip as his tongue teased at the gates of Aryn¡¯s mouth. The prince eagerly parted for him as he trailed his delicate hands down Percy¡¯s body, feeling the ridges and valleys of his muscled form.


    An ache began to creep into him, deep in his stomach. Their tongues danced together timidly, and the hesitancy only fueled that ache more. He found his hands reaching for the laces on Aryn¡¯s breeches, brushing his fingertips over them in request.


    ¡°Is this okay?¡± he whispered lowly, retreating just enough to where their lips still brushed one another¡¯s.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he whispered back, an overwhelming sense of longing in the prince¡¯s voice as his breath tickled Percy¡¯s face.


    Slowly, he began to loosen the laces, letting his fingers linger and explore as he did so. He trailed his lips down Aryn¡¯s neck, then to his collarbone, back to that freckle, then his chest. Once the laces had been thoroughly untied, he gripped the prince and stood, gently flipping him onto his back. He placed a line of kisses down his stomach, then dared to brush his lips across the growing bulge in Aryn¡¯s breeches before slowly sliding them down off of his hips. The fabric fell to the floor, leaving him only in a thin pair of undergarments.


    The prince¡¯s skin had become warm and flushed, and a very subtle trembling had begun in his core. Percy could feel it as he placed a strong hand on his hip bone, tucking his thumb into the waistband of those undergarments.


    ¡°I want to see all of you.¡±


    Aryn proceeded to sit up on his elbows, creating small folds in his stomach. They locked eyes, and, to Percy¡¯s surprise, the look in the other boy¡¯s appeared nervous, almost guilty.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t think you do.¡±


    ¡°Of course I do. Aryn, I want you, whatever that looks like.¡±


    His throat bobbed as that trembling intensified. But the prince nodded with permission and hesitantly lifted his hips. Percy slid his undergarments down almost agonizingly slow, admiring every small inch that was revealed until he pulled them from his ankles and let them drop to the floor.


    As he gazed upon his legs, his hips¡­ several uniform scars lined the insides of his thighs. He knew Aryn saw him staring, as his chest began to heave and his breath became shaky. Gingerly, he climbed back onto the bed, between the prince¡¯s legs. He let his hands explore, gently gliding them over one leg, then the hip, across the stomach, to the other hip, and finally down the opposite thigh. His fingers came to rest upon those scars as he ever so delicately traced them with his fingertips.


    Then he leaned down and began softly placing kisses to them.


    ¡°Percy¡­¡±


    Aryn¡¯s voice shook and broke at the whisper of his name. His heart ached as he moved to the other thigh, firmly gripping his hip, and thoroughly covered the scars on that side as well. He could feel Aryn shake and lurch subtly, sucking in a sharp breath every now and again. The sheets shifted underneath him as he could hear the sound of fabric being balled up.


    He brushed his lips across Aryn¡¯s leg to his hip, then his lower stomach, before raising his head. The boy was staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks, fists clenched into the bedsheets.


    ¡°Aryn¡­¡±


    The prince sucked in another sharp breath before shakily blowing out through pursed lips.


    ¡°Aryn, look at me.¡±


    He did so hesitantly.


    ¡°You are beautiful.¡±


    His blue eyes squinted shut as he shook with a sob. Percy quickly moved up his body, hips resting against one another¡¯s as he grasped Aryn¡¯s face.


    ¡°You are the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that¡­¡± he whispered through falling tears.


    It was enough to make his heart shatter.


    ¡°Yes, I do. I would fall on my knees for you, Aryn Stewart. You are everything that I want and more. When I go to sleep, I see your face. I see your deep blue eyes and that unbearably sweet smile¡­ your beautiful blonde hair that I just want to run my hands through while I hold you. I see the face of an angel when I close my eyes, and that face is yours. I hear your adorable laugh, and I feel your perfect body in my hands, as if it was made to fit in them. I look at you, and it sets me on fire. When you weren¡¯t here, I longed for you so horribly that it physically hurt.


    ¡°So yes, I do mean it when I say you are the most beautiful, most perfect, breathtaking thing I¡¯ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon.¡±


    Another tear found its way out of Aryn¡¯s eyes as his lips trembled. But instead of words being formed on those lips, they collided with his own, desperately and passionately. He sank his hips into his, pressing their bodies together until there was no space to breathe. This time it was Aryn¡¯s tongue that begged for entry, and he immediately obliged. The ember had now been stoked to a raging flame, only quenchable by one thing and one thing only.


    Clumsily he began unlacing his own breeches with one hand, bracing against the bed with the other. He got about halfway before a smaller pair of hands shooed his away, finishing the work for him. He slid away from Aryn for but a moment to allow his pants to drop to the floor and feverishly remove his undergarments before climbing back on top of him. Lips reconnected as different parts did for the first time.


    He felt Aryn shudder underneath him as they exchanged breath. His hand roamed up and down the prince¡¯s body as his hips slowly and deeply grinded against his. The ache within him had turned into an all-consuming throbbing. His stomach clenched and his abs trembled as Aryn moaned into his mouth. The prince¡¯s back arched slightly, and his legs fell open for him.


    He trailed his hand down until it reached its target, wrapping his hand around Aryn and stroking in rhythm with his own hips. A noise escaped him that nearly made Percy feral. He shoved his tongue into Aryn¡¯s mouth, needing more. Nails raked down his back, and it took everything in him not to just take the prince then and there. His hips moved faster, harder, and his hand followed suit. Aryn¡¯s breaths became more and more shallow, until he could not help them being any more than soft cries of need. It drove him absolutely mad.


    ¡°God, Aryn,¡± he moaned against his lips.


    ¡°Take me,¡± Aryn whispered back, overwhelming desire in his voice.


    He slowed his hips but deepened their pressure, eliciting another maddening noise from the prince. ¡°Aryn¡­¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± A soft hand suddenly grasped him now, stroking him. ¡°I want you, so bad it hurts.¡±


    An involuntary moan escaped his lips. ¡°You have me.¡±


    Unbearable tightness was quickly growing low in his stomach, and he now pumped his hips into Aryn¡¯s hand. His own hand worked faster as he trailed his lips down to Aryn¡¯s shoulder, biting down. The prince moaned loudly.


    ¡°Percy.¡±


    There was a sense of urgency in his voice that had not been there before as he whimpered into his ear. Percy pulled back to look into his face as Aryn¡¯s breath began catching, his mouth dropping open slightly. He pressed his forehead tightly against the prince¡¯s, his hand and hips unrelenting, as Aryn began bucking into him. The prince shuddered as his voice caught in his throat for a moment, before letting out a trembling moan, broken up by gasps of pleasure as he came. Percy felt that tightness travel downward as they locked gazes, and not long behind Aryn did he give in to release. His supporting arm shook and his abs clenched as he arrived, a noise escaping from him he had never heard himself make before.


    He rode out the wave, slowly and deeply grinding his hips against Aryn, planting his other hand on the bed as his good arm was about to give out. He felt the prince¡¯s hands grip him from behind, pulling him even closer as they began to come down. Percy slowly connected their mouths, gently biting the prince¡¯s bottom lip as they both breathed heavily. Eventually, they caught their breaths, and as his mind began to clear, Percy pulled back to look at him.


    His face was flushed, and his ashen hair stuck to his forehead. Those blue eyes were hazed with a deep desire, but at the same time they had such clarity in them. He lifted a hand to gently brush the hair from his face before caressing his blushed cheek.


    ¡°Do you believe me now?¡± he asked breathlessly, letting out a chuckle.


    Aryn laughed back just as breathless before running a hand down his damp chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I think I need more convincing.¡±


    Percy couldn¡¯t help the grin that spread across his face before he laughed once more.


    ¡°We should get cleaned up,¡± he stated softly, placing a gentle kiss to Aryn¡¯s forehead.


    ¡°Yes, we should.¡±


    A shy smile grew on the prince¡¯s face as he took in the state of them. He didn¡¯t think Aryn¡¯s cheeks could get any redder. Carefully, he removed himself from the prince and collected his pants from the floor.


    ¡°Alright uh, I¡¯ll head to the washroom first, let you catch your breath. Probably shouldn¡¯t head there together,¡± he pointed out with an awkward chuckle.


    A sense of reality came back to Aryn¡¯s face as he nodded once. ¡°Right... I¡¯ll just wait for you to come back, then I¡¯ll go.¡±


    ¡°You sure? I can wait, I¡¯d rather let you go first,¡± he insisted, referencing the state of disarray the prince¡¯s stomach was in with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.


    Color continued to rise on Aryn¡¯s cheeks.


    ¡°Actually yeah. I¡¯ll be quick,¡± he added shyly as he gingerly slid himself off the bed, careful to preserve the sheets.


    He fumbled with his pants, hopping from one leg to the other, before carefully opening the door. His ashen hair swayed as he looked back and forth to make sure no one was in the hallway before he quickly and quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.


    Percy plopped himself down into a chair and ran a hand through his damp hair, his arm fatigued, as he stared at the door. He allowed himself to finally take a deep breath, and he was surprised when a tightness formed in his chest. His vision grew slightly blurry, and for the first time in his life, as he stared up at the ceiling with his hands on his head, he allowed himself to feel completely.

 Nine

    ¡°Aryn, pass me the salt, would you?¡±


    He snapped out of his thoughts as his brother¡¯s voice rang in his ears from across the large table. Reaching his hand out, Aryn grasped the saltshaker and handed it to the person next to him to be passed down, avoiding eye contact.


    ¡°Here you go, Your Highness,¡± Oliver said as he relinquished the small glass to Philip with a curt smile.


    He knew this day had been coming for several weeks now, and yet it still hadn¡¯t helped prepare him in the slightest. He took a quick moment to glance around the table at the various occupants: a kind-looking older woman sat in front of him (thank God), her husband next to her, Father at the head of the table to his left, Lady Dahlia and his brother sharing the other head of the table, and¡­ Oliver to his right. At least the man had enough sense not to sit where it would have been easy to make eye contact.


    ¡°So, Prince Aryn,¡± the woman started.


    ¡°Just Aryn is fine, my lady.¡±


    He felt his father staring daggers at him from across the table.


    ¡°So, Aryn, we¡¯ve gotten to know all about your brother. Tell us about yourself,¡± she insisted sweetly.


    His palms instantly broke out into a sweat.


    ¡°W-Well, I¡­ I enjoy music, horse riding, and a good book by the fire from time to time, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking,¡± he elaborated briefly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let him fool you, Mother. Prince Aryn here is actually quite the dancer,¡± Oliver butted in as he sliced off a piece of lamb.


    Aryn kicked his foot under the table.


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s wonderful. Oh, you absolutely must share a dance with Dahlia at the wedding then!¡±


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t think that¡¯s necessary¨C¡± he interjected a bit too quickly.


    ¡°My son would be honored to dance with our future queen-to-be, isn¡¯t that right, Aryn?¡± Aleksander corrected coolly. Only the prince could detect the looming threat within his voice.


    He forced a small smile as he blinked away the old expression on his face, putting on the mask of a prince. ¡°Yes, of course. Although I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes, my lady. I saw you at my brother''s ball, and I can assure you that you are a far better dancer than myself,¡± he jested, forcing life into his voice.


    Everyone chuckled and smiled, going back to their meals and conversation. Dinner finally ended, and with curt goodbyes to those present, Aryn quickly made for his chambers, packing a satchel with a change of clothes before looking at himself in the mirror. He nervously picked at his hair, reshaping it over and over. Sighing with frustration at a strand that wouldn¡¯t stay, he instead dabbed on a bit of scented oil beneath his chin and on his wrists before opening his bedroom door once more to leave.


    ¡°Jesus Christ!¡± he exclaimed, nearly dropping his bag as Oliver had appeared in his doorway.


    The taller man snickered quietly as Aryn readjusted himself with an exasperated sigh.


    ¡°You do know you could knock,¡± he stated pointedly, shrugging the satchel back onto his shoulder.


    ¡°To be fair, I was about to. You were just too quick.¡±


    ¡°Well I don¡¯t intend to spend more of my night performing for my father, so if you¡¯ll excuse me¨C¡± he started as he attempted to shoulder past Oliver.


    The man placed his hand on the doorframe with a smirk. ¡°And where are you off to so late?¡±


    Aryn glanced up and down the hallway before snatching the nobleman¡¯s arm and yanking him into the room, closing the door.


    ¡°I told Percy.¡±


    Oliver¡¯s face lit up. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming it went well, judging by the extra pair of undergarments sticking out of your bag.¡±


    He quickly glanced down to spot the fabric peeking out of the satchel and clumsily tucked it in all the way, his face flushing.


    ¡°Have you two?..¡±


    ¡°Kind of,¡± he answered shyly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. Oliver raised an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯re taking things slow, somewhat. You know, taking the time to enjoy each other.¡±


    ¡°From how timid you are about it it seems you¡¯ve been enjoying him quite thoroughly¨C¡±


    ¡°Oliver,¡± he warned, glaring at the nobleman.


    He threw his hands up in defeat, smirking. ¡°My apologies, you know I like giving you a hard time. I must meet this Percy while I¡¯m in town.¡±


    ¡°You sure that wouldn¡¯t be¡­ awkward?¡± he asked hesitantly, holding his own arm.


    ¡°Not if we don¡¯t make it awkward. You two weren¡¯t together when we¡­ had our fun. Besides, he should be thanking me for helping you grow some balls and telling him how you feel.¡±


    Aryn smiled defeatedly at the nobleman. He wasn¡¯t expecting their relationship to become so¡­ friendly after their brief time together. When he first saw Oliver return to the castle, he felt as if he would be ill. Some irrational part of his brain had convinced himself that the nobleman hated him now, or that things would be unbearably uncomfortable. But thankfully Oliver had been in this situation a handful of times before, and Aryn quickly realized, to his relief, that he had meant it when he said there were no strings attached.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we can arrange that before you leave. We have a whole week after all. But tonight is not a good night. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow. If anyone asks where I am, you don¡¯t know.¡±


    Oliver nodded dutifully and clasped him on the shoulder. ¡°Of course, Your Highness,¡± he teased with a playful smile.


    With that, he strode out of his chambers and rushed down the hall, his boots clicking softly and echoing in the large passageway. Just as he reached the main doors to the castle, a cold voice called out.


    ¡°Aryn. Where are you off to so late? We have guests.¡±


    He swallowed nervously and turned to face his father. ¡°I know. I offered to retrieve something for Oliver from the city. I won¡¯t be gone long.¡±


    ¡°Well don¡¯t be too long. Tomorrow is the hunt, and we leave early in the morning. Have you found company to bring with you? The more manpower the better for hunting boars. Philip is bringing many of his friends from court. I expect you to at least bring someone.¡±


    He cringed subtly. The hunt¡­ he had forgotten. What a barbaric ritual.


    ¡°Uhm¡­ actually, there is a friend who might be interested. I¡¯ll discuss it with him while I¡¯m out.¡±


    Aleksander narrowed his eyes at his son, but thankfully he decided to leave it at that. ¡°Do not be late.¡±


    And with that, the King turned and strode towards his chambers down the opposite hallway. Aryn let out the breath he had been holding and quickly left the castle.


    His feet moved swiftly with excitement as he made his way into the middle circle of the city, towards the Lancaster¡¯s smithy. The world was dark save for the stars in the sky and the occasional tavern that was aglow with rowdy celebration. A dim, warm light radiated from the window in the house directly behind the blacksmith shop, and Aryn nearly began to run as he closed the distance.


    He rapped his knuckles softly on the door and waited. A short moment went by before the door opened with a slight squeak of the hinges and Percy stood before him, the soft glow of a fireplace illuminating him from behind. He felt his heart leap and a heat rise on his fair-colored cheeks as he took in the young man.


    The blacksmith was dressed in a relaxed manner, a simple forest green wool sweater that brought out his eyes and a pair of plain brown breeches. Aryn very much enjoyed the way Percy dressed; the simplicity was a breath of fresh air compared to the extravagant, stuffy outfits that were standard of noble descent. A grin began to grow on the dark-haired man¡¯s face as he stepped back, inviting him in. He quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind him, turning to look up at the face he constantly saw in his dreams.


    ¡°Hi,¡± he breathed, his cheeks and nose rosy from the cold.


    ¡°Hi,¡± Percy murmured back, reaching his hands up to unclasp Aryn¡¯s cloak.


    The dense fabric thumped to the ground as the blacksmith slid his arm around his waist, the other hand grasping his cheek, before their lips met. There was no urgency in the kiss, and they both lingered in it as Aryn placed a hand to his chest, back arching slightly as he shifted his weight.


    About six weeks had passed since that fateful night in the tavern, and the two had been limited to late night visits at the Dragon¡¯s Nest, when the rest of the world was sleeping. But this week, Percy¡¯s family was away on business, traveling to neighboring towns to sell their wares to soldiers and townsguards. Naturally, Percy had to stay behind to run the forge. It was the perfect opportunity to get out of that tavern room. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Strong hands tangled in his ashen hair as their kiss deepened. He felt Percy¡¯s fingers spread across his cheek and blushed even harder when teeth gently pulled at his bottom lip. The blacksmith placed an intimate kiss at the corner of his mouth, sliding the hand on his back beneath his shirt. He shivered slightly at the warmth on his chilled skin, and another tingling sensation traversed his spine as Percy¡¯s lips moved to his jaw.


    Truth be told, he was still adjusting to everything. It was nearly overwhelming at times with how Percy treated him physically, in a good way. Over the past several weeks it had become clear that the young man absolutely adored and worshiped him, treating the prince¡¯s body like a priceless piece of art. And even though they shared the same interests of attraction, they were still quite different from each other.


    Aryn had quickly discovered that Percy was much more comfortable being physical than he himself was; it seemed to come far more naturally to him. But the physicality was never purely sexual. There was always a major aspect of intimacy, and a very strong sense of adoration. Sure, their introductory affections were usually needy and hurried and passionate, what with the kissing and all that. But when things became more serious, more vulnerable, Percy had a habit of taking everything almost painstakingly slow, like he had to commit every tiny moment to memory. Those were the moments Aryn enjoyed tremendously.


    Lips brushed against his neck as the final kiss lingered before Percy pulled away, slowly sliding his hands from him. ¡°I got you something.¡±


    ¡°Me? Percy you shouldn¡¯t¨C¡±


    ¡°But I should,¡± he interjected with a sly smirk before heading over to the worn-down wooden table by the fireplace.


    He watched as Percy picked up a plain piece of cloth, clearly wrapped around something he couldn¡¯t discern.


    ¡°Close your eyes.¡±


    He scoffed playfully and did as he was told, unable to resist the smile that crept onto his face as he held his hands out. Something cold hit his palm, and he opened his eyes to a beautifully made clasp. The metal was reinforced silver, shaped delicately into a leaf-like pattern and studded with dark blue gemstones. He looked up at the blacksmith in disbelief.


    ¡°Percy this is completely unnecessary,¡± he scolded, running his fingers over the fine piece of metalwork. ¡°You better not have spent a lot of coin on this¡­¡±


    ¡°I pushed out a couple of special orders this week as a barter. I knew you would skin my hide if I shelled out for it,¡± he explained cheekily, the grin on his tanned face widening.


    A sharp sigh escaped his lips as he felt a subtle tightness in his throat. ¡°I love it¡­ I¡¯ll have to wear it tomorrow to that godforsaken hunt.¡±


    ¡°A hunt?¡± Percy raised his eyebrows curiously, brushing a stray piece of ash blonde hair from his forehead. ¡°You don¡¯t hunt.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, I know. My father is forcing me to come with the wedding party¡­ Which reminds me,¡± he sheepishly took the man¡¯s calloused hand in his. ¡°I would like you to join me.¡±


    Percy¡¯s emerald eyes widened. ¡°M-Me? Aryn, I¡¯m flattered but¡­ I¡¯m baseborn. There¡¯s no way in Hell I would be able to fit in, let alone be worthy of hunting with the goddamn King¨C¡±


    He quickly set the clasp on the table in order to hold the blacksmith¡¯s increasingly concerned face. ¡°The King is my father, who gave me no specific instruction on whom to bring, mind you. Besides, you¡¯re far more charming than you think.¡±


    A conflicted sigh escaped the young man¡¯s lips. ¡°I don¡¯t even have anything nice enough to wear.¡±


    ¡°Well lucky for you, we aren¡¯t going to a ball, now are we? I¡¯m sure you have some well-tailored winter clothes. No one is going to be wearing their best anyway; it¡¯s colder than Hell frozen over and they''ll all get covered in dirt and blood.¡±


    ¡°Aryn¨C¡±


    He silenced him by placing his lips against his, their eyes locking before Percy pursued a follow-up kiss. A shy smile spread across the prince¡¯s face.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. I promise. We¡¯ll just hang out at the back of the party and get drunk while everyone else actively endangers their lives for a stupid pig. Please come, for me?¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Percy conceded softly, the concern on his face beginning to melt away as he planted a kiss to Aryn¡¯s palm. ¡°Just don¡¯t blame me if I do something stupid.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll just make it more interesting,¡± he teased playfully, running his hand down to the young man¡¯s shoulder.


    His fingers toyed with the collar of his sweater, tracing them along the top of his collarbone. He glanced upward to meet the man¡¯s emerald eyes, those that had apparently already been intently staring at him. Color rose on his fair cheeks before Percy leaned forward and around to his ear.


    ¡°You¡¯re becoming quite a devious little thing, you know that?¡± he murmured lowly, slinking his arm around his small waist.


    ¡°And whose fault is that?¡± he goaded, tilting his head away slightly.


    A soft breath escaped his lips as Percy gently bit his earlobe.


    ¡°Are you accusing me?¡± he teased, nipping at the prince¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Well I don¡¯t see anyone else in this room touching me in ways he shouldn¡¯t,¡± he purred quietly, letting his hand slide underneath Percy¡¯s sweater up to his chest.


    ¡°In what ways? Like this?¡±


    A firm hand suddenly gripped his backside, causing his breath to catch. The blacksmith¡¯s other hand came to rest around his throat, and he couldn¡¯t help the tightness that was quickly forming low in his stomach. But unexpectedly, an image quickly flashed in his mind: his father¡¯s hand, wrapped around his throat, slamming him against a wall.


    He inhaled sharply and abruptly took a small step back, raising a hand to his neck where Percy¡¯s had been. The man¡¯s emerald eyes shone with immediate concern in the low firelight.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he asked softly, gingerly reaching up and taking Aryn¡¯s hand in his. ¡°Was that too much? I¡¯m sorry¡­ I-I got carried away¨C¡±


    ¡°N-No, you didn¡¯t, really. I liked it I just¡­¡± he struggled to find the right words as his blue eyes scanned the floor.


    ¡°Was it just a little unexpected?¡± Percy surmised softly.


    He glanced up again with furrowed brows, nodding. ¡°I did like it, though.¡±


    The blacksmith pressed his lips together thoughtfully before placing Aryn¡¯s hand gently back to where it had been on his neck, his larger hand resting on top of it as he closed the gap between their bodies. ¡°What about it did you like?¡±


    ¡°It made me feel¡­ I don¡¯t know how to explain it. It sounds strange,¡± he murmured uncertainly, a shy, breathy chuckle escaping his lips.


    Another kiss was placed on his jaw. ¡°Try me.¡±


    He found himself anxiously fidgeting with the sleeve of Percy¡¯s shirt, his eyes darting around the man¡¯s face. ¡°You¡¯ve done a few things recently that, well¡­ I guess I like it when you¡¯re¡­ assertive?¡±


    A loose smile began to form on Percy¡¯s lips as he brushed his thumb over the back of his hand, still resting on his neck.


    ¡°I see. And what have I done that you liked?¡± he asked gently, his tone becoming slightly more sensual as the mood began to shift again.


    ¡°Well, I do enjoy the biting¡­¡± he started shyly.


    The fine hairs rose on his neck as Percy nipped at his ear, tugging on it before brushing his lips over it.


    ¡°What else?¡± he whispered, his muscular arm wrapping around his waist again.


    ¡°I like it when you pick me up, and put me against the wall¡­¡±


    Strong hands gripped the back of his thighs as he was deftly hoisted into the air. He instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around Percy before his back met the wall, and shortly afterwards hungry lips went to work beneath his jaw.  A small noise escaped his mouth as he tangled his hands into the nest of curly brown hair he could never get enough of.


    Percy dragged his lips along his skin to his, sucking and biting on the bottom one in between their tongues dancing. Quickly his skin began to grow hot, and he balled the hem of Percy¡¯s sweater in his hands. Suddenly his feet were touching the ground as the article of clothing came flying off, and his own shirt followed immediately after. He was pressed back up against the wall as Percy gripped his chin with one hand and his behind with another, their lips colliding. A primal desire began to well up inside him, and all he could think of was more, more, more...


    ¡°The bed,¡± he whispered breathlessly.


    Percy hoisted him up onto his hips with ease and carried him through another door, as if he was a ragdoll, before firmly placing him down onto the featherbed, situating himself between his legs. His strong, calloused hands worked their way up his sides as Percy trailed his lips from his stomach to his chest before finally meeting his once more. His loins began to ache, and his breeches felt incredibly too tight.


    As if reading his mind, Percy reached a hand down to start loosening the laces of his pants. The mere touch through the thick fabric was enough to rend a moan from deep within his throat. He could feel Percy¡¯s muscles tighten at the noise, could feel his fingers working faster.


    Finally the laces had loosened enough, and he found himself completely undone as Percy firmly grasped him. His breath shuddered as he pushed his hips into his hand, tangling his fingers in that mop of brown hair. But as soon as he had started, Percy withdrew his hand and slid it up his body, coming to rest at the root of his neck.


    ¡°I want you to do it,¡± he murmured lowly, their lips brushing. ¡°I want you to touch yourself for me.¡±


    A ragged breath escaped his mouth as a deep, pulsing ache shot through him. He lifted his eyes to meet blue with emerald as he slowly slid his own hand downward. They had never done something like this, and strangely he found it felt significantly more vulnerable. He supposed it was because he had never shared that side of himself with Percy before, that type of self-intimacy that came with such an act.  Perhaps that¡¯s exactly why he craved for Aryn to do it.


    Slowly, he began to work. His heart pounded within his chest as fingers tangled in his feathery hair, and he gasped softly as suddenly his head was pulled back. His neck left vulnerable, teeth met the skin of his throat, eliciting a small noise from his mouth. A heat quickly grew on his face; there was always something about the way that Percy touched him once things advanced to¡­ well, this. There was a dominance to it that excited him in a strange way, as if he relished in the thought that he wasn¡¯t in control.


    The first few times he hadn¡¯t understood exactly why it was so enticing to him; he absolutely hated not being in control. He despised all those moments when his father had to only look at him to render his own will obsolete. He despised when his brother ordained that his priorities were more important, and thus turned him into no more than a captive parrot to squawk forced, rehearsed praises and agreement. He despised when he could do nothing while his mother wasted away on her sickbed¡­


    Constantly these thoughts had run through his mind, and constantly Percy had been patient with him. But then one night it clicked. He didn¡¯t enjoy not having control. No, he revelled in being able to let go. In being able to love and be loved the way he wanted, and always feeling safe, always having control in the end.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking¡­¡±


    A low, alluring voice pulled him back to reality as he realized his hand had halted. Percy had made his way down to his hips and been gently toying with them, a soft red mark slowly growing on his skin. But now, deep emerald eyes glanced up at him, reading the look on his face like a wide-open book.


    He couldn¡¯t help the shy smile that made its way onto his lips as he let out a soft sigh.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he breathed sheepishly, running a hand through thick brown curls.


    Percy placed a soft kiss on the mark. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be sorry. What is it?¡±


    ¡°I was just thinking¡­¡± he paused, biting his lip. ¡°That you haven¡¯t drawn me yet.¡±


    The blacksmith raised his eyebrows as a curious smirk formed on his tan face. ¡°You want me to draw you?¡±


    ¡°Well I figured you did but were just too shy to ask, so you¡¯re welcome,¡± he retorted playfully, twisting one of the curls in his fingers.


    Percy chuckled softly, his smirk growing into a smile before he slid off the bed. The muscles of his legs moved tightly beneath his breeches as he strode over to a small desk and pulled the new sketchbook out of its drawer. Only purchased a couple of months ago, it was already beginning to show some wear and tear, the leather starting to dull in the places it was held the most. The blacksmith dragged a creaky wooden chair across the room and faced the back of it towards Aryn as he swiftly plopped down.


    ¡°How would you like me to draw you, Your Highness?¡± he prompted teasingly.


    He bit his lip in thought as his blue eyes quickly glanced around the room, landing on a book on the nightstand. He snatched it and opened it up, beginning to peruse the pages. Ashen locks fell slightly in front of his face, framing it, as he sat cross-legged on the bed. With no response of approval, he finally looked up from the tome to catch Percy resisting a grin.


    ¡°What? I figured it¡¯d be pretty awkward if I just stared at you the whole time,¡± he mused.


    ¡°No, I love it. It¡¯s perfectly¡­ you,¡± Percy explained softly, his emerald eyes flickering with adoration.


    And so he began to draw.

 Ten

    They were absolutely going to be late.


    The two had spent the better part of the night talking and laughing and drawing. The sun had already risen by the time Percy awoke, and from what Aryn had told him last night, the hunting party was supposed to set out pretty early. So he had jostled the prince awake, and they both had dressed in a panic. Not panicked enough for Aryn to forget his new cloak clasp though. As they rushed through the streets of the middle circle and past the inner circle gates, the silver caught the daylight, shining magnificently.


    He didn¡¯t know what he had expected the castle to look like, but for some reason he was still struck with awe. Several stories tall and made of beautiful light grey stone, it was like a beacon in the hazy cold morning sky. The streets were oddly busy for the current temperatures, but he suspected it was due to the upcoming royal wedding everybody couldn¡¯t shut up about. Finally they reached the castle gates and hurried into the front courtyard, which was bustling with all manner of guards, servants, and noblemen. Horses and carts moved to and fro, some more lazily than others. It was overwhelming.


    A rather large crowd was gathered closest to the castle entrance: all men, most on horses, sporting all manner of swords and crossbows. Thankfully Aryn hadn¡¯t lied, somewhat. All of them either had on thick coats or fur-lined cloaks; not a ridiculously fanciful outfit in sight. He had thrown on his only nice coat, a rich dark grey lined with fur that his father had gotten him as a Christmas present last year when business had been particularly good. It was the only present he had gotten.


    He quickly observed the other men present, attempting to discern their societal stations. Two of them were easy, as they both wore crowns, albeit of different shape and size. The younger one with the dark brown hair and eyes had to be Prince Philip. The other was unmistakable, regardless of having laid eyes on him before or not. A mountain of a man, not yet withered by age, with dark brown hair streaked with grey. His eyes were also brown, like Philip¡¯s, but there was a coldness to them, dare he say a certain ruthlessness. The back of his neck grew hot as he remembered how Aryn had reacted last night.


    The younger prince took the lead in escorting them over towards the hunting party, mindful to keep a normal distance between the two. They were friends today, he had to remind himself. Male friends at that. It was time to put his physical aesthetics to good use.


    ¡°Ah, Aryn!¡±


    Prince Philip called out cheerily, opening a hand towards his younger brother. Everyone else turned in greeting, but their faces quickly shifted as they laid eyes upon the stranger he had brought into their midst. He pulled his shoulders back and held his chin a bit taller in response.


    ¡°We were wondering if you¡¯d be coming,¡± he continued, his breath frosting in the air.


    ¡°My apologies, Brother. I had to stop for breakfast; can¡¯t so much as hunt on an empty stomach out in this cold,¡± he lied coolly.


    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s quite all right. Most of my friends had only arrived a few moments ago as well, many hungover from the festivities last night, I might add,¡± he quipped as he glanced back at the hunting party.


    A group of younger gentlemen all began to laugh and chatter, nodding and pointing and elbowing one another. All but one of them, which was staring at him a bit more intently than the others had. His amber eyes stuck out starkly against the snow, and Percy felt his muscles tighten up as an unreadable smirk tugged at the edge of the man¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Aryn.¡±


    The voice was the embodiment of command, of control. The rest of the hunting party immediately quieted as the King spoke.


    ¡°Go have the stableboys fetch your horse, and one for your¡­ friend here as well. Do it quickly; we were supposed to set out nearly half-hour ago.¡±


    The young prince simply bowed his head and turned on his heel towards the stables, motioning for Percy to stay. His heart leapt into his throat as he was now left alone with a pack of nobles to ogle at him. He cleared his throat and bowed deeply, a tight smile on his face.


    ¡°Your Grace, Your Highness. It is an honor to be joining you today to celebrate the upcoming¡­ nuptials.¡±


    A handsome smile blossomed on Philip¡¯s face. ¡°Thank you, sir. I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve had the pleasure?..¡±


    ¡°Percy, Your Highness. Percy Lancaster.¡±


    The prince furrowed his brow. ¡°Curious, I¡¯ve never heard of your family name before. Where do you hail from?¡±


    ¡°Oh, here, Your Highness. My father owns and runs the best smithy in the city,¡± he said proudly, folding his hands behind his back. ¡°We¡¯ve been the main supplier of weapons to your fine Crownsguard for years now. I train under my father.¡±


    The other men began to murmur and chortle amongst themselves, their faces shifting towards confused amusement. He felt his face begin to flush and that same heat return to the nape of his neck.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re lowborn then?¡±


    He smiled tersely at the prince, blinking. ¡°Correct, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met a more well-mannered commoner in my life,¡± he mused as he shifted in his saddle, stirring another bout of chuckling from the other noblemen.


    ¡°Forgive me, Your Highness, but I find it hard to believe you¡¯ve met many commoners at all.¡±


    The party grew quiet and stirred slightly with discomfort. He did not remove his eyes from the elder prince¡¯s, emerald irises brimming with challenge beneath a polite mask. Rich brown ones met his with intrigue, albeit mixed with the insufferable pompousness of royalty.


    Hooves clicking on cobblestone suddenly dispersed the tension building in the cold winter air as Aryn returned, accompanied by a stableboy who held the reins of two horses. One was a beautiful white Arabian, dapplings of grey flecking its legs. The other was a larger horse, thoroughbred most likely, of a deep brown almost black coloration. He could guess which was whose.


    ¡°Here you are, sir,¡± the stableboy said meekly, handing him the reins to the strong thoroughbred.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he replied with a smile.


    The hunting party sniggered beneath their breaths, and color rose on his face as Aryn took the reins from the boy without a word. He forgot that entitlement was custom in this world.


    ¡°We must get you a weapon, Percy,¡± Philip continued. ¡°Surely you plan on participating.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not very experienced with hunting, Your Highness¨C¡±


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± he butted in, hopping off his horse to stride over to a large wooden table strewn with all manner of implements. ¡°A strong man like yourself would be a natural, I¡¯m sure. All that time slaving over a forge, surely you could string a crossbow.¡±


    He knew it was meant as an insult, but he smiled anyway. ¡°But of course, Your Highness. Whichever you think would be best, I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    Philip snatched a heavy crossbow from the table, equipped with a backstrap, and walked it over to him. ¡°See how that suits you.¡±


    He took it in his hands, surprised at the weight of it. Nonetheless, it was still manageable. After testing the weight, he slung it around his back and nodded towards the prince.


    ¡°It¡¯s hefty I know,¡± he started as he climbed gracefully back on his horse. ¡°But hefty is what you need against boars. So! Shall we be off?¡±


    Aryn swung himself onto his horse without a word, waiting for Percy to do the same. So he did, although much less gracefully. He didn¡¯t have much experience riding, but he had been taught once. Situating himself on the beautiful thoroughbred he had no right to be riding, he could feel the King¡¯s eyes burning into him.


    God, and this is how Aryn feels every goddamn day¡­


    The hunting party set out, the King and Prince Philip in the lead as he and Aryn stayed in the back. Thankfully there was no snow falling today, or else this hunt might have proved to be even more miserable than already promised. Seeing as they weren¡¯t into the woods yet, the party ahead was loud and boisterous, continuing to drink even though they clearly had gotten their fill last night. He supposed it was a good thing for them all to be distracted with each other and not himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about my brother. He means well, but he can sure be quite the idiot,¡± Aryn murmured from beside him.


    He couldn¡¯t help the smile that grew on his face as they clopped along. ¡°He¡¯s a prince. It¡¯s nothing I wasn¡¯t expecting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a prince,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°Yes, well, you¡¯re quite a different prince than he is, now aren¡¯t you?¡± he retorted, raising his eyebrows at the ashen-haired boy.


    ¡°Aryn!¡± a voice called from up at the front of the party.


    They both glanced up to see Philip trotting towards them. ¡°Come join me for a moment, would you? I¡¯d like to spend some time with my brother.¡±


    He could read the forced smile that made its way to the younger prince¡¯s face. But he could also tell that a small part of it was genuine. It was easy to believe that Aryn didn¡¯t completely despise his brother. He sensed there was a part of the crown prince that did try.


    ¡°Of course, Philip,¡± he replied dutifully.


    Blue eyes met his apologetically before the young prince trotted off with the elder, leaving him to his own devices. They had begun to reach the border of the large forest situated just outside the city, the landscape now becoming dotted with tall, thick trees and bushes. It was rather peaceful out here. He remembered coming here as a boy and playing in the hot spring that graced a small clearing within its tangle of branches. Perhaps he would show Aryn once the world grew warmer.


    ¡°Enjoying the hunt so far?¡±


    He was drawn from his thoughts as the man with amber eyes he spotted earlier sidled up next to him on his own horse. It was hard to hide the skeptical furrow beginning to scrunch his brow.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too sure this qualifies as a hunt yet, seeing as there has been no hunting,¡± he replied smartly, attempting to joke with the nobleman.


    The man chuckled softly. ¡°You¡¯re funny. I can see why Aryn fancies you.¡±


    His heart sank to his stomach.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean,¡± he stated dismissively. ¡°The Prince is my friend. He¡¯s been working with my father to create more trade between our business and the Crown.¡±


    ¡°Oh I don¡¯t doubt that. And staying the night at your home, is that also business?¡±


    ¡°You mean to tell me you would send Prince Aryn Stewart out into the middle circle at night to find his way back home, alone? He shared dinner with my family and decided to stay.¡±


    ¡°Last I heard your father was out of town¨C¡±


    He whirled towards the man in his saddle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, is there something you¡¯re trying to get at, Lord?..¡±


    ¡°Oliver Farrington. And no Lord; that title still resides with my father,¡± he said coolly.


    ¡°My apologies, just Oliver Farrington. Are you insinuating that the prince is a deviant?¡± he bristled defensively.


    ¡°You said it, not me.¡±


    ¡°Well maybe I could tell the King what you think of his son. I¡¯m sure a man as forgiving as King Aleksander wouldn¡¯t silence you forever for spreading such rumours.¡±


    Suddenly, the man began to laugh. He laughed so heartily that he had to place a hand on his chest to catch his breath. It infuriated him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Oh man. Percy, right? You really do live up to expectations.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck are you going on about?¡± he pressed impatiently.


    ¡°Keep your voice down, it¡¯s all right. Look, I know about you and Aryn,¡± he explained quietly. ¡°I knew before you even did.¡±


    Suddenly it all clicked.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± he murmured lowly, tanned face turning red.


    ¡°Oh, no apology necessary. I should be apologizing. I simply wanted to test you.¡±


    ¡°Well? Did I pass?¡± he questioned playfully.


    ¡°Very much so,¡± Oliver replied with a smirk. ¡°And don¡¯t worry. As devastatingly beautiful as the prince is, you¡¯ll find no competition from me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a relief. God knows a poor little blacksmith boy like me wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against a ravishing nobleman such as yourself,¡± he teased.


    They both laughed.


    He caught Aryn glancing back in their direction, and took note of his fair cheeks flushing pink. He subtly nodded in reassurance.


    ¡°I have been looking forward to meeting you,¡± Oliver continued, their horses strolling along the trampled forest path as more distance grew between them and the party. ¡°From what Aryn has told me, you¡¯re quite the impressive man.¡±


    ¡°And from what Aryn has briefly told me about you, I should thank you,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Although it does feel strange, thanking a man who had previous¡­ relations with my partner.¡±


    Oliver chuckled softly. ¡°Well, with the way we are, nothing is ever not strange. I¡¯m just glad I happened upon the prince. Otherwise who knows? You two might have been doomed to stare at each other longingly for eternity,¡± he jested.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    It was Percy¡¯s turn to laugh.


    ¡°So, Oliver. Will you be staying in the city long?¡±


    ¡°I believe so. My father has hinted that he wishes for me to stay with my sister here at court. She is so innocent, you see. Not fit for the dirty underbelly of politics. He expects me to protect her, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to remain here at court?¡± he pressed.


    Amber met emerald as the two locked gazes. ¡°At first I didn¡¯t, no. But now I think I might.¡±


    A smile twitched at the corner of his lips, a certain silent understanding passing over the two of them.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure Aryn would love it if you stayed. Lord knows he needs more friends. It pains me sometimes just how lonely he is,¡± he stated softly, staring towards the prince.


    ¡°Me as well. And his father, the King¡­ he hasn¡¯t been able to secure the throne and continue to wage a successful territory war for this long without cause. Aryn¡¯s heart is far too gentle for that man.¡±


    ¡°He angers me,¡± Percy declared quietly, unable to hide the rage in his voice.


    Oliver glanced back over at him pensively. ¡°Understandably so.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes Aryn cowers from me. It constantly seems as if he¡¯s stepping on eggshells, even with me, when I¡¯ve given him zero reason to. The only explanation I can find for that is him.¡±


    ¡°I cannot claim to know exactly what goes on between the King and his younger son, but I do know that Aryn fears him. Genuinely fears him. As do many others,¡± the nobleman explained.


    ¡°What kind of a king rules with fear?¡± he mused bitterly.


    Amber eyes looked at him with intensity. ¡°Unfortunately, a rather successful one.¡±


    ¡°Do you think the King harms him?¡±


    ¡°I think you can answer that question quite readily yourself, Mr. Lancaster,¡± Oliver muttered darkly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t expect that Prince Philip does much to stop it,¡± he added, green eyes boring into the back of the man¡¯s crowned skull.


    The nobleman sighed. ¡°As if he could do much in the first place. His father clearly favors him, so why give him cause not to? As handsomely dumb as His Highness seems, he¡¯s smart enough not to endanger his right to the throne.¡±


    ¡°But the situation should not exist in the first place,¡± Percy butted in frustratedly. ¡°I simply cannot understand why a father would hate his son if he has done nothing egregiously wrong.¡±


    ¡°That is because you live in a different world than them, Percy,¡± Oliver said softly. ¡°You exist in a realm where good character and good morals raise a man up in society. They exist in a realm that values three things: power, wealth, and perfection. Anything that stands against those things is seen as a slight, a weakness. And weakness destroys legacies.¡±


    ¡°You exist in that realm, too,¡± he pointed out, looking over at the nobleman.


    Oliver scoffed. ¡°Only due to the random circumstance of birth. My values align with the world you live in, I assure you. My personal life has been closely intertwined with noblemen and commoners alike, and I can tell you without a doubt that I much prefer the company of the latter.¡±


    ¡°And here I thought all you nobles were alike,¡± he jested.


    ¡°If that were true, you wouldn¡¯t love Aryn as you do.¡±


    The blacksmith¡¯s face flushed with heat as he quickly turned his gaze back towards the party riding ahead of them. A crisp winter breeze rattled the bare branches as dead leaves stirred on the forest floor, flinging a few loose curls across his face.


    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± he murmured beneath the wind.


    A gentle smile grew over the nobleman¡¯s face. ¡°Glaringly so, at least to me. And the way that boy talks about you,¡± he chuckled. ¡°I would dare say the feeling is very mutual.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just so¡­ sensitive. I don¡¯t want to scare him or make him feel as if he must proclaim he feels similarly. He¡¯s been through enough, with the late Queen, God rest her soul, and the rest of his issues with his family. He thinks so lowly of himself. I don¡¯t wish to be another source through which he comes to doubt himself further,¡± he stated softly through the quiet rustling of brown leaves.


    ¡°Remember the last time one of you hesitated to make your feelings clear?¡± Oliver prompted with raised eyebrows.


    He sighed defeatedly, conflicted. ¡°I will, eventually. I just feel it¡¯s too soon. I think he likes that things have been slow with us. It¡¯s given him the space to understand himself, to understand us. And truth be told, I¡¯ve liked it too.¡±


    ¡°Were you ever with any girls before you realized how you are?¡± the nobleman questioned.


    Percy gave him a hesitant look and pressed his lips together, shrugging. ¡°I mean, technically. I was a teenage boy. I¡¯ve never properly been with someone, but I did¡­ mess around. It didn¡¯t excite me very much, but I¡¯d always had older men tell me it wasn¡¯t all that it was chalked up to be, so I thought that was normal. And the girls always seemed quite pleased¡­¡±


    Oliver snorted and covered his mouth, which earned a harsh look from the blacksmith.


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying,¡± he defended, unable to help laughing a bit as well.


    ¡°Oh no, I didn¡¯t think you were. I¡¯m just not surprised, is all. Aryn always tends to get a bit flustered talking about you. I figured you maybe had some experience under your belt, no pun intended,¡± he said slyly.


    Percy rolled his eyes and playfully shoved the nobleman in his saddle. For a split moment, dread settled in his broad chest. He had shoved a nobleman¡­ but Oliver didn¡¯t hesitate to reach over and shove him back, a boyish grin on his face.


    ¡°I take it you two are getting along.¡±


    He looked forward to spot Aryn trotting in their direction, his ashen hair tossed by the freezing wind. His nose and ears were flushed from the cold, and a canteen wrapped in fine leather now hung from his hip. At this point they were deep into the woods, the path turning from a proper dirt road into more of a makeshift trail, disappearing and reappearing at times.


    ¡°I was just telling Oliver about how easily I could kick his pampered arse in a fight,¡± he joked.


    ¡°As if,¡± the nobleman shot back playfully.


    ¡°I¡¯d be careful if I were you, Percy. Oliver actually does fight,¡± the prince elaborated with a smirk, turning his horse around to ride on his left.


    He furrowed his brow skeptically, glancing back over at the nobleman. The chap sure was full of surprises.


    ¡°Really? How so?¡± he questioned curiously.


    ¡°Why the good old-fashioned way, with fists. And an occasional kick to spice things up,¡± Oliver stated smugly.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite the interesting man, Oliver Farrington,¡± he concluded with a raised eyebrow.


    Aryn handed him the canteen. ¡°Here. I told you we were getting drunk.¡±


    He removed the cap and took a cautious swig. It tasted like really good wine, but if the wine was on fire. It burned the whole way down his throat and into his stomach. He could hear Oliver snicker beside him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t poison the poor man, Aryn,¡± the nobleman begged playfully before holding his hand out, silently asking for the container.


    He handed it to him more than willingly as he turned to Aryn. ¡°What is that?¡± he asked, his voice raspy from the bite of the alcohol.


    ¡°Fortified wine,¡± the prince explained with a devious smirk. ¡°Philip had one of his friends bring some. It has brandy in it. Very good, very strong brandy.¡±


    He then noticed that Aryn¡¯s cheeks were flushed more than usual, excessively so if it were only from the cold, and chuckled. ¡°I see you got a head start.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to say no when Philip offered it to me. Besides, the few times we¡¯ve genuinely enjoyed each other¡¯s company were when we were¡­ well, rather incapacitated. Strong wine tends to help take that stick out of his ass,¡± he rambled on.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll have better luck talking to him about some things for the wedding now then,¡± Oliver pointed out, handing the canteen back to Percy. ¡°I¡¯ll let you two enjoy yourselves. See you in a bit.¡±


    He clicked his horse on, and the soft clop of hooves on dirt quickened as the nobleman picked up pace to reunite with the rest of the hunting party. Once he was out of earshot, he turned to look at Aryn. His ashen hair had become slightly windswept, and his poor nose was turning red from the cold.


    It was a bit amusing how unadapted the prince was to adverse weather, not having to labor outside or even go without a fire in the house. Of course he knew how lucky he was as well, even for a commoner. He could only remember a handful of times his family had to go without logs in the fireplace, and that was when he was very young. Ever since he and Jory were old enough to help in the forge, their family had thankfully remained comfortably provided for due to the extra help and surge of business from the war that had started.


    He watched as Aryn took in the frozen forest, quiet wonder on his fair face in spite of the chill. It was easy to appreciate how beautifully still the world was when you didn¡¯t have to face the terrifying reality of winter. As the prince readjusted his cloak, he couldn¡¯t help but think about all the people he¡¯d seen frozen to death in alleyways.


    ¡°You all right?¡±


    He blinked and glanced up to meet blue eyes. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. It¡¯s just interesting seeing the differences between your world and mine.¡±


    The prince furrowed his brow with a tilt of his head. ¡°What have you noticed?¡±


    ¡°I love that you¡¯re finding beauty in this weather, but that¡¯s a luxury the vast majority of people can¡¯t afford, you know?¡± he pointed out gently.


    He saw Aryn¡¯s face drop as the prince began anxiously petting the neck of his horse.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think about that¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I don¡¯t want you to feel guilty. It was just something I found myself thinking about,¡± he explained hurriedly, a sense of guilt creeping into his own chest.


    ¡°But you¡¯re right. And it isn¡¯t fair. Some of the people on my father¡¯s council have been talking about things like that, and I know that the war has created more disparity among the common people. Take for instance, your family. I¡¯m sure the war has provided you with more income, more safety and stability. But for others, resources have been drained. Like the farmers. So much of their crop is being shipped to the borders, which makes produce more expensive here and harder to come by. So then only people like your family can put food on the table every night. I know many taverns have gone out of business because people don¡¯t have the luxury of being able to afford going out, or even taking a night off. It¡¯s just¡­ not fair.¡±


    He was taken aback for a moment, watching the prince as he got more and more animated. His heart stirred.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were so aware of what¡¯s going on¨C¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m aware; it¡¯s my duty. I am a prince, and a prince is supposed to help care for his people. But the minute I try to get closer so I can truly understand what the common folk are going through or how they feel, I¡¯m told I am being childish, trying to be rebellious, shaming our family. It¡¯s all horseshit. I feel like I¡¯m the only one in my family who actually cares about our people, and it¡¯s infuriating that I am not even allowed to act upon it.¡±


    A sad smile grew on his face as he watched Aryn¡¯s chest heave with a frustrated sigh. ¡°I could try to help with that. You have an asset that I¡¯m certain no one else with nobility has: me. I know you, truly know you. Maybe you could work through me, to help my people.¡±


    ¡°Percy don¡¯t be foolish. I know it¡¯s a lost cause; the common folk despise my family. My father more specifically. They wouldn¡¯t accept my help. It¡¯s my family that put them where they are now,¡± Aryn grumbled, twisting a piece of his horse¡¯s hair in his fingers.


    ¡°That¡¯s why we have to show them that you¡¯re different. If the common people can come to know you, I¡¯m certain they would trust you and accept your help.¡±


    ¡°But how am I supposed to help? Even if I was able to gain their trust, my father will not give me the time of day¨C¡±


    ¡°He might if you show strength, if you stick up for yourself and what you believe. Now I don¡¯t know the King very well, but I surmise that he looks down on you because of your gentle nature. To get him to listen to you, you have to play his game, Aryn. I know you don¡¯t like it, but that¡¯s how you¡¯re going to get things done.¡±


    The prince was silent for a moment, staring between his horse¡¯s perked ears. ¡°Okay. You¡¯re right.¡±


    Percy reached over and handed the prince the canteen.


    ¡°You¡¯re stronger than you think you are, my love.¡±


    Blue eyes connected with his, and a different kind of pink rose on the prince¡¯s cheeks as he gingerly took the container from him, gloved hands touching.


    Aryn dropped it accidentally as his horse suddenly stirred, ears anxiously twitching and rotating as it began knickering and backing up.


    ¡°Shh, hey¡­ it¡¯s okay. What is it, Dancer?¡± the prince murmured softly, rubbing the Arabian''s neck in an attempt to calm the beast.


    Now his own horse halted, standing stock still as its ears mimicked Dancer¡¯s. The quiet rattle of branches sounded nearby, and everyone¡¯s heads turned quickly. A strange dread started to make its way into his chest, the hairs on his arms and neck standing on edge, and some unconscious instinct told him to slowly unsling the crossbow from around his back. He wasn¡¯t breathing as he strained to set the bolt, and his stomach clenched as a resounding clunk sounded from the weapon as it locked into place.


    ¡°We found something!¡±


    Someone shouted up ahead. He and Aryn both turned their attention towards the hunting party as they had picked up speed. The baying of hounds rang out in the cold air as the dogs were released. Percy felt his shoulders drop from his ears as he finally breathed.


    Aryn turned to him and let out a chuckle of relief. ¡°Well that was¨C¡±


    A monstrous squeal, almost like a guttural scream, pierced through the trees from their right as twigs and brush snapped underfoot. The horses stirred again, this time far more severely. His heart kicked up as emerald eyes scanned the treeline wildly, searching for movement.


    ¡®Percy¡­¡± Aryn called out fearfully, glancing back and forth between him and where his eyes were scanning.


    Too quickly to form a reaction, a hulking form came barreling out from the bushes, and his horse screamed and reared before bolting out from under him. His back hit the ground with a dense, harsh thud as suddenly his chest felt as if it had imploded. Air would not enter his lungs, and before he could attempt to catch his breath, a horrible pain shot through his left ankle.


    He was whipped across the forest floor as his foot caught in the stirrup, barely managing to keep ahold of the crossbow. But his ankle twisted even more, and a shock of panic reverberated through him. Mind racing, he decided to release the weapon and strained to sit up, his back getting raked with all manner of twigs and small rocks. It was nearly impossible to focus through the pain. Deft hands fumbled with the stirrup, and with one last push of strength, he pulled himself up off the ground just enough to make the leather strap lax. His foot yanked free before he crashed back to the ground, tumbling and rolling. Something bashed against his lip; whether it was a rock or his own teeth, he wasn¡¯t sure.


    Finally his body came to a harsh stop. Gasping, he struggled to his hands and knees as the world swam. Everything sounded foggy, drowned out by the ringing that slowly crescendoed in his ears. He lifted his head in an attempt to ascertain his surroundings. Several yards ahead of him, he watched as a white and grey colored shape quickly grew smaller. He saw something else that looked like a dark blue puddle on the ground, beginning to stir. Something angular and brown lay in the snow a few yards away. Hounds bayed. Men shouted. He couldn¡¯t tell what they were saying.


    Branches snapped to his left, and he turned his head just fast enough to see a massive brown shape charging in his direction. He jumped to the side clumsily, but not fast enough to fully avoid the monster coming at him. His right arm was set on fire as tusks tore through flesh, and he screamed. Something warm and wet quickly spread across his skin, dripping onto his hand.


    Suddenly the world became oddly clear, almost slow. The creature was turning around as hounds came sprinting towards it, right towards Aryn. His ankle cried with protest as he forced himself to his feet and threw himself towards the crossbow. Trembling hands grasped the weapon as he fell to his knee, his joint refusing to bear any more weight.


    The boar shrieked and tore towards the prince, blinded by rage as several arrows stuck out of its hide. His breath rattled in his lungs as he struggled to lift the crossbow, arm screaming through every movement. But as the beast grew closer, the pain seemed to disappear. The world went quiet as he took aim, his hands steadied, and pulled the release.


    The boar went scattering across the forest floor without a sound, but not without tumbling into Aryn. The puddle of dark blue now lay covered by brown and red, and he whimpered again as he tried to step on his ankle, practically falling the whole way towards him.


    But a band of people arrived first, several jumping off their horses and getting their hands beneath the beast. They lifted and carelessly tossed the animal to the side, and now a circle of backs blocked his view from the prince.


    ¡°Aryn,¡± he called out hoarsely, spitting up dirt and blood from a busted lip. His voice was concerningly weak. ¡°Aryn!¡±


    If the prince had replied, he couldn¡¯t hear it over the shouting and yelling of the rest of the men. So he pushed himself to his feet with the crossbow and attempted to limp the rest of the way. A horrible sense of dread and panic welled within his chest as he collapsed again, traveling no more than a few feet. All he could do was crawl.


    ¡°Everyone give him some space, now,¡± a familiar voice demanded over the hum of chaos.


    The crowd parted to reveal Oliver pushing his way through, quickly kneeling beside the prince and tearing off his glove. He placed his fingers on the side of his neck beneath his chin before leaning in close, his ear by the prince¡¯s mouth. The party went completely silent as the King galloped towards them on his horse, dismounting quickly.


    ¡°What in God¡¯s name happened?¡± he shouted, storming over to where his son lay on the ground.


    Oliver pulled the prince¡¯s eyelids upward one at a time. ¡°He¡¯s okay, I think. The boar fell into him and must have knocked him unconscious.¡±


    Philip now appeared beside his little brother, dirt on his face. ¡°Aryn? Aryn you need to wake up.¡±


    Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the two men attempted to stir the younger prince. A few painfully slow moments went by.


    Aryn groaned and blinked heavily, sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to sit up.


    ¡°What hurts?¡± Oliver asked quickly.


    ¡°My ribs,¡± the prince stated through clenched teeth.


    ¡°Do you think you can stand?¡± Philip asked worriedly.


    ¡°I can try.¡±


    With both arms supported, the prince managed to painstakingly get on his feet. Percy felt a sense of immense relief wash over him before his vision darkened slightly. He caught sight of Aryn¡¯s face as the look of pain was wiped away to reveal sheer panic.


    ¡°Percy!¡± he heard him shout underwater.


    He just barely saw Oliver mouth ¡®oh fuck¡¯ before everything went black.

 Eleven

    The day had crawled by in a blur. His thoughts were not with himself, but with Percy. He couldn¡¯t even presently focus enough to be bothered by the pain when Maester Byron wrapped his ribs. Only bruised, he had said, albeit pretty severely. That was all he had cared to hear before gluing himself to the young man¡¯s bedside.


    His lip was busted, back scraped to Hell, ankle swollen and purple. He didn¡¯t want to think about what the giant gash on his arm had looked like earlier¡­


    This is all my fault.


    He shouldn¡¯t have pushed Percy to join him today. It was selfish. He knew he wouldn¡¯t fit in, wouldn¡¯t feel comfortable, but his own comfort had taken priority. It always did¡­ the blacksmith would never protest to something when he knew it would make him happy. He had toiled silently, on his own, just to get him a gift. Just to make him happy. Over the past weeks, Percy was always checking on him, making sure that he was okay, that he was eating enough, that his nightmares hadn¡¯t come back, that everything was all right at home. It was always about Aryn Stewart.


    And now he was horribly injured because of Aryn Stewart.


    All because he wanted to make me happy¡­


    ¡°Aryn.¡±


    He started and turned to face his brother, of all the people. ¡°Philip¡­ Are the horses okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they found them both. Dancer is fine,¡± he added.


    A tense silence filled the air as he faced back towards Percy, his throat closing up. The faint howling of icy wind could be heard whistling across the castle¡¯s stones.


    ¡°The maester says he should be okay. If anything, he might lose a little strength in his arm¨C¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a blacksmith, Philip,¡± he murmured angrily, overwhelming guilt swelling within his chest.


    ¡°It was an accident, Aryn¡­¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have asked him to come,¡± he said in a near whisper, shaking his head. ¡°It was stupid, and selfish. All I wanted was to have a friend around¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m around,¡± Philip argued.


    He whirled on him, tears brimming in his eyes. ¡°Are you? You¡¯ve never supported what I¡¯ve wanted¨C¡±


    ¡°Oh for Christ¡¯s sake Aryn and what is it you¡¯ve wanted?¡± he spat patronizingly.


    ¡°A brother that cares for me!¡± he shouted back, voice cracking. ¡°A brother who¡¯s interested in more than just securing his ascension to the throne. Or how about a father that doesn¡¯t despise me because I¡¯m not you. Maybe a father that doesn¡¯t try to beat Mum out of me¨C¡±


    ¡°Please, Father only ever beat you when you were being an insolent little child,¡± he dismissed. ¡°Just like you are right now.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± he hissed. ¡°Because the last time I remember his fists on me, I certainly was not small.¡±


    Philip paused.


    ¡°What cause would Father have to beat his grown son?¡± he interrogated doubtingly.


    ¡°Maybe you should ask him,¡± he spat, locking eyes with his brother.


    Blue irises burned with anger, with pain, as brown eyes on the other end flickered with uncertainty. Aryn broke his gaze and turned back towards Percy.


    ¡°Sorry I ruined your wedding hunt,¡± he mumbled dismissively, finality in his voice.


    He didn¡¯t turn back as the door slammed shut, even as it caused him to flinch. His mind raced, churning through one thought over and over again.


    He might not be able to smith anymore.


    What could he do? There had to be something, a solution. There was no way in Hell he would go back to Percy¡¯s family and tell them their son was useless now, maimed. If he couldn¡¯t smith, he still needed a purpose. A place in society, and a good one.


    He bolted upright in his chair as realization struck him. A fire began to spark within him, and he pushed himself out of the chair and hobbled through the door, heading towards the King¡¯s chambers.


    Knuckles rapped assertively on the large oak door as he braced himself against the wall, ribs shouting at him. A few moments passed before a bolt clunked from the other side and the door swung open.


    His father was almost a good six inches taller than him, even more so now that he couldn¡¯t sit up straight. Although he had retired for the evening, he was still dressed in fine clothes. His sizable crown sat atop its cushion on a grand dresser made of dark mahogany. Many a time when he was younger he had found himself looking at it, wondering just how heavy it was.


    ¡°Aryn. You should be resting.¡±


    ¡°I know. But I need to speak with you, Father,¡± he murmured quietly, not yet finding courage in his voice.


    Cold eyes looked him up and down before the King retreated into his chambers, silently inviting him in. A fire was crackling in the ornate fireplace carved from dark grey stone, and two plush chairs sat beside it. He motioned for Aryn to sit.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The prince limped in that direction and gratefully plopped down, grunting slightly in pain as his rib cage shifted. The King made his way to his seat, far more gracefully lowering himself onto the cushions.


    ¡°Is the boy all right?¡± Aleksander asked. Aryn knew every word was forced.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I wanted to talk to you about,¡± he started, earning a skeptical look. ¡°His arm is¡­ severely injured. It is likely he may never work as a blacksmith again, providing for his family.¡±


    ¡°Well that is extremely unfortunate news. I knew he had promise.¡±


    He pressed his lips together anxiously.


    ¡°Father, the common folk¡­ well, they share no love for you. For us. Especially because of this war¨C¡±


    ¡°Do they not know I fight this war to gain more land, more resources for them?¡± he countered forcefully.


    ¡°Some, yes. But most do not, no. At any rate, our people are unhappy, Father.¡±


    ¡°And how do you know this? From your friend, the blacksmith boy?¡± he patronized.


    He felt his face beginning to flush hot, but he bit back his emotions.


    ¡°Yes. And I¡¯m telling you¨C¡±


    The King turned in his chair, a look in his eyes that he had come to know, and fear, too well. ¡°You do not tell me anything, Son. I may be your father, but I am also your King. You may inform me, you may advise me, you may notify me, but you do not tell me. Is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father¡­¡± he shrank slightly in his chair, heart racing, as he quickly turned his gaze to the fireplace. ¡°I just wished to inform you that I believe if we do not start to put more attention towards the common people, then this kingdom that you¡¯ve built will begin to fall apart.¡±


    ¡°How do you suggest we do that?¡± he asked impatiently.


    It was clear by the King¡¯s tone that he did not care for this conversation. They had been down this road many times before: he would attempt to present an idea, his father would belittle him, and he would shut down and give up. He refused to travel this path again. Not this time.


    ¡°The initial solution is simple. In order for us to more readily understand what our people need, what they ask for, we must work with them. Well, at least one of them.¡±


    Aleksander actually paused for a moment. His gaze softened to confusion.


    ¡°What are you getting at?¡±


    He turned back to look at his father, firelight reflecting in his blue eyes. ¡°I ask that you give Percy a seat on your council. His family is well respected and well loved by the common people, he himself has immense popularity among their society, and I believe he has a natural talent for diplomacy.¡±


    ¡°He challenged your brother¨C¡±


    ¡°Good. Lord knows he needs it every now and then,¡± he pushed. ¡°I believe it showed that Percy would be able to hold his own at court, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°What you ask for, boy, is unprecedented. That commoner has no right to sit on my council¨C¡±


    ¡°No birthright, no. But men are lifted in station all the time by earning it, by performing a large service to the Crown. Many a knight have found their promotion through these means.¡±


    ¡°And what large service has this blacksmith boy done for the Crown?¡± he interrogated frustratedly.


    ¡°Saved my life.¡±


    The King fell silent, cold brown eyes burning with intensity.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there. That boar was going to kill me. It was Percy who put a bolt through its skull, all while he had been dragged by his horse and gouged by tusks. The only reason he was there today, the only reason he was injured, was because of me. Because of my asking. I owe him, Father. This family owes him. At the very least, we owe his family for all of the work they¡¯ve done. Their older son is on the front lines, fighting for us. And now their youngest has sacrificed his livelihood to save their prince. It is the least we can do to make sure his future is secure, and this presents us with the opportunity that I have brought to you. We help him, and he helps us hold our people.¡±


    Aleksander sighed and turned to look into the fire, large hands encompassing the arms of his chair. ¡°You truly are your mother¡¯s son¡­ One day that generous heart of yours will ruin you.¡±


    He felt his heart sink to the floor, a sickening pit forming in his stomach. It wasn¡¯t enough. It was never enough¡­


    ¡°But you may be right, this time. The men of my council have been bringing troublesome news to my ears. Whispers of rebellious fantasies. And with the territory we have been gaining from Farmond, we also gain their people. Needless to say, they are not very happy under their new situation. We cannot afford to attempt to quell our new citizens of Westgarde while more of our denizens stir up the countryside.¡±


    A fire began to blaze in his heart.


    ¡°It must begin here in Oxmore then. If we can begin to make changes, meet the needs of our people within its capital, news will spread. But we have to improve things here first, else we spread ourselves too thin.¡±


    The ghost of a smile twitched at the King¡¯s lips. ¡°Have you been learning strategy from your brother?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s rather amazing what you can simply learn from books,¡± he pointed out, a sense of self-pride pushing through his voice.


    ¡°And who will mentor the blacksmith boy? I will not have him come into my council and make a fool of himself and the Crown. He must be taught our ways,¡± his father said sternly.


    ¡°Might I suggest Oliver Farrington, elder brother of Philip¡¯s betrothed? The two seem to be of like spirits. I dare say they were beginning to cultivate some friendship this morning, at least from my perspective. I believe they will work together well. Oliver already intends to stay at court with his sister, at his father¡¯s request, and he is quite well versed in politics. He will most certainly be another asset we can utilize.¡±


    ¡°That does seem to be a sound choice. Fine, you will inform him of this proposition yourself,¡± he decreed. ¡°As for the blacksmith, he is your responsibility. Any trouble he causes, any offense committed, also falls on your shoulders. Is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Then we are done here for tonight. Go, rest. We need you well for the ball. I fully expect you to attend¨C¡±


    ¡°I will¨C¡±


    ¡°--And participate,¡± he added pointedly, his tone accusatory. ¡°If you are to begin making demands of this family, you must in turn start to take your role seriously.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡±


    Aleksander sighed once more. ¡°I will see you in the morning.¡±


    Painfully rising from his chair, he walked stiffly to the door, yanking it open.


    ¡°Aryn.¡±


    He paused and turned to face his father.


    ¡°Do not make me regret this.¡±


    With a bow of his head, he closed the door behind him.

 Twelve

    Where am I?..


    His crusted eyes opened difficultly to look upon a stone ceiling. A soft crackling could be heard to his left, and he could feel the warmth radiating from it. His mouth was painfully dry, and as he went to brace himself to sit up, the most horrible pain shot through his arm. He cried out as he collapsed back to the bed, his breathing quickening as an unbearable throbbing set in.


    Suddenly the door to the chamber opened as an older gentleman entered, two younger ladies trailing him. One of the girls held a wooden tray adorned with all manner of tiny bowls, bottles, and linen cloth. The man was dressed in dark grey robes with silver filigree, and a beautiful silver chain hung from the side of his waist.


    ¡°Easy, my boy,¡± his old voice was comforting, smooth and warm like a cup of tea with honey. ¡°You¡¯re all right. Let me take a look at you.¡±


    The young lady whose hands were free approached his bedside and carefully pulled the thick blanket down to his waist. He had been dressed in loose linens and deprived of a shirt. As he glanced over at his right arm, dread washed over him. The entire upper half had been thickly wrapped in linen bandages, the white having turned a muted copper color from all the dried blood.


    ¡°Here, drink this. It will help with the pain.¡±


    A small bottle was presented to him, and he drank it without a second thought.


    ¡°Water. Do you have water?¡± he croaked.


    The other girl quickly switched his empty bottle for a cup. He chugged it down.


    ¡°I need to check your wound. This may hurt, but I promise no damage will be done,¡± the old man explained.


    Catching his breath, he nodded in permission. Slowly and meticulously, the linen was unwound. He winced as it unstuck from the wound, but the discomfort was bearable. As the final wrap was removed, hazy green eyes caught a glimpse of the damage that had been done. Quickly averting his gaze, he couldn¡¯t fight the tightness closing up his throat. He could see them all, staring at it, at him. The pathetic sympathy in their eyes. He bit down on his tongue hard enough to bleed, fighting back tears.


    ¡°Lilian will clean the wound for you.¡±


    The girl to his left where his gaze had gone now came around the bed, and soon after, he felt a hot, wet cloth ever so gently drag across the skin of his arm in a wide circle. The old man came closer now, staring intently at his disfigurement.


    ¡°The stitches have held properly, which is great news. There does not appear to be any redness about the area, nor any rot taking hold.¡±


    A hand was placed on his forehead.


    ¡°You do not feel overly warm, do you?¡±


    He shook his head numbly.


    ¡°Good. Mary will redress it after the medicines have been applied. It is not infected, and we certainly want to keep it that way¨C¡±


    ¡°Is my ankle broken?¡± he asked lowly, his voice hoarse and tired.


    ¡°I do not believe so. While you were asleep, I tested its movement. Nothing seems to be out of place, but it is severely sprained. I leeched it to remove the stagnant blood; it should help with the swelling. Did you attempt to walk on it?¡±


    ¡°I had to.¡±


    ¡°I see. Well, do try to stay off of it for a good while. There are crutches by the bed for when you must arise, but that arm may not be able to tolerate it very well. If you need to use the chamberpot, my assistants can help you so you do not reinjure anything¨C¡±


    ¡°So now I need help taking a piss?¡± he grumbled angrily.


    The man sighed and looked at him gently. ¡°My boy, you were gravely injured. There is no shame in being careful with your recovery. You will not need this help for long.¡±


    He winced slightly as Mary began spreading a salve across the injury, and he couldn¡¯t help finally looking at it. The gouge went around the entire outside half of his arm. He could tell by the thickness of the stitches that it had been rather wide as well. As the girl began to spread the ointment out further, his brow furrowed. He couldn¡¯t feel it as she touched the lateral part of his arm below the wound, closer to his forearm.


    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t feel that,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°Depending on the type of injury, say a deep slash of a sword, sometimes things buried deep within our flesh can be injured as well. The sensation may yet come back; it is not impossible¨C¡±


    ¡°But what about moving it?¡± he asked as panic began welling inside his chest.


    ¡°From what the other men told me of what happened, that is nothing to worry about. After the injury, you were able to lift a rather heavy weapon. Now your strength may be altered, but I have no fear of you losing the ability to move the arm,¡± the man explained reassuringly.


    A million thoughts raced through his head as he stared at the stitches, but one overpowered the rest.


    ¡°Where is Prince Aryn?¡±


    ¡°I believe he is still asleep. I can fetch him for you, if¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes. Please,¡± he added quickly.


    The older man nodded and stepped out of the room with Lilian, leaving him with the other assistant, Mary. He watched cautiously as she gently began to rewrap the arm. His green eyes darted back down as she looked up, accidentally making eye contact.


    She smiled softly. ¡°I heard you killed the boar.¡±


    ¡°It was luck,¡± he murmured dismissively.


    ¡°Well, luck or not, I suppose I shall be the first to properly thank you. Us servants here at the castle would be heartbroken if His Highness had been killed. He is very kind to us you see,¡±she explained tenderly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised,¡± he added, a small smile briefly twitching at the corner of his lips. ¡°He does have a rather kind soul.¡±


    ¡°So you are the Prince¡¯s friend?¡± she questioned casually.


    She glanced back up at him briefly before continuing to wrap the linen around his lower bicep.


    ¡°He accidentally broke into the tavern I work at,¡± he explained cheekily.


    She giggled softly, a shy smile spreading across her face. Even though he didn¡¯t fancy women, it was easy to admit she was beautiful. Her hair was a cool light brown, as well as her eyes, and the shape of her face was soft with high cheekbones. She possessed an aura of warmth and comfort about her; it was possible it was just part of her job, but it was hard to completely fake such a thing.


    ¡°That does sound like him. He is quite a¡­ unique individual, in the best ways of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m lucky to call him my friend,¡± he concluded.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± she prompted.


    ¡°Percy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Mary, but you probably gathered that from Maester Byron,¡± she introduced.


    ¡°He seems kind, and quite knowledgeable,¡± he continued.


    ¡°Oh, he is. One of the smartest people I¡¯ve ever met. And very compassionate. He treats Lilian and I very well, like equals. As equal as men and women can be, anyway. Not many women are assistants to maesters in Westgarde.¡±


    ¡°Well you must be very smart too then,¡± he pointed out with a small smile.


    She blushed softly and looked back towards her work. Although he was not purposefully making it his intention, he could tell what was happening, what with the way her brown eyes kept subtly migrating towards his bare torso.


    ¡°I know a few things, I suppose. I used to live in a little village close to the border. When the war started, I didn¡¯t have much of a choice but to learn how to comfort dying men, or on the off chance keep them from dying. I¡¯ve seen wounds far more ghastly than yours, Percy. You¡¯re a strong young man. I have every confidence you¡¯ll recover well.¡±


    ¡°Another scar, another story, right?¡± he jested, attempting to lighten the mood. Mostly it was an attempt for himself.


    She chuckled lightly. ¡°Scars are a good thing. They mean you survived.¡±


    He watched patiently as she grabbed a small bottle and paintbrush from the tray. Removing the lid, she dipped the brush in and carefully began applying its contents to the outside of his bandages. The final piece came to lay over the liquid, and she delicately ran her hand along the cloth to smooth it out the rest of the way.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Maester Byron taught us that securing bandages with glue is much more effective and safe than just tying it. You won¡¯t cut off any circulation or impede the healing process,¡± she explained as she placed the tools back on the tray.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he cut in. ¡°For helping me. You three saved my life. And my arm. And my ankle.¡±


    A warm smile spread across her face. ¡°There¡¯s no need to thank us. It was the least we could do for what you did.¡±


    He started slightly as a knock sounded on the door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Mary called brightly.


    The door opened, and immediately his eyes began to sting. He bit down on his tongue once again in an attempt to control himself as Aryn hurried into the room. Mary shot to her feet and curtsied low.


    ¡°Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Mary stand up, you know me better than that,¡± he ordered as he fell to his knees beside the bed.


    His ashen hair was disheveled, and he was still dressed in his nightclothes. ¡°Is he taken care of?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Good. Thank you. Give us a moment, please.¡±


    She nodded and gathered up her supplies, quickly exiting the room. He couldn¡¯t help but clock the subtle look in her eyes before she closed the door.


    With just the two of them in the room, he let himself feel. Tears welled in his eyes as his throat began to close up, and he moved his good arm to take Aryn¡¯s hand. Soft fingers worriedly brushed curls from his forehead.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± the prince asked, emotion warping his voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m all right. Are you okay¨C¡±


    ¡°Percy I am so sorry,¡± he whispered as he squeezed his hand tightly.


    He watched as tears tumbled from his blue eyes. It ripped his heart out.


    ¡°Aryn none of this was your fault¨C¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have asked you to come,¡± he cried quietly, his gaze fixating on the bandages. ¡°I was so goddamn selfish. You do everything for me, everything. And just because I didn¡¯t want to be alone, now you¡¯re lying here in this bed¨C¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    Their eyes suddenly met at his forceful word. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to settle himself.


    ¡°I chose to do those things for you. Nobody put a knife to my throat and told me to be there. I chose to come. Just like I chose to stay with you that very first night and hold you, care for you. I chose to finally be my real self with you, to finally be happy. I chose you. And I chose to fight, to damn my body and make it to that crossbow because I knew¡­¡±


    He let out a trembling breath as a stream of tears trailed down his cheek. ¡°I knew that I would never be able to live with myself if I didn¡¯t try to save the young man that I love.¡±


    Soft hands slowly came to cup his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the prince¡¯s thumb gently wiped his tears away. He heard shifting in front of him before their lips pressed together. His left hand reached up and tangled inside feathery locks of ashen hair, and he could feel Aryn¡¯s mouth tremble as they kissed.


    ¡°Look at me,¡± he whispered.


    They both proceeded to open their eyes, foreheads pressed tightly together as Aryn stood over him.


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°Percy¨C¡±


    ¡°I love you more than I have ever loved anything in this world,¡± he whispered against his lips.


    Their breaths mingled as Aryn sighed sharply, and the prince lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Soft fingertips trailed down his neck to his chest, setting his skin on fire.


    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to return that sentiment¨C¡±


    A thumb came to rest over his lips, silencing him. He lifted his gaze and spotted the intensity in Aryn¡¯s eyes as the prince stared at him with incredulity.


    ¡°Do you not understand how terribly I yearn for you? Whenever I am near you, it feels as if there is this¡­ inescapable force, pulling me to you. There is a voice within me that only calls your name. You make my soul feel light again. I burn for you, Percy. I have never known happiness such as this.¡±


    His chest thumped wildly as their lips brushed one another¡¯s, unbearable longing welling up inside his heart. It was difficult to describe exactly what he was feeling at that moment. All of the moments they had shared together came rushing back, pieces of intimacy and joy flashing in his mind, and there was this vulnerability, almost akin to fear, that blanketed them.


    ¡°Promise me¡­¡±


    ¡°Promise what?¡± he breathed.


    Aryn¡¯s thumb brushed along his bottom lip as his delicate hands cradled his face.


    ¡°Promise you¡¯ll always be mine. Promise that I will always have you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m yours, Percy. Utterly and completely yours. Always.¡±


    He could hold back no longer as he crashed his lips into Aryn¡¯s. The fire beside them crackled and popped as the prince pulled the blanket down onto his legs and climbed on top of him. They were both dressed thinly, and it wasn¡¯t until Aryn trailed his hands about his bare torso that he realized just how horribly he had missed the prince¡¯s touch. Even after one day, his body ached for it; he wished to never go without it. God how he wished every day could be like this, that they could be here together always.


    His lips found their way to Aryn¡¯s jaw, then slowly and gently peppered kisses along his neck. Fingers tangled in his curly hair as the sound of their breathing created a whispered symphony. He found his hand sliding its way beneath the prince¡¯s shirt, feeling the smooth skin along his back, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Instead he grasped the hem and began to tug it upward.


    ¡°You need to rest,¡± Aryn protested, although the tone of his voice did not match the message being portrayed.


    ¡°What I need is you,¡± he argued as the shirt came sliding off and onto the floor.


    ¡°Someone might hear¨C¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    Diffuse, dark bruises covered the skin over his ribs, and he could feel his own chest tightening up as his good hand gently came to rest on the left side of his ribcage. With a featherlight touch, his fingertips skimmed over the bruises. A different set of fingers gently lifted his chin.


    ¡°It will heal,¡± he murmured, leaning down and pressing soft lips to his own.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t shoot it sooner.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, shame on you. It wasn¡¯t as if you were actively dying.¡±


    He chuckled airily as he felt Aryn grin against his mouth. ¡°Sit up on your knees.¡±


    The prince pulled back to give him a curious look, that of which he responded to with an insistent one. Hesitantly, Aryn rose from his lap and balanced himself, a hand instinctively running through his thick brown curls as the other stabilized on the wall. He let his good hand migrate to the prince¡¯s lower back. Pulling him close, his lips dragged across his bruised skin.


    ¡°I need to talk to you about something,¡± Aryn breathed.


    His voice stirred something deep within his stomach, but he forced himself to pull back and look up at his face. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°So I spoke with my father,¡± he began, soothingly rubbing a knuckle up and down his sternum as he sat back onto his lap. ¡°And you have a seat on his council, if you wish it.¡±


    His mind went blank.


    ¡°What?¡± was all he could think of to say.


    Aryn patiently brushed a curl from his forehead. ¡°You are to serve as a liaison for the commonwealth. Communicate the needs of the people to the Crown and act as a diplomat between it and its citizens.¡±


    ¡°How did this happen?¡± he asked disbelievingly.


    ¡°We had a conversation last night, during which I informed him that I would be quite dead if it had not been for you. We came to the conclusion that it would be a mutually beneficial opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Aryn I cannot serve on the King¡¯s council; only those of noble birth¨C¡±


    ¡°Or those who are promoted in station for a tremendous deed done for the Crown. Such as saving the royal prince¡¯s life.¡±


    He sighed sharply as his brow furrowed. ¡°And what of my family?¡±


    ¡°Well, as per custom, you will be moved to a residence within the inner circle. They are welcome to join you, but with the smithy, I assume they would prefer to remain where they are. You will be paid a stipend fortnightly, like the rest of the council members, to do with as you wish.¡±


    Realization struck him.


    ¡°So, I will be close to you?¡±


    Aryn¡¯s hands came to hold his face. ¡°We can be near each other every single day if we wish. Father has made you my responsibility while at court. It would not seem terribly strange for us to meet frequently.¡±


    His heart leapt.


    ¡°Aryn this is¡­ you didn¡¯t have to do this for me.¡±


    ¡°But I wanted to. For you, for us. And on top of that, for the people of Westgarde. Think of the change we can make, Percy. You¡¯ll be making history, breaking down walls. And I¡¯ll be right there next to you as you do it.¡±


    His blue eyes shone with a passion he had not yet seen before, and it stirred something within his soul. This was the boy he fell in love with, the boy he knew was hidden somewhere beneath that shell of self-doubt. He had seen something in his eyes when they had met. Something unique and beautiful and extraordinary that he longed so desperately to be part of.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    A beaming smile quickly lit up Aryn¡¯s face as he let out a breath, and a firm kiss was pressed to his cheek. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    He tucked a stray piece of ashen hair behind his ear, unable to fight the soft grin that was beginning to spread on his own face. As he took him in, he couldn¡¯t help the frustration that he started to feel. Emerald eyes darted about the various features he had come to know like the back of his hand. His mind wandered to scenarios not yet undertaken.


    ¡°What?¡± the prince asked shyly.


    He shook his head. ¡°I just wish I weren¡¯t stuck to this bed, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Aryn trailed his fingers along his right shoulder, his gaze following his hand. A light blush arose on his cheeks as he slid his good hand up the prince¡¯s thigh.


    ¡°We both need to heal. And once you¡¯re strong enough to move into your new place, I can be there. To take care of you.¡±


    Fingertips now traced along his hip, inward. His breathing was sharp as Aryn brushed his lips against his, and he thanked God for loose linen pants.


    They both jumped as knuckles tapped on the door, gazes immediately whipping towards the dark oak.


    ¡°Your Highness, the King has summoned you,¡± a familiar female voice said from behind the wood.


    ¡°Thank you, Mary, I¡¯ll be there in a moment,¡± he called back.


    He had to stifle a laugh at the sudden change of tone in the prince¡¯s voice, and as the young man glanced back at him, the back of a hand came to gently swat him on the chest. An apologetic, longing look entered his blue eyes before their lips touched once again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come check in on you,¡± he promised tenderly.


    ¡°Could you do me a favor?¡±


    ¡°Anything.¡±


    A soft smile irresistibly bloomed on his face. ¡°Would you be able to grab my sketchbook from the house? If I don¡¯t have something to preoccupy my time, I fear I¡¯ll go quite insane.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll bring it to you by this evening.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, love.¡±


    Another kiss was placed on his tan cheek before the prince carefully slid off his lap. He gathered his loose shirt from the floor and haphazardly tossed it on as he made his way towards the door.


    ¡°Percy?¡±


    He glanced up expectantly, smoothing the blanket out on his legs. An intimateness had entered Aryn¡¯s eyes, and as he reached for the door handle, Percy noticed his chest heave subtly with a breath.


    ¡°I love you, too.¡±

 Thirteen

    For how utterly freezing it was outside, it sure felt like the entrance to Hell had been opened up in the room. The stuffiness was enough to make it seem as if he were on the verge of suffocating. Add on the fact that there were so many people flitting about and squawking with varying tones of panic. It was a genuine concern of his that all the rouge they were putting on her lips and cheeks was about to melt right off.


    Arms crossed, he strode over to one of the windows within the room and undid the latch, letting in a much-needed draft of cold air. The other ladies in the room glared at him, almost daring to speak up in protest, but her eyes conveyed a silent, very desperate ¡®thank you¡¯.


    The heavy oak door clanked open as his father invited himself into the chamber. His amber eyes glanced about calculatingly, taking in the organized chaos, before a frown settled on his thin lips.


    ¡°Why is the window open? She could catch a cold,¡± he scolded the room.


    ¡°Would you rather her melt, Father?¡± he challenged nonchalantly, lowering himself into an armchair by the bed and lazily crossing his legs.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather her do neither.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t fight the upward drift of his similarly colored eyes before they landed back on his sister. Her silky, dark hair was being twisted into an elaborate braid and woven around her head. She stared at him through the large mirror nervously, to which he replied with a subtle, reassuring smile. They had at least been kind enough not to stuff her into that gigantic dress yet.


    As for himself, the simple crimson tunic and black breeches he had donned to spar with Philip still occupied his body. The crown prince had been rather nervous this morning, and who was he to turn down some sword practice? A bit of dirt was still smeared on the side of his neck, and he had to bite back the smirk growing on his face as he caught his father staring daggers at him.


    ¡°Why are you not ready?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t realize I had to get my hair braided as well,¡± he replied smartly with the raise of an eyebrow. ¡°Do I also get a beautiful dress¨C¡±


    ¡°Oliver this is not the time. Go get cleaned up. Now, please.¡±


    With a bored sigh, he lifted himself from the chair and sauntered over to his sister. The rest of the girls awkwardly took a step back as he approached. A hand on her shoulder, he bent down and placed a kiss on her head so as not to jeopardize her makeup.


    ¡°You look beautiful, Sister,¡± he declared gently, a tone entering his voice that was rarely heard.


    She smiled up at him and placed her hand atop his. ¡°Thank you, Brother. I¡¯ll see you at the ceremony.¡±


    He nodded and stepped away, meeting his father¡¯s eyes before departing from the room. The halls were bustling with all manner of servants and vendors and decorators, all of whom stopped and gave a nod of respect as he passed by. It was strange going from just some rich brat to someone of importance. Importance by proxy, but importance nonetheless. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Finally he made it to his own chambers, where some unknown saint had already prepared a bath for him. Stripping off his grimy clothes, the dresser mirror caught his eye, and he took a moment to observe. Bruises in various states of healing peppered his slenderly muscular torso, some more gnarly than others. The past fortnight had been dreadfully boring, as his father had forbade participation in the rings for the upcoming wedding. What shame it would bring their family if he showed up with a black eye or a busted, swollen lip.


    Appearances. That¡¯s what everything was about. All the time. It was the only thing that mattered in the Farrington household, and Dahlia upheld that standard exceedingly. Although he supposed she had much less choice in the matter. For himself, he couldn¡¯t give a rat¡¯s arse. Everyone in his family was fake. They put on their outfits, a different mask for each role they choose to play, and smile while they lie to someone¡¯s face.


    It¡¯s for the family.


    He scoffed, his amber eyes pulling away from the mirror and towards the steaming tub. Every ache within his body made itself known as he lowered into the scalding water, and he winced as a few open cuts from God knew where began to sting. Slowly sinking the rest of the way, he sighed wearily and closed his eyes, arms resting on the side of the tub.


    Knuckles rapped on his door.


    His lips pressed impatiently into a thin line. ¡°Yes?¡±


    The oak swung open to reveal his father, to which he responded by sinking his mouth below the water. He quickly locked the door before turning to face him with a severe countenance.


    ¡°I do hope you behave today,¡± he started, voice low.


    ¡°Obedient as a dog,¡± he grumbled back dismissively, dipping fully under the water for a moment to wet his hair and face.


    ¡°Oliver, this is not a joke. Do you know how long we have waited for this? All of the preparing and planning¨C¡±


    ¡°And lying and cheating and scheming, yes, I know, Father.¡±


    He grabbed a sponge and started to scrub his shoulders harshly, the skin turning red. A sinister weight planted itself in his stomach and slowly began its descent.


    ¡°This is the biggest day of your sister¡¯s life. Do not ruin it by¨C¡±


    His hand splashed back down in the water as he twisted in the tub. ¡°Do you think me that much of a fool? Of course I won¡¯t ruin it; I¡¯ll not spoil her innocence like that.¡±


    He grabbed the ceramic jug from the small table prepared by the bath and leaned his head back, carefully pouring the herbal rinse along his hairline. The other hand worked it into his scalp, and he winced slightly as he accidentally scratched himself too hard.


    ¡°You did well to befriend the other one. I heard he has made you an advisor to this new councilman¨C¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be helping Dahlia or Mother get ready instead of breathing down my neck?¡± he snapped.


    A darker look came to occupy the man¡¯s face as both of their patiences were wearing thin. ¡°If I am to leave you here at court, you must begin to try harder to earn my trust. Urgently.¡±


    ¡°All due respect, Father, but you have your job, and I have mine. So for the love of God, just let me do my fucking job,¡± he stated through clenched teeth.


    ¡°If you had done your job correctly, it would be you sitting on the council, not that commoner.¡±


    He gripped the lip of the tub hard enough to hurt.


    ¡°His appointment was a freak accident. If that boar hadn¡¯t have ripped his arm open, he¡¯d still be pounding metal¨C¡±


    ¡°And yet you were still an afterthought. I thought when you had informed me of the prince¡¯s weaknesses that you were going to become indispensable to him.¡±


    He slammed the jug back down on the table. ¡°Yes, well, clearly that is not what happened. Maybe it was for the best. Our platonic friendship will be far more reliable than me warming his bed at night, now won¡¯t it?¡±


    Immense discomfort, poorly masking a sense of disgust, spread across his aging face. ¡°Just do whatever needs to be done. I will see you at the ceremony.¡±


    As the door latched shut, he sank under the water and screamed.

 Fourteen

    ¡°Well, how do you like it?¡± he probed excitedly as he guided Percy into the estate.


    He had spent the past week turning the empty residence into a real home, soliciting the best carpenters and decorators from the inner circle. In truth, he had welcomed the task wholeheartedly. Philip hadn¡¯t so much as looked his way after the wedding; he was far too wrapped up in his new bride to even acknowledge most of the people in the castle. And Father had been so distracted by the marriage and all the issues being brought forth by the council that he hadn¡¯t batted an eye when he had asked if he could take a small fortune of gold from the coffers.


    The estate had been refurbished into a more simple, rustic aesthetic, styled in various shades of green and deep, rich browns. He had made sure that the furniture was centered around comfort and not just pure expense. Wide wooden stairs were situated directly across from the main front door. A grand fireplace sat lit in the main foyer to the right, stocked with wood, and the spacious room was decorated with an obscenely large daybed accompanied by matching armchairs. To the left was a sophisticatedly decorated dining room with a grand table made of dark wood and plush dining chairs.


    Percy scoffed in disbelief. ¡°Aryn, this is¡­ I don¡¯t even know what this is,¡± he chuckled.


    ¡°Well whatever you decide to call it, it¡¯s yours.¡±


    ¡°Ours,¡± he corrected.


    He couldn¡¯t hide the pink coloration that began to rise on his cheeks as the young man stared at him insistently. ¡°Come on. Let me show you the upstairs. I think you¡¯ll like it even more.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way, Your Highness,¡± he prompted playfully, readjusting his crutch.


    It had been a rather tumultuous two weeks, he thought as they carefully ascended the stairs. The wedding had been chaotic, as all weddings were, but fulfilling. And yet while he had sat at the family table on the raised dais in the throne room, he had been unable to allow himself to be fully happy. His mind had kept drifting to Percy, sat alone in his bed, only a sketchbook to keep him company while everyone else celebrated together.


    He had awoken the other night for some unknown reason. Call it restlessness, anxiousness. But he had stumbled sleepily towards Percy¡¯s temporary chambers to find him lying on the ground writhing in pain. Apparently he had attempted to transport himself to the chamberpot, and his crutches slipped. He¡¯d hit his head on the floor, but not before he had reacted out of instinct and tried to brace with his injured arm. When he tried to help, he snapped. Told him to get away from him, that he could do it himself. He hadn¡¯t wanted Aryn to see him like that. It was the first time he had seen Percy truly just cry.


    ¡°There are bedrooms up here for your family and guests, including the master, but what I really wanted to show you¨C¡± he opened a door at the right end of the hallway¨C ¡°is this.¡±


    The room was mostly windows, overlooking a secluded wild garden. A large, dark oak desk sat in front of the subsequently largest window, accompanied by an extremely comfortable chair. In front of another window stood an easel, and, on the only truly windowless wall in the room, an impressive amount of shelves were secured into it. They contained all manner of charcoals and paints, as well as blank canvases and different sketchbooks.  And along any free wallspace, sketches and drawings had been framed and hung.


    He stood back as Percy slowly entered the room, staying silent and patient. The absolute disbelief on his tanned face was enough to make his throat close up, and it proved impossible to keep his emotions in check as he saw a tear slip from his green eyes. He waited, expecting Percy to say something, as he stood anxiously in the doorway. Instead he pulled the chair out from the desk, faced it towards the door, and sat in it, letting his crutch fall to the ground as he reached a calloused hand out to him.


    Pressing his lips together, he timidly closed the distance and took his hand. Suddenly he was pulled forward, and a strong arm wrapped around his waist as he fell onto Percy¡¯s lap, legs straddling him. A gentle, intimate smile spread across his face.


    ¡°I truly do not deserve you¨C¡±


    ¡°Now that is not true,¡± he scolded immediately, pulling his chin up to make their gazes meet.


    Instead of protesting further, Percy strained his neck upward and connected their lips, his good hand instinctively finding its way beneath his shirt and onto the skin of his back. A wave of warmth flowed through his body as he settled deeper into Percy¡¯s lap, and he couldn¡¯t fight back his boyish grin.


    ¡°And you know what else?¡± he murmured coyly.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    His skin prickled as Percy moved his lips to his jaw, his fingertips lightly trailing back and forth on his lower back.


    ¡°This place is your¨C ours, and ours only. We can do whatever we want,¡± he pointed out. ¡°We¡¯re free here.¡±


    His stomach started to do flips at the look Percy now gave him as he pulled away to look at him. Oh yes, he¡¯d thought about it, too. In fact it was all he had really been able to think about besides, first and foremost, Percy recovering. The whole time he¡¯d been renovating the small estate, he had to stop himself from imagining the things he wanted the former smith to do to him in each room.


    It had not been a very successful endeavor.


    ¡°Why must you give me even more reason to resent that animal?¡± he questioned playfully, half the words getting lost against Aryn¡¯s neck.


    He draped his arm along the back of Percy¡¯s strong, broad shoulders as he tilted his head, allowing him more access. Although he had stated it in jest, his frustration hung in the air like a scent one couldn¡¯t quite get rid of. It was subtle but seeped into everything, tainting the joy in the room. He understood completely. No, Percy hadn¡¯t wanted to be a blacksmith, but that was his choice to make, and that choice had been ripped away from him. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    A tender pain snapped him out of his thoughts, and he recoiled slightly with a sharp inhale as a hand gripped his upper thigh. Concerned green eyes stared up at him as his mouth grew dry.


    ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah, I just hit it on the corner of my bed the other night. Couldn¡¯t see; I was clumsy,¡± he lied.


    His dark eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he could see the thoughts forming, a faint memory returning.


    ¡°What¡¯s been upsetting you?¡±


    It was all he had asked, but it made him break. He self-consciously removed Percy¡¯s hand from him, anxiously playing with his fingers instead to attempt to distract himself.


    ¡°When you fell the other night¡­ it made me feel horrible. You were so upset and angry and all I could think was, ¡®this is my fault¡¯. I felt helpless, and I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it. And then I started thinking about my mum. Then my father. And I just¡­¡± He sighed heavily. ¡°My mind was darkening.¡±


    ¡°I just want to understand why it happens,¡± he explained gently. His voice was heartbreakingly kind, and it made his blue eyes begin to sting.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. All these dark thoughts just start to invade my head, and no matter how hard I try to redirect, they keep coming. Until it feels like my mind is going to explode. It makes me physically ill sometimes¡­ and the only thing that seems to work is physical distraction, release. The best way I could describe it is like¡­ some twisted catharsis I suppose.¡±


    He stared intently down at their intertwined hands, refusing eye contact. Saying it aloud covered him in a heavy cloud of shame. He knew it wasn¡¯t normal, but at the same time, it was the only thing that seemed to bring him back to reality in those moments. Before things went too far.


    ¡°When was the last time, before this one?¡±


    ¡°Shortly after we met. I hadn¡¯t in a long time,¡± he answered reluctantly, his voice quiet.


    Percy slipped his hand from his grasp and instead gently began to stroke his arm. ¡°Whenever you feel that way again, I want you to come to me. I don¡¯t care what hour it is, or even if I have upset you, you come to me.¡±


    His voice was soft, but there was a protectiveness to it that he had yet to hear before. The tone was not dissimilar to how he had spoken to him that first night at the tavern, when his mind had terrorized him. A tender dominance.


    ¡°Look at me.¡±


    He lifted his eyes.


    ¡°You are perfect to me. If I were so bothered by the things that haunt you, I wouldn¡¯t be here. Do you understand?¡±


    A tightness quickly formed in his chest, and he found it difficult to take a steady breath. His vision began to grow more and more blurry; instinctively he went to turn his head away, but a firm hand gripped his chin and pulled it right back. The look in his deep emerald eyes made him want to do things¡­


    ¡°Do you understand?¡±


    He nodded obediently, his lips parted slightly as his blue irises fixated on Percy¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do it,¡± he breathed softly.


    The gap between their faces grew smaller as he brushed a thumb along Aryn¡¯s bottom lip, his eyes caressing his body. ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Make me forget about everything else.¡±


    His thumb trailed down his chin, slowly tracing a line along the middle of his throat. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make you forget.¡± Finally he reached the end, stopping his finger in the notch of his sternum. ¡°All I want¨C¡± Aryn¡¯s chest heaved when his hand rested around his neck¨C ¡°is for you to feel loved.¡±


    It was infuriating. The way he touched him, the words he spoke, the way he spoke them¡­ and he could do nothing about it still. Since they had confessed their love, his dreams had been filled with vivid visions. Sometimes they felt real, and he would awake with a noise escaping his lips and a throbbing in his loins. But he couldn¡¯t act on them. It made him feel oddly selfish.


    But as Percy gripped his throat and pulled his mouth to his, the thought vanished. He could feel his frustration in the way he kissed him, how he shoved his tongue into his mouth. A heat immediately began to rise on his fair skin as he thought about the other places he wanted that mouth to be.


    His hands flew to the laces of Percy¡¯s breeches, and as teeth nipped and tugged at his bottom lip, he firmly wrapped his fingers around him. A quiet groan rumbled deep in his throat that sent fire coursing through his veins.


    ¡°I want¨C¡±


    His declaration was cut short as fingers tangled in his ashen hair, yanking his head back. The words devolved into an involuntary noise.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he growled in his ear.


    Everything felt too tight, his clothes chafing him, suffocating him. He wanted them off. Wanted Percy¡¯s off. His mouth couldn¡¯t form words as a hand forced its way into his pants, ignoring the laces entirely.


    ¡°I¡­¡± he moaned as Percy worked him in his hand, trying desperately to focus on returning the favor.


    ¡°Do you know what I want?¡± His breath tickled his ear and made the hairs on his neck stand up. ¡°I want you in that bed, our bed, laid out for me, naked. I want to hear my name on your lips as you beg for me.¡±


    Percy¡¯s hand disentangled from his hair and came to grasp his face, but their lips didn¡¯t meet. Instead they hovered, a microscopic amount of distance held precariously between them as their breaths intertwined.


    A distant banging could be heard on the front door, and he had never been so irritated in his life. Their hands had slowed but not stopped as a look passed between them, the temptation to ignore the outside world blatant in both of their eyes. But the banging persisted. He was the first to draw away; every movement was painful, and he couldn¡¯t help it as he brushed his lips against Percy¡¯s, desperately wanting to hold on to the moment.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± he murmured quietly.


    Several words were left unspoken as he slowly slid off Percy¡¯s lap and recollected himself, straightening out his clothes and hair and¡­ readjusting some things as he strode towards the stairs. The glass on either side of the heavy oak door was frosted, and he could only make out the outline of the person patiently waiting on the other side.


    He slid the latch across the door and yanked it open, surprised and yet quite relieved to find Oliver standing with his arms crossed tightly in front of his body. Although it wasn¡¯t snowing, the wind was rather aggressive, throwing his brown hair to the side.


    ¡°May I come in?¡± he asked with a curt smile.


    He smiled back and stepped aside. The nobleman quickly entered the house, violently shivering. ¡°I would complain about you taking so long but something tells me you¨C¡±


    ¡°Oliver, hi,¡± Percy called from the top of the stairs.


    A different expression settled on his angular face. ¡°Just the man I wanted to see. How¡¯s the healing process going?¡±


    Balancing gingerly on both his feet, Percy waggled his crutch. ¡°Better. Byron told me to start trying to put some weight on it. Hurts like Hell, but it¡¯s not given out the last couple of days, so that¡¯s progress.¡±


    ¡°Well good, because we have work to do,¡± he stated.


    Percy carefully made his way down the stairs, his brow furrowing. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    He glanced between the two men curiously as Oliver recomposed himself. There was an unspoken tension in the air he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on.


    ¡°The King¡¯s called a council meeting.¡±

 Fifteen

    He hadn¡¯t realized just how large the castle was until he was being guided through it. The council chamber was on the third floor, Oliver had told him as they walked. It took an embarrassing amount of time to reach it with having to tackle two flights of stairs. He didn¡¯t know why he had expected them to spiral upward through towers; he supposed that was just another common misconception shared among baseborn folk. Instead the stairs were broad and, thank God for him, not very steep. They were carved of the same stone as the castle, and he had to swallow back his pride as Oliver took singular steps with him, one hand hovering in case he needed help.


    Finally they reached the large double doors to the chamber. He felt his heart kick up and his mouth go slightly dry as he spotted two guards stationed on either side. Their armor was elaborate, but what he noticed first were their swords. Finely made and well-honed, he recognized the craftsmanship anywhere. A quiet sense of pride filled his chest as he clocked the signature notch in their pommels: his father¡¯s mark.


    One of the guards readily opened their side of the door as they approached, giving a small nod of customary respect. The droning of multiple conversations wafted towards them, and he felt his limbs suddenly grow heavy. Sensing his hesitation, Oliver took a step closer to him.


    ¡°All you have to do today is listen and observe. Familiarize yourself. You don¡¯t need to prove anything to these pompous fucks,¡± he murmured quietly.


    He chuckled through his nose, unable to fight the slight uptilt of his lips as his nerves began to settle. They passed through the doorway, and as his wooden crutch tapped rhythmically on the stone floor, the droning hushed. In a disorganized wave, they all eventually turned to look at them, at him. His skin flushed hot, and these ridiculous new clothes felt utterly too tight, too constricting. He could see it in their faces, their eyes, all collectively agreeing upon one thing.


    I don''t belong here.


    A hand clasped him on the shoulder, and he turned to look at Oliver confused.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come back for you when the meeting is done. We¡¯ll debrief.¡±


    His brow furrowed, heart beginning to race again. ¡°You¡¯re not staying?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not on the council, Percy. You are.¡±


    The faint sound of whispers and snickering echoed quietly in the chamber, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek. Oliver¡¯s expression shifted as his gaze sharpened, his hand squeezing him tighter.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you in a little while.¡± He leaned in closer to him, by his ear. ¡°Don¡¯t let them silence you.¡±


    With that, the nobleman pulled away and strode out the door. The dense wood slammed shut with a reverberating boom as he turned around to face the men in the room. It was a sea of strange, judgmental faces, and he couldn¡¯t seem to calm his heart. That was until Prince Philip removed himself from the crowd, striding towards him with a warm, handsome, clearly practiced smile.


    ¡°Percy! Am I glad to see how well you¡¯re doing,¡± he started. ¡°We were just about to get settled in. Come, let¡¯s find you a seat.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Prince Philip,¡± he smiled back curtly. ¡°Where¡¯s the King?¡±


    ¡°My father will be joining us in just a moment. Here, follow me.¡±


    A ridiculously large table occupied the center of the room, and as they drew closer, he realized it was not only a table but a map. Simple figurines decorated the surface in various positions, and it did not take him long to know that it was a map of Westgarde. His crutch continued its rhythmic tapping as Philip guided him to a chair. He couldn¡¯t help but clock the way that the other men gave him a wide berth as he approached or passed by.


    Good God, peasantry isn¡¯t a disease, you cunts.


    He sat as gracefully as he could before sliding the crutch beneath his chair, readjusting his clothes. As he looked around, a small sense of relief washed over him while he observed what the other men were wearing. Aryn, in all of his anxiety-driven foresight, had procured him a small wardrobe with some basics for the house, and as he had stood in the master bedroom panicking about what to wear, the prince had put together what he was dressed in now. The clothes were simple yet elegant: well-tailored dark olive breeches, a matching vest, and a white shirt with loose sleeves to allow his arms to breathe. The sleeves tapered at the wrists so as not to look unfinished or sloppy.


    Philip had quickly disappeared back into the small crowd of men, but he wasn¡¯t complaining. The less conversation he had to make, the better.


    ¡°Percy, correct?¡±


    He turned to face the direction of the voice. A young man, maybe a few years older than himself, had approached his chair. His smooth, uncalloused hand grasped a goblet of what he assumed was wine, judging by the two cupbearers present.


    ¡°Yes sir, Percy Lancaster. And you are?¡± he asked politely, reaching out his right hand.


    His arm protested, the skin and muscle painfully tight, but at least it had begun to heal enough to be semi-functional. His expression faltered for a split moment as he spotted the man¡¯s hesitancy, as if he were unclean or unworthy to touch him. Nevertheless, whether it was genuine or not to cause a stir, he eventually took it.


    ¡°Lord Benjamin Poulter.¡± He removed his hand a bit too quickly. ¡°My apologies for the awkwardness. Such friendliness is simply not custom among this crowd.¡±


    Prick.


    ¡°I understand. Your customs are just as alien to me as mine are to you. I certainly have much to learn,¡± he smoothed over, giving him a curt smile. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Lord Poulter took a drink of his wine. ¡°Mm, would you like a drink? The cupbearers can fetch one for you.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, that¡¯s quite all right. I¡¯ve been staying away from alcohol. The maester says it impedes the healing process,¡± he denied politely.


    ¡°Ah, I see. I heard about what happened,¡± the nobleman started. ¡°Thank the good Lord Prince Aryn is alive and well. But it must be very difficult for you.¡±


    He cocked his head. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°What with being so worthless now and all.¡±


    The muscles in his jaw twitched.


    Clanking of metal on wood sounded throughout the room, and suddenly everyone stood and turned their attention to the door. The red slowly faded from his vision as he hoisted himself from the chair and followed suit. The King entered the chamber, not caring to greet or even make eye contact, but every single person in the room bowed deeply. He had to brace himself on the table in front of him to bend even remotely that low, and as he unintentionally stood out from the rest of the men in height, he could feel holes being burned into him.


    Not until Aleksander was seated did the men in the room sit up, each taking their own respective places at the table. Thankfully, Lord Twat had chosen a chair far from him. He didn¡¯t think he would have been able to stand looking at his weasley little face for the next however long they were trapped in this room.


    They all waited in palpable silence, no one daring to speak before the Imperial King of Westgarde did.


    ¡°So, who has brought me something of actual importance today?¡± he prompted.


    The way he spoke elicited an unprovoked quiet anger from him. His tone was one of the most pure self-arrogance, and each word carried a silent threat behind it that said ¡®do not disappoint me¡¯. And yet he couldn¡¯t help but feel his heart kick up and palms begin to sweat at the idea of speaking in his presence, at him.


    ¡°There has been more trouble in Janisport, Your Grace. Several fights have broken out over the last fortnight, resulting in the injury of our men,¡± Poulter started.


    Of course he wanted to be the first to speak up.


    ¡°And what has been done to quell these spats? It seems the village folk have grown bolder, seeing that the frequency has increased.¡±


    ¡°An extra thirty men with previous townsguard experience have been dispatched to the village to keep control of the area,¡± the nobleman explained proudly, like he had done something.


    ¡°Yes, that will surely not cause more resentment towards the Crown¡¯s authority,¡± he mumbled sarcastically as he stared down at his lap, anxiously picking at the skin around his fingernails.


    It had slipped out unconsciously, but every head at the table turned towards him as his words cut through the conversation. The back of his neck heated up, and his heart sank as the King narrowed his cold brown eyes at him.


    Benjamin chuckled patronizingly. ¡°Do you expect us to just let them attack our men?¡±


    He fought with himself on whether or not to answer or concede. But while Lord Poulter looked at him condescendingly, Aleksander had a very different expression on his cruel face. He took a leap of faith.


    ¡°No. But what you¡¯re failing to ask, Lord Poulter, is why there have been riots.¡±


    The King¡¯s eyebrows twitched with thought.


    ¡°Because they are commoners, and all commoners crave for is violence and depravity,¡± he spat in his direction.


    ¡°Benjamin be quiet.¡±


    His gaze shot over towards Aleksander, who now stared at him with unnerving intensity. There was a challenge within his eyes, and he knew what was happening. This was a test.


    ¡°Why do you suspect there have been riots at Janisport, Mr. Lancaster?¡±


    He swallowed dryly, sitting up more in his chair. ¡°Janisport was previously a border town of Farmond, if I am not mistaken. I surmise they are unhappy about being seized and occupied.¡±


    ¡°They are now citizens of a far richer, more resourceful kingdom. Why would they be unhappy about that?¡±


    ¡°Because if I know anything about war, I can guarantee that village was razed. Am I correct?¡± he prompted the room, his gaze never leaving the King¡¯s.


    He saw several reluctant nods out of the corner of his eye.


    ¡°Then you know that that is simply how war is, Mr. Lancaster.¡±


    ¡°And what of all their destroyed property? Lost businesses, livelihoods? Burned fields? You expect them to be compliant, but they have lost everything and not at least been given the basic resources they need to rebuild, Your Grace. That is why there are riots.¡±


    Poulter scoffed incredulously. ¡°Your Grace, this boy knows nothing of how¨C¡±


    ¡°I told you to be silent. Unless you do not value your tongue, Lord Poulter, you will let this boy speak.¡±


    The chamber went absolutely silent. The King looked to him, waiting for him to continue. He did so hesitantly.


    ¡°You say Westgarde is rich and resourceful. Then we must use those resources to win over the people we have, frankly, forced to bow to us. Janisport is small, as are most of the other border towns that have been seized. It would not hurt the Crown to supply them with materials to rebuild their homes and replant their fields.¡±


    No one dared to say a word as uneasy eyes flitted between him and their King. Aleksander folded his hands together on the table.


    ¡°We cannot afford to lose the border towns,¡± he stated, addressing the room. ¡°The Crown has sacrificed enough just to gain them. Some lumber and grain is a minimal expense. Lord Hollis, I am tasking you with overseeing this distribution.¡± His cold, hard gaze swept across the council. ¡°Unless anyone has something else, this meeting is adjourned.¡±


    As he stood, the irritating symphony of chair legs scraping across stone followed. The council bowed deeply once more and did not rise until he exited the room. Gathering his crutch, he turned to spot Philip making his way towards him.


    ¡°You have some balls, I¡¯ll tell you that,¡± he stated with raised eyebrows.


    ¡°I just said what I thought was right.¡±


    The crown prince studied him briefly, and he couldn¡¯t quite discern the look that occupied his handsome face. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be seeing more of each other in the future. I look forward to getting to know you, Percy.¡±


    Strangely, the statement seemed genuine. He gave the young man a brief smile. ¡°You as well, Philip¨CYour Highness.¡±


    Something shifted in his rich brown eyes, and he could tell that thoughts raced through his mind. He had to hide his shock as the prince suddenly reached out a well-manicured hand. ¡°Just Philip.¡±


    Hesitating briefly, he grasped it. The air seemed to shift.


    ¡°Just Philip then.¡±


    Their hands separated, and the prince plastered on his endearing smile again as he turned and went to join a different conversation. As he limped out of the council chamber, he couldn¡¯t help the shit-eating smirk that grew on his face when he caught Benjamin glaring after him.

 Sixteen

    As the doors closed behind him, he couldn¡¯t help but feel nervous for the young man. The poor commoner was being fed to the wolves; he only hoped that Percy would either keep his mouth shut or stand his ground well enough. He did have Philip in there with him, although he wasn¡¯t quite sure if the crown prince liked Percy or was intimidated by him. After the hunt, he had stormed into his chambers and went off on a tangent about Aryn, talking about how he cared more for this baseborn nobody than his own brother. His jealousy was painfully obvious.


    As he descended the stairs, his mind continued to wander. A small smirk grew on his lips as the scene he had walked into at the estate popped back into his head.


    Those two need to be more careful.


    He understood it; they were now going through their own strange, secret honeymoon. They had true privacy now, although believable lies would still need to be weaved if others came knocking at the door. Philip had already begun to grow irritable and skeptical at all the time they seemed to be spending together; thank God his father couldn¡¯t give more than two shits as to Aryn¡¯s whereabouts most of the time. If the King ever found out about what the two of them really were¡­


    The fatal thought was pushed out of his mind as he reached the end of the staircase. His hands itched to move, to hit something, to have a focus, so he made his way to the back courtyard. A small training ring occupied one corner of the large, landscaped space, thankfully covered to keep out the elements. Subconsciously, he moved to retrieve a shortsword from one of the various weapon racks. He tested the weight of it in his hand: light and agile, just how he preferred. Backing up to the center of the space, he began to go through a series of movements, warming up his muscles and running through basic technique. He stepped on his back foot and pivoted, extending the sword outward in a lunge.


    Aryn stood at the entrance of the ring, lips pressed together anxiously as he was wrapped in a dark grey cloak. The sword had stopped a couple yards away from him, and his blue eyes darted between the blade and his own amber irises.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt you. I can go¨C¡±


    He shifted into a neutral position, lowering his arm. ¡°No, you¡¯re fine. Did you need something?¡±


    Their breaths materialized in the air as they spoke, cold nipping at their skin. A coy expression grew on the prince¡¯s fair face as he shrugged.


    ¡°I was bored.¡±


    He could see it in his eyes, feel it radiating off of him. Aryn was unbearably anxious. He understood; idleness made him want to jump out of his skin too. A small, warm smile spread across his lips.


    ¡°Worried about Percy?¡± he guessed.


    The prince¡¯s countenance shifted, telling him everything he needed to know. The one person he didn¡¯t abhor dealing with in this castle was Aryn. Whether he knew it or not, he wore his heart on his sleeve. It was refreshing not having to decipher someone for once.


    ¡°I have every confidence that he¡¯s doing fine,¡± he reassured. His movement hesitating briefly with thought, he strode over to the weapon rack and grabbed another shortsword. ¡°You want to practice while we wait?¡±


    Aryn looked as if he¡¯d asked him to murder someone. With an eyebrow raised in amusement, he made his way over to the prince and flipped the blade around, facing the pommel towards him. His slender hand did not move.


    ¡°I-I¡­ I¡¯ve never been one for using a sword.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a first time for everything. Come on, I¡¯ll teach you some basics. At the very least you should know how to defend yourself,¡± he goaded, pushing the pommel further in his direction.


    Extremely hesitantly, Aryn reached out and took hold of the sword. The blatant discomfort written across his face was comical, and it took everything in him not to laugh. He didn¡¯t want to discourage him.


    ¡°Would you like me to show you how to hold it?¡± he offered first, trying his hardest not to make the question sound condescending.


    It took the prince a moment to nod, embarrassment consuming his soft features. With a gentle smile, he took up place next to Aryn and held out his own sword. ¡°Depending on the sword, the ideal grip will change due to the weight balance. With any sword, you should grip the hilt firmly but not too tightly, otherwise you won¡¯t be able to move it fluidly.¡±


    He watched as Aryn adjusted his grip, but it seemed horribly awkward.


    ¡°Does it feel uncomfortable?¡±


    The prince sighed frustratedly. ¡°No I just¡­ I¡¯ve never been very good with my right hand.¡±


    ¡°So use the left.¡±


    ¡°Philip always told me that was wrong,¡± he added irritably.


    ¡°The only thing wrong about this situation is you using the hand you¡¯re worse with. You could use your feet for all I care if it makes you wield a blade best you can.¡±


    Reluctantly, Aryn switched the sword to his left hand. He noticed the difference immediately, the grip far more articulated and comfortable. The concentration and insecurity on the prince¡¯s face was extremely endearing.


    ¡°Good. Make sure the hilt is aligned with the bones of your forearm. You want it to feel like an extension of yourself, not its own entity. Now place your thumb along the flat of the¨Cyep, you got it.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s this look?¡± Aryn asked unsurely.


    He nodded in approval, unable to fight back the smile growing on his lips. ¡°Looks great. Does it feel like you''re clenching your fingers too hard?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m thinking of it as a really big letter opener.¡±


    A chuckle made its way out of his chest. ¡°Good. I like that. Now just follow me for a second, alright? So this is a defensive position¨C¡± he shifted his stance so that his dominant foot was in the back, therefore allowing him to pivot or shift his weight confidently. ¡°See where my feet are and how my sword is positioned?¡±


    Aryn copied, his limbs moving surprisingly effortlessly, but the sword part was not nearly as natural. The blade was not positioned in the right way.


    ¡°Okay here, stay there. I¡¯ll help you.¡±


    He let his own sword drop to the dirt as he stepped closer to the prince, taking a gentle hold of his sword arm. Slowly maneuvering it into the right position, he glanced back and forth between his work and Aryn.


    ¡°Do you see how that feels?¡± he prompted.


    ¡°Mhm,¡± he mumbled distantly, a focused expression plastered on his face as blue eyes blinked and darted about, absorbing information.


    He had forgotten how his arms felt. He was so lithe, so gently featured.


    Stop.


    The prince held his arm on his own now, and as he let go, the correct position remained. He smiled again.


    ¡°You¡¯re a quick learner,¡± he complimented lightly.


    Aryn shrugged, dropping his form. ¡°I suppose. It probably won¡¯t stick.¡±


    ¡°Well certainly not with that attitude,¡± he jested.


    Please take this seriously, Aryn. For both of our sakes.


    Noting the shift in expression on the prince¡¯s face, he decided to change the subject. ¡°How are you and Percy doing?¡±


    ¡°Quite well. His healing is continuing to be successful thankfully.¡±


    ¡°You know, I never properly thanked you, for making me his advisor,¡± he started. Aryn¡¯s deep blue eyes connected with his.  ¡°You solidified my place here at court. I¡¯m very glad to be able to stay near my sister¡¯s side. You have me in your debt.¡±


    The prince scoffed lightly. ¡°I don¡¯t do debts, Oliver. I simply thought you were the best man for the job. And I know Percy and I can trust you.¡±


    His heart sank into his stomach.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry we haven¡¯t spoken much recently,¡± Aryn continued, turning to face him straight on. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t think I was upset with you or didn¡¯t enjoy your company anymore.¡±


    ¡°Aryn, there¡¯s no apology necessary. I know you¡¯ve been busy¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes but¡­ it was rude. I should have at least communicated that to you.¡±


    He scoffed gently. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do anything for me, Aryn.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe in that philosophy. What I¡¯m trying to say is¡­¡± a hesitant expression grew on his fair features as he fidgeted with his own thumbs. ¡°I like you. You¡¯re one of my only friends. I feel safe around you, and I know I can just be myself, unapologetically. Everyone around here is so serious and stuck up. You were the first person to show me that I could actually have fun, and I don¡¯t want to lose that. I really value you, Oliver. And I¡¯m sorry that I haven¡¯t made that clear.¡±


    A quiet sigh escaped his chest. Why did he have to be so kind? He didn¡¯t deserve it, any of this. Even though none of this had been his plan, he was still part of it. And Aryn of all people did not deserve to be a pawn in his father¡¯s game. The best thing he could do was distance himself from the prince. After the last night they had spent together, he refused to be the cause of Aryn¡¯s pain.


    Or maybe distance wasn¡¯t the answer. Distance meant having no control. Maybe if he stayed close to Aryn, to Percy, he could play both parts. He could protect them.


    So instead he gave the prince a warm smile. ¡°I like you too, Aryn. And I agree. I feel as if I can be myself around you as well. You just have to promise me the three of us will get together at the estate every once in a while; we¡¯ll drink and play charades and talk about things we shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    Aryn chuckled softly, a light pink rising on his cheeks. ¡°That sounds like a wonderful idea. Deal.¡±


    As he looked at the prince, he couldn¡¯t help the deep pang of jealousy that hit his chest. Sure, at first his pursuit had been purely strategical, a calculated shot in the dark about how to rope in and control the last wildcard in his father¡¯s plan. But he¡¯d been so innocent¡­ it was nothing like he¡¯d expected when they went to his chambers. It seemed to begin to heal something in him, as preposterous and disingenuine as that sounded.


    Ever since he¡¯d entered manhood, he had been, frankly, used. He hadn¡¯t minded it at first, not really. The physical endeavors excited him, and dare he say he was pretty goddamn good at it. The first time had been an accident. A spur of the moment whim of curiosity and passion that his father had turned into an opportunity to secure more wealth and power. He was sixteen, she was fifteen¡­ He¡¯d stolen her purity. Well, not stolen. It had been given.


    She had hailed from a much more prevalent household. When her father found out, threats were made. Chaos ensued. He did not want to marry her to him; their house was deemed unworthy. The man had threatened to destroy their reputation, so in return, Father threatened to tell every noble house he knew that his daughter was ruined. No one would marry her then. Hush money was involved, status was increased, the usual works.


    And so it had began.


    So when he¡¯d taken Aryn up to that room, and he backed out, the amount of relief that had washed over him almost led him to tears. When he realized there was a different way to insert himself in the prince¡¯s life, the overwhelming guilt hanging over his head had been washed away. For the most part anyway. When Aryn had wanted to savor him, to treat him like a real human being, old wounds had been wrenched to the surface. But he¡¯d felt alive again, valued, respected.


    A selfish part of him did wish, after witnessing who the prince truly was, that it had been him. He had been given a taste of something he so desperately longed for, something he hadn¡¯t experienced in such a long time. But he knew Aryn deserved much, much better. He deserved someone who was honest, and loyal, and unconditional. And that someone was Percy.


    ¡°There you two are!¡±


    They both turned to spot him carefully limping over the frozen ground towards them. He made sure to change his expression quickly.


    ¡°Percy! I am so sorry, I didn¡¯t think it would be done so soon. I hope you didn¡¯t have trouble with the stairs,¡± he called apologetically.


    The young man chuckled lightheartedly. Well thankfully, whatever happened in there, it had gone somewhat well. ¡°It¡¯s all right. The walls held my hand for me well enough.¡±


    ¡°Well good. Don¡¯t mind us; I was just teaching His Highness here some sword technique,¡± he explained, his voice quieting more as Percy drew nearer.


    He laughed again, a warm expression on his tanned face, as he stared lovingly at Aryn. The prince looked back at him with flushed cheeks, attempting to hide his embarrassment, and that funny feeling spiked within his chest once more. He just wished for once someone would look at him that way.


    ¡°Maybe you can give me some lessons once this arm stops giving me grief.¡±


    An amused smile forced its way onto his lips. He didn¡¯t dislike the idea; Percy would certainly have an easier time grasping the concepts of sword fighting, and it would give him more opportunity to be near him, to bond with him. To protect him. And hopefully the lessons would help him protect Aryn, if it came to that.


    ¡°I would love that. Philip is far too¡­ busy with my sister to spare me a moment these days,¡± he complained in jest.


    Aryn now turned to him. ¡°How is that going, actually? I seem to be in a similar boat of being left in the dark when it comes to my brother¡¯s endeavors recently.¡±


    ¡°Quite well, apparently. Although the crown prince and my sister¡¯s marital pursuits are the last thing I wish to think about. I would much prefer perhaps debriefing on the council meeting back at your home, if that¡¯s alright with you, Percy?¡± he suggested.


    The young man nodded amicably. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not. I¡¯d rather enjoy the company, actually.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s settled,¡± Aryn jumped in. ¡°Shall we head there now or¨C¡±


    ¡°What are you boys doing out here?¡± a feminine voice called from the castle doors. ¡°It is freezing.¡±


    They all turned to spot the owner of the shouted words. His sister was dressed in a beautiful lilac dress and matching cloak, her thick, dark hair cascading down her shoulders save for the small braid that encircled her head. Darker purple gemstones dangled from her ears, and an intricate silver necklace with similar adornments rested on her upper chest. A ginormous diamond decorated her left ring finger in the shape of a teardrop (her favorite cut). He had to hand it to Philip; at least the man had learned a few things from his mother before her passing.


    A gentle smile unconsciously began to spread across his face. ¡°Doing boy things. Where¡¯s your husband?¡±


    She scoffed and rolled her hazel eyes, crossing her slender arms. ¡°With his father. I swear, that man is such a daddy¡¯s boy.¡±


    ¡°Well don¡¯t let him catch you talking about him like that.¡±


    ¡°Catch me? Brother, I¡¯ve said it to his face. The man has no shame,¡± she exclaimed exasperatedly.


    A hearty chuckle reverberated in his chest. She was nothing if not witty. ¡°Well, if you find yourself in need of company, the three of us are heading to Percy¡¯s estate. Care to join? It¡¯s been an eon since we¡¯ve gotten to spend some time together.¡±


    ¡°Oliver, it¡¯s been a week,¡± she pointed out dryly, although he could see the cheeky smirk forming on her fair face. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be honeymooning.¡±


    ¡°And yet your groom has left you for his dreary father. Please, Sister. Just one evening,¡± he begged playfully.


    A heavy, dramatic sigh escaped her chest. ¡°Fine. But I must return tonight.¡±


    This was good. If he could form bonds between the three of them, begin to create their own little circle, it would be easier. They needed to stick together. Closely.


    He gathered their blades from the ground and swiftly returned them to their respective racks, striding back over to Aryn and Percy. Clasping the larger man¡¯s shoulder, he turned and gave him a curt smile.


    ¡°I assume you have somewhere private in the house where we could discuss?¡±


    ¡°My drawing room would suffice,¡± he offered.


    A drawing room? Aryn really does love him.


    ¡°Perfect. Well, shall we?¡±


    The four of them departed from the castle and made the small trek towards Percy¡¯s new home. A fire was still blazing within the large hearth, keeping the house comfortably warm while they were away. Dahlia gasped and placed a delicate hand to her chest as they entered.


    ¡°Percy this is marvelous! Did you design this?¡±


    The former smith chuckled lightly. ¡°No, my lady, Aryn did it for me. I was a bit preoccupied stuck in my recovery bed,¡± he explained playfully.


    ¡°Wow, Aryn this is fabulous. You have such an eye for aesthetics,¡± she continued, slowly stepping into the main entrance area.


    Her dress swished rhythmically as her short heels thumped on the ornate rug occupying the wooden floor. Hazel eyes darted about, taking in the extent of the place from what she could readily see.


    ¡°I just wanted it to feel warm and quiet,¡± Aryn explained shyly.


    ¡°Well, I just might have to convince your brother to let you give our chambers a makeover.¡±


    He sauntered over next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. ¡°While you and Aryn discuss the details of that remodel, we¡¯re going to head upstairs for a moment.¡±


    ¡°Of course. We¡¯ll see you two soon,¡± she dismissed with a smile, eagerly turning to the prince before beginning to ramble excitedly about color matching.


    With a bemused smirk, he motioned to the stairs, waiting for Percy to begin his ascent. They made their way to his study slowly, and what he saw left him nothing short of impressed. Maybe even slightly moved.


    ¡°Wow this is¡­¡± he searched for words as he closed the door behind him. ¡°You are very lucky, my good sir.¡±


    Percy placed himself in the only chair. ¡°I know. I feel as if I deserve none of this.¡±


    A twinge of sadness plucked at his heart. ¡°Let¡¯s get one thing clear: out of all the people in this house right now, you are the most deserving of the current circumstances you find yourself in.¡±


    And he meant it. Contrary to his father¡¯s beliefs, he had no aspirations to be on the council. He wanted nothing to do with all of the politics and the bootlicking and scheming; he had simply been cursed with a gift for it. Percy deserved to be on the council, to be able to make change. Or at least attempt to.


    A sad smile made its way to Percy¡¯s face. ¡°Well, the council meeting was very interesting. Apparently there have been riots in the border towns, unsurprisingly. I suggested sending resources to support reestablishment efforts, and the King agreed. That was pretty much it.¡±


    He nodded in approval. ¡°Very logical reasoning. I don¡¯t understand why no one thought of it beforehand.¡±


    ¡°Not to be that way, but the council seems a bit¡­ inept at the moment. I was rather surprised,¡± Percy admitted hesitantly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not. All of the best strategic minds on the council are at the border or in Farmond, helping wage the territory war. All that¡¯s left are soft, entitled boys who haven¡¯t seen a hard day in their lives.¡±


    The former smith chuckled and pressed his lips together. ¡°That explains a lot.¡±


    ¡°Did anyone give you trouble?¡±


    Percy shrugged. ¡°Just some Benjamin Poulter. Although I metaphorically pulled his pants down in front of the entire council.¡±


    ¡°Ah, him. His family owns several mines in the hills outside of Oxmore. He thinks money buys everything.¡±


    ¡°Clearly it doesn¡¯t buy intelligence,¡± he mumbled with a smirk.


    It had rather shocked him at first just how articulated and learned Percy was. He blamed it on his own ignorance, but commoners with such education were few and far between in his experience. But he knew Aryn would never risk so much for a moron.


    ¡°No it does not,¡± he agreed with an amused smirk. ¡°Forgive me but I wanted to ask: how is everything going? Just¡­ in general. I asked Aryn, but you know how reserved he can be.¡±


    The man¡¯s face fell slightly. ¡°All things considered, my circumstances are better than they¡¯ve ever been. But¡­ I feel saddened. Angry. I know this will come to pass, but I just feel like my life is completely out of my own control. And Aryn has been so gracious and patient. It kills me that he still feels guilt for what happened. The other night, I fell and¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have snapped at him. I was just in so much pain.¡±


    He suddenly went quiet, a more guarded look in his eyes. It was clear he had admitted more than he wished to. Good. He wanted to know everything. The more he knew, the better he could keep them safe.


    Percy shook his head. ¡°But you don¡¯t need to be worrying about that. Those are our problems, not yours,¡± he smoothed over, disguising his insecurity with politeness.


    A sigh escaped his lips as he stepped closer to the former smith, and sat on the floor. The man¡¯s eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, and he could clearly read the surprise entering his green irises.


    I need him to trust me.


    ¡°You are not required to tell me anything. I understand how all of this is very personal for you. But I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I am here. Men are not always the best at asking for help.¡±


    Percy¡¯s face softened, and for a moment he truly felt appreciated.


    ¡°Thank you, Oliver. That means a lot.¡±


    He smiled back at him gently. ¡°Of course. Now, shall we go rejoin those two? I fear my sister might start rearranging your entire home if we do not hurry.¡±


    Percy chuckled lightheartedly and grabbed his crutch, situating it under his arm and pushing himself to a stand. ¡°Yes, we should.¡±


    They exited the drawing room and carefully made their way back down. The heartwarming sounds of chatter and a fire softly blazing greeted them as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Turning the corner, he spotted Dahlia and Aryn lounging in the matching armchairs. His sister was rambling on excitedly about something, her hands flailing about in front of her as she spoke. The prince was far more reserved as he sat back in his chair, one leg over the other, with a soft smile on his face.


    Her head whipped around at the sound of their approaching footsteps, and she shot to her feet with a gasp. ¡°Oh, Oliver! Come, you simply must see something in the dining room.¡±


    She scurried forward with a hand outstretched, her beautiful face filled with child-like excitement. Unable to resist, he accepted her grasp and let her drag him into the other room. It was quite a marvelous dining room: a long, dark oak table stretched most of the length of it with ornately carved legs, matching upholstered chairs, and thick mossy green curtains framing the grand window that naturally illuminated the space. But he assumed what she wanted to show him was the gigantic wine rack fixated to the wall.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one so large in my life! We have to open one,¡± she declared, turning her attention to Percy as he made his way into the dining room behind them. ¡°What better way to break in the house than sharing some wine with friends. Oh please, Percy?¡±


    The young man chuckled heartily, a wide grin spreading across his tan face. ¡°Of course, that¡¯s an excellent idea. You can pick.¡±


    Her face lit up once again as she perused the rack, settling on a glass flask that contained a deep, rich, dark red liquid. She lifted it up to the light and looked at the bottom to spot the spices that had settled. ¡°This one looks like a good winter wine. Let¡¯s do this one.¡±


    She eagerly handed it to Percy before grabbing a small hooked instrument dangling from the rack, passing that off as well. He strode over to where the wine glasses hung and procured four of them as everyone gathered around the dining table. Percy dug the hook into the cork with his left hand while gripping the bottle in his right, and with a deep, loud thunk, the cork was removed. Glasses were poured, and they all made their way back into the lounge room.


    He decided to claim one of the armchairs, along with his sister, as Percy and Aryn sat on the daybed. It was rather comical to watch as they sat as far from each other as possible. Perhaps he should tell them that Dahlia also shared differing views on the traditional concepts of relationships, after she¡¯d walked in on him with that stableboy a few years ago.


    ¡°So, Percy,¡± she began, crossing her legs as she sat back into the cushions. ¡°I have yet to know much about you. My brother tells me he¡¯s your advisor, but no one shares anything of importance with a woman. I would like to get to know the man that Oliver has been ignoring me for.¡±


    He gave her a look of playful warning, but it was met only by challenging hazel eyes. Thankfully, the former smith was a good sport, and a light chuckle escaped his broad chest.


    ¡°Well, what would you like to know?¡±


    ¡°Everything,¡± she demanded confidently, taking a sip of her wine.


    Percy raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath, following suit. ¡°Okay then. Well, I come from a long line of blacksmiths; that¡¯s what I was pursuing before my accident. I¡¯m far more passionate about art though. Let¡¯s see¡­ My favorite colors are green and blue. I have an older brother; he was drafted last year. I prefer autumn to any other season. I actually prefer cats over dogs. What else?¡±


    ¡°When¡¯s your birthday?¡± she prodded.


    ¡°The 30th of October.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not too far away from Oliver¡¯s,¡± she mentioned cheerily, taking another sip of wine.


    Now Percy turned to him, a relaxed smile on his tan face. ¡°Really? When¡¯s yours?¡±


    ¡°The 13th of November,¡± he offered. ¡°Dahlia is a sweet summer child, if you couldn¡¯t tell.¡±


    She rolled her hazel eyes playfully before turning her attention to Aryn. The prince had been sitting in comfortable silence, watching the conversation as he sipped frequently on his wine. Although he had noticed the way his blue eyes stared at Percy while he talked.


    ¡°You¡¯re just jealous you were born during a sleet storm while I got to play in the springs with Mum. And when is your birthday, Aryn?¡±


    He glanced up from his glass and blinked a couple times, his mind clearly residing elsewhere at the moment. The boy was always so inward. ¡°Oh, uhm, I was also a summer baby. 25th of June.¡±


    ¡°I knew it,¡± she declared. ¡°You have the right temperament.¡±


    ¡°Oh Dahlia please, not with this sun and moon nonsense again,¡± he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Someone take away her wine.¡±


    Aryn¡¯s brow furrowed as a curious, confused smile found its way to his lips. ¡°What nonsense?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¨C¡± he started. It was too late.


    Dahlia leaned forward in her chair, a new sense of fervor coming over her. ¡°So there¡¯s this thought concept that, depending on when you¡¯re born, it determines aspects of your personality, who you are. It has something to do with the alignment and location of the sun, moon, and stars at the time of birth, and there are patterns to it. So take late June for instance: you¡¯re deeply emotional, sometimes irrationally so, introspective and quite reserved, empathetic. You tend to internalize, taking a bit too much to heart things that maybe people say about you or point out.¡±


    Aryn¡¯s face began to turn red as he took a deep drink of his wine.


    ¡°And you, Percy, are not horribly different from my brother, at your cores. But on the outside, your extrinsic personalities are very different,¡± she went on excitedly. ¡°I feel I can safely assume that you are very protective, mayhaps a bit stubborn and headstrong, and are very intense and passionate about the things you care for. Correct?¡±


    A disbelieving smile grew on the young man¡¯s face. ¡°Well¡­ yes, you¡¯d be correct. How do you know all of this? It seems like witchcraft to me,¡± he pointed out playfully.


    ¡°No, not witchcraft. Just the combination of astronomy and studying people,¡± she explained cheekily, taking another sip of wine.


    ¡°And Oliver?¡± he prompted, a smirk growing on his face as his green eyes flicked towards him.


    She grinned deviously. ¡°Well, he has similarities to you, in terms of intensity and passion, and he¡¯s too protective in my opinion¨C¡±


    ¡°Hush.¡±


    ¡°But while your charisma stems from your openness and warmth, my brother¡¯s charm is¡­ well, you¡¯ve all seen him.¡±


    ¡°Mysterious and broody?¡± Aryn chimed in, giving him a smirk behind his glass.


    ¡°He can also be such a spiteful little creature. I mean seriously, I have never known someone to hold a grudge longer than him. I remember one time, there was this stupid boy who had embarrassed me when I was nine, nine. Called me ugly, made me cry. And the next time we saw him, some eight years later I think? Oliver walked right up to him, without a word. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen someone drop to the ground from a punch so fast¨C¡±


    ¡°Alright, I think they get it, Sister. I¡¯m an insolent bastard. Could we move on from hypothesising about the stars?¡±


    She pouted mockingly at him. ¡°You¡¯re no fun. Fine, what shall we do instead?¡±


    ¡°Oliver had mentioned playing charades earlier,¡± Aryn suggested as he reached for the glass flask on the low, oval-shaped table situated in the middle of the room.


    ¡°Oh I love charades!¡± she squealed excitedly. ¡°Should we do teams? I want to play with Percy.¡±


    The former smith chuckled shyly at her eagerness. ¡°Sure, I don¡¯t mind doing teams.¡±


    ¡°Dahlia why don¡¯t you start?¡± Aryn offered as he sunk into the cushions a bit more, clearly less confident in the game than she was.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she answered, rising from her chair to stand in front of the others.


    Wine glass in hand, she cleared her throat. After a moment, she began to move animatedly, attempting to act out whatever word or scenario had come to mind. Percy¡¯s face was plastered in concentration and a bit of confusion, but when she began imitating a sawing motion, he sat upright.


    ¡°Oh, lumberer?¡± he shouted.


    ¡°Yes!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Okay, Oliver it''s your turn.¡±


    He sighed and hoisted himself up from the chair, meandering to the center of the room. What was something Aryn would be able to get? He began to imitate the act of eating.


    ¡°Oh, okay uh¡­ food, eating?¡±


    Then he stretched and yawned.


    ¡°Uhm¡­ Oh! Breakfast?¡± he shouted out uncertainly.


    He smiled and nodded, going to sit back down. Aryn¡¯s skin flushed slightly; even the act of raising his voice was uncommon territory for him. He watched as Percy nudged him reassuringly, giving him a soft smile before he went to refill his glass. Dahlia giggled from her chair.


    ¡°You two are adorable.¡±


    They both froze and whipped their heads towards her, their faces going pale, which only caused her to giggle more as she covered her mouth. ¡°Sorry, the wine has made me bold, it seems. You two are¡­ partnered, are you not?¡±


    Now they looked in his direction, either sporting very different expressions. He smiled coyly and lowered his eyes, swirling his wine glass. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything, I promise.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve no need to worry,¡± she butted in, reaching out a hand in an attempt to settle them. ¡°I just have a knack for spotting such things. I¡¯ve learned the hard way from my brother. He¡¯ll bed anything as long as it¡¯s pretty¨C¡±


    ¡°Dahlia,¡± he warned.


    She pressed her lips together shyly and sat back in her chair. ¡°I kind of figured when you told me you had put together this entire place for him,¡± she explained sheepishly, her words directed at Aryn. ¡°Men do not do that for other male friends. And I promise I will not tell your brother, Aryn. I may be his wife, but that is simply none of his business.¡±


    Their demeanors relaxed as Percy shifted himself closer to the prince now. ¡°Well, thank you, Dahlia. It¡¯s nice to have more friends we don¡¯t have to pretend around. We should all get together often. I¡¯m quite enjoying this evening,¡± the former smith stated with a warm smile.


    Aryn proceeded to lean his shoulder against Percy¡¯s, turning his body towards him more. The way they gravitated towards each other pulled at his heart. They truly were meant for each other. He could easily see that Percy was his peace. Whenever the two were together, Aryn was different. Or maybe just more confidently himself. And the hardness that he could tell had been instilled in Percy seemed to melt away when he was near the prince.


    Fuck my father.


    ¡°Oh my goodness, so am I,¡± Dahlia declared. ¡°This is the most fun I¡¯ve had in months. Shall we continue our game?¡±


    They all nodded in agreement, and thus spent the better part of the evening miming and talking and laughing and drinking. In between it all, Percy and Aryn snuck small intimacies, whether it was kisses of the cheek or the murmurings of secret words of adoration in each other¡¯s ears. Even just the way they looked at one another sometimes felt as if they were intruding. As he and Dahlia departed, saying their goodbyes and wishing the two a good night, a horrible pit formed in his stomach as he wondered just how many good days they all had left.

 Seventeen

    The soft clopping of hooves created a steady, calm rhythm as he rode along the small dirt path. This view was unarguably much more beautiful when the world was alive, but something about the rolling hills covered in snow brought him peace. It was a vast expanse of glittering white, seemingly untouched and undisturbed. Quiet.


    He usually came out here by himself, only Dancer to keep him company, but another horse and rider sauntered along with him this time.


    After today''s council meeting, Philip had come knocking at his chamber door. Not much was explained save for that he wanted to go for a ride and talk. He was unsure what had spurred this on, but he was nothing if not curious about what his brother wanted. It had been the better part of a half hour since they¡¯d departed from the castle, and not a word had been spoken. Maybe something had happened between him and Father.


    An inhalation of breath broke the silence, and Philip¡¯s face displayed discomfort, maybe even what could be construed as pain.


    ¡°Aryn, I¡­ how are you doing?¡±


    His question was clearly not the words he truly wished to say. Immense confusion, mixed with a more subtle layer of anxiety, began to fill his own head.


    ¡°I am well. How is everything with you, Brother?¡±


    Philip suddenly turned in his saddle. ¡°Aryn, I want to apologize.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± he prompted, brows furrowed. The past few weeks had gone by uneventfully since the wedding. The two of them hadn¡¯t butted heads in an impressive amount of time. He thought everything had been going quite well¡­


    ¡°Just¡­ for everything. For being a shit brother, I suppose. I haven¡¯t been able to stop thinking about the day of the hunt, what you told me. And now that everything has begun to settle, I¡¯ve had more time to reflect. Did you know that when Dahlia returned to me last week, she could not stop going on about you? She adores you. And all I was thinking in that moment was, ¡®why? What could she possibly see in Aryn?¡¯ And then I realized just how utterly fucked up that was.


    I think¡­ mayhaps Father has been rubbing off on me too much, especially with Mum gone. We used to be so close, and now it feels as if we¡¯re almost complete strangers. And I know now that that has been mainly my fault. You were right; I¡¯ve been so nearsighted on my birthright that I¡¯ve neglected everything else. And I suppose that when I saw just how good of friends you and Percy are¡­ Well, I was jealous. And instead of self-reflecting, I blamed it on someone else. But seeing Percy in the council chamber this past week¡­ I finally understood. It was I who was being selfish, and ignorant, and narrow-minded.


    Anyway, my point is¡­ I am sorry, Aryn. I¡¯m sorry for not being there for you after Mum passed. I¡¯m sorry for not trying harder to understand you. And I¡¯m sorry I haven¡¯t been the older brother you deserve.¡±


    Tears stung in his blue eyes as he stared at his brother. Then something shocking: Philip¡¯s deep brown irises began to shimmer. He couldn¡¯t even remember the last time he saw him cry, maybe when they were kids. Of course he had been horribly sullen after Mother passed, but never once did he see Philip shed a tear during that dark time.


    It was hard. They had been so at odds for so long that he hadn¡¯t even thought of the possibility of this moment. Some small, bitter part of him didn¡¯t want to forgive him. And maybe he wouldn¡¯t, not fully. But this was unprecedented, and the tears in Philip¡¯s eyes told him everything he needed to know about his sincerity.


    ¡°Could we just try to start over? Go back to how we used to be, as boys,¡± he suggested, ashen hair being tossed gently in the chilled breeze.


    ¡°I would love that. Dahlia and I are hosting our first ball at the castle tonight; it would make both of us very happy if you attended. Invite Percy, too. He should start to get involved socially and needs to make connections.¡±


    ¡°That sounds wonderful, of course I¡¯ll come,¡± he agreed with a soft smile. ¡°I¡¯ll let him know.¡±


    A more pensive expression settled on Philip¡¯s face as he took in the landscape. His full, wavy brown hair housed tiny specks of snowflakes, and as he sat atop his beautiful black Friesian, he could tell something else still weighed on the crown prince¡¯s mind.


    ¡°You never really told me much about how you and Percy came to be friends.¡±


    ¡°Well, I accidentally broke into the tavern he used to work at, and we just hit it off, I guess¨C¡±


    Neatly trimmed eyebrows furrowed curiously in his direction. ¡°You broke in somewhere?¡± The disbelief in his voice almost gave him offense.


    ¡°The door was unlocked and I thought they were open,¡± he shot back defensively, although contrary to his tone a coy smile began to spread on his lips. ¡°He was about to pull a knife on me until I explained myself.¡±


    Philip laughed, his tone warm and amused. ¡°That would have been a very bad day for him.¡±


    ¡°Yes it would have,¡± he concurred, a small smirk gracing his fair face.


    Rich brown eyes glanced over at him again, his expression once again settling into a more serious one.


    ¡°I suppose I just don¡¯t really understand your relationship. My friendships are just not the same, though I have many. Maybe that¡¯s why I disliked the man at first.¡±


    His own expression softened. ¡°Pardon my saying so, Brother, but I do not think you possess many real friendships. Not to your own fault but¡­ the primary reason most of those young men are your friend is because you¡¯re next in line. All they see you as is an opportunity; Percy sees me as a person. He never cared about who my father is. Maybe you need to find someone who wants your company simply because of who you are, not who you¡¯re going to be.¡±


    Philip sat in silence for a long moment, thoughts flickering behind rich brown eyes, as he stared into the distance and watched the sunlight sparkle on the untouched snow. He knew it was not something his brother wanted to hear. But he needed to.


    ¡°You may not be wrong. Many times I do feel as if I am completely alone, even though I am surrounded by others. But how does one acquire those types of friends? True friends?¡±


    The tone of his voice seemed genuinely helpless, a sad frustration clearly bubbling up in his broad chest. His Friesian snorted and tossed its large head as they clopped along.


    ¡°Well¡­ You might not like the idea, but I genuinely believe you and Percy have a lot more in common than you might think. And perhaps try to make more of an effort with Oliver; you did marry his sister after all, and I know he enjoys your company as well. He missed sparring with you last week.¡±


    A small, warm smile spread across his brother¡¯s face as he glanced down at his horse¡¯s neck. ¡°I do like Percy, Aryn. He¡¯s been the only person in years besides Father to put me in my place, to not give a horse¡¯s arse that I have a crown on my head. And you¡¯re right. I should make more time for Oliver, seeing that he is our brother-in-law now. Family is important, even if it¡¯s not by blood. Well, yet.¡±


    ¡°Yet?¡±


    His question hung in the frozen air for a moment, and he could feel his neck heating up as Philip looked at him with a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°My dear brother, you do know what happens when people marry, don¡¯t you?¡±


    He shoved him in his saddle. ¡°Well, yes, I¡¯m not an idiot. It¡¯s just that¡­ it¡¯s been less than a month. How could you know yet?¡±


    ¡°Well, we don¡¯t. Not until another fortnight or so.¡±


    His brows crinkled at the discomfort settling in his chest. ¡°And you want that to happen so soon?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Yes, why not?¡± Philip challenged, chuckling lightly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ don¡¯t you maybe want to enjoy it being just you two for a little while? You know, actually get to know each other but you have this huge responsibility to take care of?¡±


    ¡°I need to produce an heir, Aryn¨C¡±


    ¡°I understand that, but you¡¯re not King yet. All I¡¯m saying is you maybe should enjoy being just two young people in love until you actually need to fulfill that duty. Once it happens, you can never go back.¡±


    Philip did not open his mouth immediately this time. It was rare that he ever got him to listen to him, but maybe this turning over of a new leaf also included not casting his brother¡¯s opinions aside. As nauseating as it was for him to admit, Philip and Dahlia really did pair perfectly together, and he wanted them to be able to have what he and Percy did for as long as possible. No expectations, no duty¡­ just love.


    ¡°When did you get so wise?¡± he questioned jokingly.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always been pretty wise, Philip, you just haven¡¯t listened to me,¡± he playfully shot back.


    ¡°I suppose I better start then, huh?¡±


    A gentle breeze blew at their faces as they turned to look at each other, and warm, hopeful smiles slowly spread across them. He shivered at the cold and shrunk into himself more, his grey-blue coat only able to do so much to keep out the biting wind.


    ¡°We should head back before we freeze.¡±


    ¡°Ah, more sound wisdom.¡±


    They both chuckled softly and turned their horses, making their way back towards the castle. The stableboys collected their beasts, and he bid Philip a quick goodbye before heading towards Percy¡¯s home. Turning the lock in its place, he was surprised to find the tumblers were already unlocked. He cautiously swung the door open, peeking his head in as a sense of worry began to well within his chest.


    But instead he spotted Percy seated in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, speaking to a man and woman who occupied the daybed. The back of the man¡¯s head was covered in dark brown hair streaked with grey, and the woman possessed tight curls with a bit lighter of color. As the door latched into place with a quiet thunk, they all quickly turned to see who had entered the home.


    ¡°Aryn,¡± Percy greeted, a pleasantly surprised smile on his tan, handsome face. He stood from his armchair and made his way over to him, without a crutch. ¡°Mum, Pa, this is Aryn Stewart. I know you and Dad have met before, but it¡¯s been some time.¡±


    His parents suddenly shot to their feet, his father giving him a low bow while his mother curtsied deeply. It was his father who spoke up first.


    ¡°Your Highness, it is such a wonderful honor to see you again. I cannot thank you enough for everything you¡¯ve done, for both our family and for Percy.¡±


    His mother smiled so warmly at him that it made his chest ache. Percy¡¯s father sported a similarly shaped smile as his son, and seeing all three of them, he was finally able to put the hereditary pieces together, so to speak. His mother had the most brilliant emerald eyes, and surprisingly she was a bit more tan than her husband. But his face shape and stature, he had known, certainly came from his father.


    He stepped up to them, offering an equally warm smile in return. ¡°Well, you all deserve it, and then some. Percy has been an invaluable friend to me, and his progress on the council in such a short time has been nothing short of remarkable. And please, just call me Aryn from now on. My friendship extends to you both as well.¡±


    He reached a slender hand out to Percy¡¯s father. Though there was hesitation, the man took it and clasped his other over top. He knew his father was not the most emotional man, but he could tell he was moved by the gesture. Next he took his mother¡¯s hand and clasped it in his, and with a bow of her head, she gave him another sickeningly sweet smile. It was a smile only a mother could have.


    ¡°We have been so blessed by your generous spirit, Your Hi¨CAryn. I pray you do not take offense but¡­ well, Matthias and I wish to remain at our original home, continuing to run our business.¡±


    ¡°There is no offense to be had, ma¡¯am. That is your home, your livelihood. I would never expect you to abandon it. I am so sorry, I do not know your name,¡± he prompted gently.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s Isabelle. My apologies, how rude of me,¡± she laughed with an embarrassed smile, placing a hand on her chest.


    ¡°No, it was rude of me not to ask earlier,¡± he argued, offering her a small smile in return. ¡°But I did wish to ask you both for something: your forgiveness.¡±


    Both of their faces warped in confusion and concern.


    ¡°I had asked Percy to join us for the wedding hunt. The blame for his accident rests with me. I know how promising his skill was and what that meant for your family.¡±


    Matthias sighed as he crossed his muscular arms, a paternal expression taking over his face. ¡°The only thing to blame is that stupid pig, Your Highness. And it was like you said: an accident. Unless you were in cahoots with the boar,¡± he pointed out in jest.


    He couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°No, I do not like pigs rather much. There was no cross-species scheming to be had, that I can assure you.¡±


    The room lit up with the sound of light laughter, and as he finally looked at Percy, he could see the happiness, the pride and contentment in his green eyes. He only wished he could embrace him at that moment.


    ¡°Percy, I came to tell you that Philip has invited you to the ball he and Dahlia are hosting tonight.¡±


    His dark eyebrows shot up. ¡°Me? A Ball?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you. A ball. I believe he wishes to get to know you better. And besides, it¡¯ll be a great opportunity to get to know more people around here. People you are now working with.¡±


    Isabelle clasped her hands together excitedly. ¡°Darling, that¡¯s wonderful! If the crown prince has asked for you, you must go.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the first thing about proper dancing or¡­ or any of that,¡± he pointed out, panic beginning to creep into his voice.


    ¡°Oh, well I¡¯m sure Aryn could show you some basics. It¡¯ll be fine, dear¨C¡±


    ¡°Listen to your mother, boy. It¡¯d be a great insult not to go. You¡¯ve been invited, personally, by Prince Philip. That¡¯s not something that warrants discussion.¡±


    Percy sighed heavily, pressing his lips together, and he had to try hard to keep himself from laughing. For everything he saw Percy as, at the end of the day, he was simply just somebody¡¯s son. And from this little encounter, he could tell that they had a wonderful family. He supposed it helped when life was simpler, when all you had to worry about was making sure everyone was taken care of.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll get out of your hair. It seems you have a lot to do before this ball,¡± Matthias concluded. ¡°We look forward to seeing you again, Aryn. And once again, thank you.¡±


    They shook hands once more, and a wave of warmth passed through his chest. He placed a brief kiss atop Isabelle¡¯s hand before Percy saw them out the door. As they bid each other goodbye, he gave each of them a long, tight hug. A lump began to form in his throat as he watched him and his father embrace.


    Locking the door behind them, Percy turned to look at him with an expression that was riddled with worry. ¡°What do we do now?¡±


    A coy smirk grew on his face. ¡°We teach you how to dance.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Okay, do you know how to waltz?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    He let his hands drop dramatically to his sides as he stared at Percy with blatant incredulity. ¡°You don¡¯t know what a waltz is?¡±


    ¡°I could tell you about different types of metals.¡±


    Fingers came to pinch the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, sighing heavily with a shake of his head. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I love you. Alright just¡­ bring your arms up.¡±


    Percy lifted his muscular arms awkwardly, letting them suspend in the air. He grabbed at his wrists and proceeded to place his large hands on him in the correct positions: one on his hip and the other grasping his own hand.


    ¡°Okay, so you¡¯re going to step in three¡¯s. Your first foot is going to go in the direction you want to move¨C¡± he stepped his right foot sideways¨C ¡°And the other comes to meet it. The third step is really just to shift your feet, so you¡¯ll step on the first foot again but more so in place so you can shift your weight and head in a different direction. Then you will lead with your left foot, and so on.¡±


    Percy scrunched his face together and blinked, shaking his head. ¡°Hold on, that¡¯s five too many directions for me at once.¡±


    ¡°Percy, it was three steps.¡±


    ¡°Yes but it was more than three sentences.¡±


    He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. ¡°Is this really what you want me to murder you over?¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Tell me if I¡¯m doing it right.¡±


    It was a bit clunky, but as he acted out the steps, they were correct. The skin on his hip tingled as fingers made their way beneath his shirt.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. Now try to make it smoother.¡±


    They spent the better part of an hour learning various steps, and by the end of it Percy had learned an impressive five dances. Although now they were both a bit sweaty. A bath would certainly be in order before they donned anything adjacent to fine clothes.


    ¡°Great. I¡¯m going to head back to the castle and get cleaned up. I¡¯ll come get you in a couple hours.¡±


    ¡°What should I wear?¡± he asked anxiously.


    A coy smile formed on his lips. ¡°There are a few things I got for you in the master bedroom that should work. I have faith.¡±


    Percy sighed and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m trusting you. I¡¯ll see you in a bit, love.¡±


    He strode forward and bent down slightly, placing a gentle kiss to his lips as he tilted his chin upward. A quiet finally settled over his soul as their mouths touched, and he found himself deepening the kiss while he tangled his fingers in Percy¡¯s curls. He felt him smile against his lips as a thumb brushed along his jaw.


    ¡°We have things to do, Aryn¡­¡±


    He forced himself to pull away, but wasn¡¯t happy about it. Just for once he wished time would stop for a bit, that they were the only people to exist.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll see you soon.¡±


    A soft smirk grew on Percy¡¯s lips. ¡°Counting on it.¡±

 Eighteen

    He could hear the dull roar of the crowd behind the immense wooden doors. The last time they had been in this hall was Philip and Dahlia¡¯s wedding, but that had been much more structured, and a lot less eyes focused on him. Tonight he¡¯d just stay close to his brother, and hopefully Oliver would be there too. As he turned to look at Percy, he could tell he was also nervous, of which he had every right to be. He wasn¡¯t sure which was more nerve wracking for him: his first council meeting or this.


    But one thing was for certain. He looked heartbreakingly handsome.


    He had gone with an all black ensemble for tonight, not wanting to stick out. The form-fitting doublet he wore possessed a subtle pattern of leaves and vines sewn into it with shimmering thread. If there were a crown upon his head, he¡¯d unarguably look the part of a prince.


    Subsequently, he had dressed himself in a light grey variation of similar garments, fine patterns of silver silk thread adorning the fabric. He sported darker grey pants and boots, and, most noticeably, his crown. It was a relatively simple piece of work, smaller than Philip¡¯s, that was made of silver metal and inlaid with dark blue gemstones. He had never liked how it felt on his head, but on a night like tonight, it would stir horrible gossip if he had foregone wearing it.


    Two guards stood watch at the doors, both bowing deeply to him as they approached. With a deep breath, he nodded towards them, and they pushed open the double door. The noise of the ball suddenly slammed into his ears, and it took everything in him not to turn around and head to his chambers as that subtle suffocating feeling began to invade his chest.


    The caller turned to him and went to open his mouth, but he reached out a quick hand. ¡°No need to interrupt the festivities, sir. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Your Highness.¡±


    His blue eyes scanned across the crowd for anyone he recognized. Towards the back, he caught a glimpse of dark red, and a weight began to lift from his chest as he spotted Oliver lurking by a table. The heels of his boots clicked on the marble floor as he quickly strode in that direction, Percy following closely behind. Elegant music, crafted to have a conversation over, was drifting from an unknown spot in the great hall; the dancing would not start until Philip and Dahlia arrived.


    On the path towards his new brother-in-law, his eyes darted about, scanning the crowd as they passed. Most of these people he did not recognize, but there were a few faces closer to his age that did harbor familiarity. The back of his neck grew hot as one young lady in particular caught his gaze and moved into their path. Sporting a beautiful icy blue dress and diamond jewelry, her similarly colored eyes sparkled with nervous excitement as she curtsied deeply, her blonde curls bouncing.


    ¡°Prince Aryn. It has been quite a long time, has it not?¡± she prompted in greeting, flashing perfectly white teeth.


    He returned the smile, although not as ambitiously, and gave her a polite nod. ¡°Lady Serissa. Not since our tutoring days, I believe. Goodness that was a while ago, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Suddenly his father¡¯s voice invaded his head.


    ¡°If you are to begin making demands of this family, you must in turn start to take your role seriously.¡±


    She giggled breathily, her nervousness abundantly clear. ¡°Yes, it was. You are certainly not a boy anymore, Your Highness. Dare I say you are looking very handsome tonight. Might we have a dance later? I¡¯ve been itching to get out onto the floor; this winter has been dreadfully boring.¡±


    He could feel Percy staring at him, and a horrible sense of guilt began to wash over him. It was just a dance¡­ He had to uphold appearances, for both of them. Maybe he could redirect.


    ¡°I rather wish mine had been boring,¡± Percy chimed in, an easy smile on his tan face.


    Serissa glanced over at him curiously, light blue eyes blinking, as she suddenly seemed hyper aware of how her dress was settling on her. ¡°Forgive me, sir, I do not believe we are familiar.¡±


    Percy reached out a hand and took hers, placing a quick kiss atop the back of it as was customary. ¡°We are not. Percy Lancaster, my lady.¡±


    Her face suddenly lit up at the name. He had to fight to keep his expression neutral as he caught the flush that began to rise on her powdered cheeks.


    ¡°Oh my goodness, you¡¯re the commoner the King appointed to the council? Why I never expected you to¡­ well, look like that.¡±


    A warm chuckle rumbled in his broad chest as his smile widened. ¡°Well we aren¡¯t all goblins and trolls, Lady Serissa.¡±


    Her fair face began to turn red, and she flicked her fan open.


    ¡°I apologize, sir, that must have seemed quite ignorant of me. I simply meant that, even for nobility¡¯s standards, you present quite the image.¡±


    ¡°Well thank you, my lady. You¡¯re too kind. So you and Prince Aryn went to school together?¡±


    Another shy, endearing smile spread across her rouged lips. ¡°Yes, we had the same tutor. I am embarrassed to admit the amount of times he helped me; arithmetic was never a strong suit of mine,¡± she divulged with another timid laugh. ¡°His Highness has always been so intelligent. I prefer a man with more brains, but you boys always seem to think brawn is everything.¡±


    ¡°Well, I would have to agree with you there. Brute strength will only get you so far,¡± Percy agreed amicably. ¡°It seems you have a good head on your shoulders, my lady.¡±


    She blushed. ¡°Thank you, Percy. Forgive me, the other ladies seem to be asking for my return. We will talk later, I hope?¡± she eluded as her blue eyes glanced between both of them.


    ¡°Of course,¡± they both said politely in unison.


    A shy, closed-lip smile spread across her face as she gave another curtsy in departure. Continuing on their path, he turned to Percy with a smirk.


    ¡°You never told me you were good at talking to women.¡±


    ¡°I just tell them what my mum says they like,¡± he explained with a shrug, his face sporting a mischievous grin.


    He laughed quietly under the music, heels continuing to click rhythmically as they made their way towards Oliver. Without further interruption, they thankfully reached the table where refreshments had been generously stacked. The nobleman turned as he heard their approach, and a relieved smile lit up his angular face.


    ¡°There you two are! Thank God. I feel like a cow at auction. I¡¯ve already had four women come and bother me, four. I got here not even a half hour ago.¡±


    Oliver handed each of them a glass of wine, that of which he drank from immediately. The consistent droning of conversation was beginning to sound like a horde of flies buzzing over carcasses. Everything about balls or royal gatherings was just too much. It set his nerves on fire and left him feeling drained of life. He could never understand how things like this filled his brother with such energy and joy.


    ¡°Presenting His Royal Highness, heir to the throne, First of his name, and future King of Westgarde: Prince Philip Stewart! And his wife, eldest daughter of House Farrington, the beautiful Princess Dahlia Stewart!¡±


    All activity in the great hall ceased as every single head turned towards the door. The room was quiet as the caller shouted their titles, but as soon as his mouth closed, the space exploded with cheers and excited chatter. As Philip and Dahlia made their way through the crowd, the sea of bodies rippled in a wave with a succession of bowing and curtsying. A broad smile lit up his brother¡¯s face as he waved and greeted everyone who was brave enough to address him directly.


    He watched the faces in the crowd, listened to the joyful chatter in the air. Not a single person in the room looked unhappy, and they all were looking towards Philip. It filled his chest with a strange sense of pride, of hope. At that moment, he knew.


    You¡¯re going to make a wonderful king, Brother.


    Finally the two made their way to the dias, and immediately upon arrival Dahlia embraced her brother, a huge grin on her face. It was beautiful to see just how happy she was; he was glad that she and Philip had found each other.


    A hand smacked down on his shoulder, causing him to jump. ¡°Brother, you made it!¡±


    He turned to receive Philip with a small smile.


    ¡°Of course I did. You asked me to come, so I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Well you look great. And Percy! Goodness, do you clean up well, my man.¡±


    A laugh made its way out of his lover¡¯s chest. ¡°So I¡¯ve been told. Although you may need to watch me carefully. I fear I might overheat in these stuffy clothes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep an eye on you,¡± Philip answered back playfully, clasping Percy on his left arm.


    Although he could be considered fully healed, there was still a large amount of tenderness trapped beneath Percy¡¯s skin. He smiled slightly as his brother took care enough to remember.


    ¡°Oliver, so good of you to join us. It¡¯s great to see you, my brother.¡±


    The nobleman smiled back at Philip, taking his hand. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, Philip.¡±


    ¡°Percy,¡± Dahlia started, pushing her way past her husband. ¡°After Philip is done stepping on my toes for this first dance, would you do me the honor of joining me for the second one?¡±


    His brother scoffed dramatically. ¡°Excuse me! If I do recall, it was you who drove your heel into my foot on our wedding night, darling.¡±


    ¡°Only because your timing was off,¡± she shot back, smirking at him deviously.


    Philip rolled his eyes, but his expression conveyed very different emotions as he stepped forward and slung his arm around Dahlia¡¯s waist, pulling her in close to his side as he planted a kiss to her cheek.


    ¡°Mhm, whatever you say. Come, we must address our guests. Then you can step on my toes all night long.¡±


    The two disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, leaving the three of them to fend for themselves. And so they lingered and talked and drank, enjoying each other¡¯s company. Eventually the first dance of the night commenced, and he watched as Philip expertly whisked his bride across the dance floor. The music was slow and grand, giving room for elaborate movements and occasionally more intimate moments. But soon the song shifted and picked up pace, sporting a far more jaunty tune, and he couldn¡¯t fight the grin on his face as Dahlia scurried over to where they stood, reaching a hand out to Percy as the rest of the attendees surged onto the floor.


    ¡°Well come on!¡± she shouted over the lutes and the drums.


    Percy pressed his lips together nervously, but finally took her hand and was dragged out to the floor with what appeared to be a surprising amount of force. His cheeks began to hurt as he watched them bounce across the marble, a warmth expanding in his chest at the huge grin on Percy¡¯s face. Every once in a while, Dahlia had to lead him, but it made for a far more entertaining display.


    His heart was happy.


    ¡°What is it doing here?¡±


    Turning with a furrowed brow, he spotted¡­ oh Jesus Christ preserve him.


    Dressed even more elaborately than he was, Benjamin stood by one of the refreshment tables, followed by a small group of other unbearably pompous young men. They all sipped generously at their wine as they stared Percy down, snickering behind their cups. He could feel his skin grow hot, and his hand twitched into a fist.


    There was no gentle way of putting it. Benjamin had ruthlessly bullied him when they were children, even into their teenage years. And whenever he had told his father of it, his reply had been simple yet horribly cruel.


    ¡°He only targets you because you are weak. Stop being weak, Aryn.¡±


    ¡°How much do you want to bet he¡¯s borrowing those clothes?¡± he sniggered, eliciting another bout of laughter from his posse.


    He took a step forward.


    ¡°Aryn¡­¡±


    Oliver¡¯s voice was low and quiet, but he had caught him by the arm. ¡°Just let him be a miserable little twat. Don¡¯t pay him mind.¡±


    Thoughts raced through his mind, memories flashing of unbearable feelings of shame. And now he was looking down on Percy¡­


    ¡°Fuck that.¡±


    He wrenched his arm free of his grasp and descended from the dias, striding towards the gaggle of dickwads. They all turned with surprise, but at least they had the sense to incline their heads at him. Benjamin¡¯s face lit up with fake amiableness.


    ¡°Prince Aryn! My, I haven¡¯t seen you around in a while. Been busy braiding your horse¡¯s hair?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he twisted his face in a mocking, closed-lip smile. ¡°A joy as always, Benjamin. Tell me, when was the last time your father paid his taxes in full? I could always speak to my father, clear up the¨C¡±


    The pretense dropped immediately.


    ¡°Is there a reason you¡¯re bothering me, Princess?¡±


    ¡°If you are going to be disrespectful to my brother¡¯s guests, I must ask you to leave.¡±


    He was surprised at the sternness in his own tone. As he attempted to strengthen his voice, the other young men began snickering behind Benjamin¡¯s back.


    ¡°Last I checked, it¡¯s your brother¡¯s ball. If he has a problem with me, he can ask me to leave himself. Besides, that street rat shouldn¡¯t even be here anyway¨C¡±


    ¡°You will not speak of him that way.¡±


    ¡°Or what?¡± he challenged, stepping closer to him. ¡°You¡¯ll tell Daddy on me? Last I heard, he doesn¡¯t even acknowledge you anymore.¡±


    ¡°Well last I heard, that street rat is about to put you out of a council position.¡±


    Benjamin lunged forward slightly, rage and disgust flickering in his eyes. But even with his heart racing, he planted his feet and lifted his chin defiantly.


    ¡°I know it was you who wormed him in there. He doesn¡¯t belong here. What did he do to earn it, huh? Did he suck your tiny little pri¨C¡±


    The man stumbled backwards as his hands connected with his chest, nearly falling on his arse before reaching a hand out to catch himself. The immediate crowd around them gasped quietly and went silent, a small circle naturally forming around them as others withdrew themselves.


    He couldn¡¯t help himself as he closed the distance. Blood rushed in his ears, and his face twisted into a cold scowl. Benjamin seemed too shocked to stand up immediately.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you belong here,¡± he declared, his voice uncharacteristically low. ¡°Get. Out.¡±


    Benjamin pushed himself to his feet, an incredulous look plastered on his face.


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell me¨C¡±


    ¡°Oh I can and I will. I am your prince. And come tomorrow you will never step foot in that council chamber again.¡±


    ¡°What is going on here?¡±


    Philip¡¯s warm voice now presided over the building tension as he stepped up to them. His brown eyes glanced between him and Benjamin, concerned confusion filling them.


    ¡°Benjamin was just leaving.¡±


    ¡°I am a guest, I was invited here,¡± he growled. ¡°Philip, tell your baby brother that he cannot simply banish me because¨C¡±


    ¡°My baby brother is your prince as well, Benjamin. Now you will tell me what the cause of this disturbance is, or you will depart from my ball.¡±


    Outraged disbelief twisted the man¡¯s features. ¡°He is upset because I dislike his¡­ commoner friend. I do not know who would invite such filth here in the first place¨C¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Philip stated sternly. ¡°And Percy is my friend as well. You think he would be dancing with my wife if he were not welcome among my family?¡±


    Benjamin scoffed. ¡°He should not be welcome among any of our¨C¡±


    ¡°Mind yourself, sir.¡± It was Father¡¯s voice that came from Philip¡¯s mouth as he stared him down, his brown eyes losing their warmth. ¡°I do believe you have overstayed your welcome. Now you can leave my hall, or I can remove you.¡±


    The man¡¯s dull brown eyes flicked between him and Philip, calculating the situation. Dahlia and Percy had now made their way over. His expression devolved into stubborn pride as he soon noticed the amount of people staring at him, and he smoothed out his clothes aggressively.


    ¡°Rather poor excuse for a ball anyway,¡± he muttered bitterly before turning and storming out of the hall.


    He jumped as a hand clasped his shoulder, adrenaline coursing through his veins.


    ¡°I will have Father remove him from the council first thing tomorrow morning,¡± Philip declared quietly, his head close to his own. ¡°Did you put him on his arse?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good lad.¡±


    The hand tightened on his shoulder as his brother gave him a hearty shake, and he couldn¡¯t hold back the proud smirk forming on his lips before he turned to spot Percy striding towards him.


    ¡°What was all that?¡± he asked worriedly. ¡°Did he put his hands on you?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m all right. He was just being a miserable fool, so I treated him like one. He won¡¯t be bothering you at the council meetings anymore.¡±


    He could feel the tension in the air, Percy¡¯s desire to touch him and make sure everything was okay. But there were still an uncomfortable amount of eyes on the devolving situation. So instead he turned to Dahlia and offered his arm.


    ¡°It seems I have some adrenaline to wear off. May I?¡± he asked playfully.


    She smiled back at him with an equally mischievous grin and snatched his arm up. ¡°Only if you can keep up, little brother.¡±


    They danced more than one song together, and through it all, he was surprised at just how relaxed he felt. Dahlia was a cheerful, supportive presence he needed in his life. Her carefree attitude and copious amounts of wit never left a moment feeling dull, but also never uncomfortable. As they twirled around the dancefloor, he occasionally caught glimpses of the rest of the boys talking, a pleasant look on all of their faces. It was even more amusing whenever a young lass dared to approach, batting her lashes and flicking her fan as she conversed with Percy and Oliver. He had to hand it to him: attracting so many women while not having a title was an impressive feat. He couldn¡¯t help the coy smile that worked its way onto his lips.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    And he¡¯s all mine.


    The rest of the night went by without a hitch, and as guests began to say their thank yous and goodbyes to Philip and Dahlia, he found himself¡­ contented. That suffocating feeling in his chest had fled at some point during the evening and not returned. Maybe it was his newfound confidence after that spat with Benjamin. Or maybe it was due to him and his brother¡¯s renewed relationship. Or perhaps it was because it was the first time he had been able to bring Percy to something like this. He chalked it up to all of the above.


    As he stepped towards Philip, Dahlia got to him first, and he grunted in surprise as she wrapped unsuspectingly strong arms around him.


    ¡°Aryn, it was such a joy having you here tonight. Maybe you can plan the next one with me,¡± she suggested, an endearing smile spreading across her face.


    The corners of lips curled upward in response. ¡°I would love that.¡±


    As she pulled away, revealing Philip behind her, brown eyes met with blue. There was a softness to his brother¡¯s that he hadn¡¯t seen before, and it was as if he were seeing him differently now, for the first time. He thought there were words to be spoken, but the silence remained unbroken as Philip wrapped his strong arms around him, hugging him tightly to his chest.


    ¡°I love you,¡± he murmured into his ear. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±


    His throat instantly began to close up. ¡°I love you too, Philip.¡±


    They remained for a few more seconds before his brother pulled away first, clasping him on the arm. ¡°Well, we¡¯ve kept you long enough. Go get some rest. And Percy,¡± he now faced the former smith. ¡°It was wonderful to have you here. I do hope you will join us for the next one. I get the feeling you¡¯ll be around for quite a while.¡±


    A soft, warm smile rose on Percy¡¯s face. ¡°I would love to. Thank you, Philip. I have felt nothing short of blessed by you and your family.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s because you deserve it. You¡¯ve earned it. I never properly thanked you for what you did for Aryn¡­ I am forever proud to call you a friend. And I must apologize for my behavior when first we met. It was rude, and entitled, and ignorant.¡±


    A boyish smirk made its way onto Percy¡¯s lips. ¡°Well what are friends for if not to call each other out on their shit?¡±


    Slowly, the same smirk came to occupy Philip¡¯s face. ¡°Precisely.¡±


    The two of them departed from the castle, making their way towards Percy¡¯s estate under the darkness of a cold, cloudy night. Percy fumbled with the lock for a moment before the door swung open with the wind. A fire remained gently smouldering in the large hearth, but the house had begun to cool.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go throw more logs on the fire if you want to pick out a bottle,¡± Percy suggested, starting towards the fireplace.


    He nodded in agreement and began to peruse the wine rack. Definitely a red, but maybe something a little lighter so it didn¡¯t settle too heavily in their stomachs. He picked one out that contained a clear, vibrant ruby coloration and finagled with the hook instrument, awkwardly wrenching the cork out. He heard the soft collapse of bark as the old fire crumbled beneath new logs and pulled two glasses from the hutch beneath the rack, pouring each of them to half way.


    Percy now approached, and a warm, gentle smile grew on his features as he handed him a glass. ¡°Did you have fun?¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly, yes. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever enjoyed a ball before,¡± he pointed out with a shy chuckle. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Once I settled in, it honestly didn¡¯t feel too different from the tavern. Including the fight.¡±


    He gave him a coy look, his green eyes silently asking for an elaboration.


    A sigh escaped his lips. ¡°Look, he was talking shit about you, and I just couldn¡¯t put up with it anymore. He used to be that way towards me, too. Well¡­ he is that way towards me. And I had just had absolutely enough of it.¡±


    ¡°Well I¡¯m proud of you. Thank you for sticking up for me. I wish I would have known what was happening sooner¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not always a damsel in distress, Percy,¡± he pointed out playfully. ¡°Besides, I think I needed to prove something to myself. To know that I actually can be tough and have a voice.¡±


    A proud smile found its way to Percy¡¯s face. ¡°Let¡¯s cheers then. To standing our ground.¡±


    ¡°To standing our ground.¡±


    A similar grin spread across his own lips as they both took an indulgent drink of their wine. The faint glow of the firelight reflected off of the dark, patterned thread on Percy¡¯s doublet, and he watched his Adam''s apple bob as he swallowed. Illuminated from behind, every inch of his body was accented, every curve and bulge of muscle amplified by his tailored clothing.


    Suddenly he set his glass down, reaching a calloused hand out towards him. ¡°Do you want to dance?¡±


    His brow furrowed in confused amusement. ¡°Dance? Percy, there¡¯s no music.¡±


    ¡°Well, we can just pretend. Come on. I couldn¡¯t dance with you all night, at least humor me now.¡±


    He pressed his lips together shyly and proceeded to set his own glass down, taking his hand. He led him to the sitting room and effortlessly pushed the central table to the edge of the space, his arm no longer giving him grief. Upon his return, he slipped his arm around his slender waist, reuniting their hands. A blush arose on his angular cheeks as blue eyes locked with green.


    ¡°I feel like this is our first real night in the house together,¡± he commented, his voice low and soft.


    They began to sway to a silent beat, and he stepped himself closer to Percy, their chests almost touching as he looked up at him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve stayed a few times.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, to make sure I didn¡¯t fall down the stairs in the middle of the night,¡± he argued. ¡°It¡¯s our first night where we don¡¯t have to worry about anything else. Or anything at all.¡±


    His face seemed to gravitate towards him. ¡°Are you happy?¡±


    ¡°Am I happy?¡± A firm hand came to cup his cheek. ¡°Aryn, I am the happiest I have ever been. You have fulfilled me in ways I never knew possible.¡±


    Their feet continued to shuffle as Percy¡¯s grip on his waist tightened.


    ¡°But is this life really what you want?¡±


    ¡°If it means I get to spend it with you, yes. A million times yes.¡±


    Their breaths intertwined as the distance between them grew smaller and smaller. His gaze flicked about Percy¡¯s face, his lips, his emerald green irises. But the former smith¡¯s was unmoving, fixated only on his eyes, before he pressed their lips together. His hands slowly shifted to the front of Percy¡¯s doublet, slender fingers grasping it as he pulled him even closer, and a stronger hand came to tangle in his ashen hair.


    As their mouths moved in tandem, he couldn¡¯t help but notice the strange feeling in the air. The sensation was almost palpable, otherworldly, as it drew them together in a way he had never felt before. His heart thumped loudly yet slowly, not with uncertain nervousness, but with anxious expectation. The same desperate fervor with which they usually embraced was nowhere to be found, and instead had been replaced by an unexplainable calm. It was like he knew, deep down, he should savor every moment of this.


    Slowly, ever so slowly, his fingers worked to undo the doublet as Percy¡¯s tongue teased at the entrance to his mouth. Permission was eventually granted, and their tongues danced together to a quiet, intimate song only they knew. After a few moments, the garment was undone, and he slid it off his muscled arms and let it fall to the floor, leaving him in a thin, silk undershirt. Their mouths separated for Percy to pull his own shirt overhead, discarding it before his dexterous fingers went to work on Aryn¡¯s clothes.


    The need to put his mouth back on him was torturous, but as Percy glanced between his work and his blue eyes, he was content enough to just watch. The flickering firelight whipped softly across his tan skin, further outlining the definition on his abdomen. His hands ached to touch it.


    His own shirt was now being slowly removed, and even just the simple act of disrobing him was handled with extreme care. He watched as Percy¡¯s throat bobbed, his fingertips running over the smooth landscape of his fair skin, as they trailed down towards the laces of his breeches.


    But instead they came to grasp his own hand, and green eyes flicked back to his.


    ¡°Could we go upstairs?¡±


    The weight of the question settled deep in his chest, and as they locked gazes once more, he felt his heart skip a beat.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    A strong hand grasped his as Percy now led them towards the stairs, forging their way towards the bedroom. The door clicked softly shut behind them, and he now turned to face the young man. The laceration on his arm had now healed to a thick scar, although Percy had told him he still couldn¡¯t feel the area below it. He noticed the subtle way his chest heaved, the way his abs distended with each nervous breath.


    Percy¡¯s feet carried him slowly in his direction, but not hesitantly, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.


    ¡°Sit down.¡±


    He did as he was told. Percy kneeled on the floor and began removing his boots, setting them off to the side carefully so as not to make unnecessary noise. It wasn¡¯t to make sure no one could hear, but to keep things as quiet and calm as possible. Once the boots were gone, he efficiently removed his own before setting his fingers to work on the laces of his breeches.


    His own fingers found their way into his curly hair, playing with it and taking in each unique sensory aspect. From this angle, he had never noticed the impressively developed muscles that resided on top of his shoulders, extending to his neck. It was like each part of him had been meticulously sculpted.


    The laces had been loosened enough, and Percy hooked his thumbs into his waistband. But his own hands quickly grasped them, making him pause.


    ¡°Yours first.¡±


    Percy obeyed and stood up, letting his arms fall lax to his sides. He could feel that heat beginning to spread across his skin, like every sense was becoming heightened, more sensitive, as his own fingers started to untie the laces on Percy¡¯s pants. His heart kicked up again as a singular focused thought kept running through his mind.


    Roughly textured fingertips trailed over the skin on the side of his neck, moving slowly down and along the top of his shoulder. It sent fire coursing through his arm and chest as he loosened the ties enough, tilting his chin upward to look upon Percy, his blue eyes shining with the dim firelight of the candles that scarcely illuminated the room.


    ¡°Do you want to take them off?¡±


    The look in his green eyes was soft yet primal, and they glazed over slightly as he nodded his head yes and tucked his thumbs into the waistband. Slowly, he pulled them down off his hips, then guided them down his legs, and an intense burning began to arise on his cheeks as Percy stepped out of his garments.


    He didn¡¯t understand how someone could look like that. It was how he imagined the fabled demigods or heroes were, like Achilles or Hercules. But even with the intense, hard lines that his muscles etched into his body, he didn¡¯t feel untouchable. And as he slowly ran his hands over his torso, and even more slowly down towards his hips, it indeed felt quite the opposite.


    A strong hand came to grasp his chin, and, towering over him, Percy bent down and placed his lips to his. Blood rushed hot through his veins, that same thought once again slamming into the forefront of his mind. Deepening the kiss, he took Percy in his hand, and the shudder of his breath on his lips drove him mad as his already loosened breeches became tighter.


    He could feel the heat radiating from his tan skin, could feel the way his abs twitched and tightened as he touched him. Percy¡¯s hand tightened its grip on his chin before he was being pushed down onto the bed. He made quick work of his pants and carelessly tossed them to the side, but instead of reconnecting with him, he remained where he stood.


    Lifting his head just enough to look at him, a subtly confused expression made its way to his fair features, and he couldn¡¯t help it when his heart began to race.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    His green eyes raked up and down his body ravenously; it was as if Percy was on the brink of starvation, and he was an eight course meal. He watched his broad chest heave with a deep breath.


    ¡°I told you what I wanted.¡±


    ¡°I want you in that bed, our bed, laid out for me, naked. I want to hear my name on your lips as you beg for me.¡±


    Intense heat rose on his cheeks as he propped himself up on his hands, never breaking their gaze, and shifted himself further up onto the bed, coming to rest on his elbows. His stomach began to do flips when Percy¡¯s expression shifted, a look that blatantly conveyed sinful thoughts now plastered on his tan face. He remained planted where he was for another moment, drinking him in.


    ¡°What do you want, Aryn?¡±


    His chest heaved as blue eyes flicked over Percy¡¯s gorgeous body, and he pressed his lips together, the word dangling on his tongue.


    ¡°You.¡±


    Finally his feet moved, and the featherbed bowed as he climbed onto it, coming to preside over him. He slid his way in between his legs as their mouths met, tongues coming to dance with each other once again. A calloused hand worked its way up his side, all the way up his chest and to his neck, and he quickly felt a downward rush of blood. His breath caught as Percy pressed their hips together, and a subtle tightness began to form in his stomach when his bottom lip was trapped between teeth.


    A thumb brushed along the side of his throat before Percy trailed his mouth to his neck now, teasingly brushing his lips over his skin. He found his own hands running over Percy¡¯s shoulders, one heading down his side as the other came to tangle in his hair. Eventually he trailed his fingertips over Percy¡¯s hip, slowly bringing them inward before finally wrapping them around him again.


    ¡°I have no idea what I¡¯m doing,¡± he whispered hesitantly into his ear.


    Percy drew back to look at him, a softness returning to his eyes as a timid smirk found its way onto his lips. ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°I-is this okay?¡± his tone was uncertain as he slowly and gently worked Percy in his hand, their breaths intertwining as their faces hovered closely together.


    A brief, tender kiss was placed to his mouth. ¡°Is it what you want to do right now?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    ¡°Then yes.¡±


    He returned the kiss but now maintained it, their lips moving gently in tandem. His whole body tingled as Percy moaned against his mouth, quiet and low, and that primal need began to well up inside him more. He craved for Percy to touch him, to be in him.


    A small, slow wave of pleasure washed through him as a strong hand grasped him, working him in its grip. Percy¡¯s lips now made their way back down his neck and slowly peppered kisses along his chest. He slid his muscular body down his own, trailing his mouth along his skin until they settled low on his stomach. A soft moan escaped his mouth as teeth nipped and sucked at his hip, and his whole body grew hot as he watched Percy touch him.


    His hand tangled in his curly hair, unsure of what to do with the other one. As Percy removed his mouth from him, a deep red mark was left on his skin. Their eyes locked, and the message within both of them was clear. Pressing his lips together, Percy made his way back up his body until their faces met. A few stray curls hung in front of his forehead, and he reached up to gently brush them away.


    A subtle trembling kicked up deep in his core. He didn¡¯t know why he was so nervous when he had been wanting this for so long. But as his heart began to race, a large, firm hand was placed on his chest.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    He bit at his lip anxiously but nodded, his fingers playing with Percy¡¯s hair in a self-soothing manner.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯m just overthinking.¡±


    ¡°What are you nervous about?¡±


    His voice was soft and gentle and comforting. Everything about it made him feel safe, regardless of his anxiety. He found his other hand wandering over his shoulder now, fingertips circumducting the scar.


    ¡°I guess just¡­ how it feels. Unknowns tend to scare me.¡±


    ¡°Well we have all the time in the world. And I will go as slow as you need me to.¡± He pressed a light, lingering kiss to his forehead. ¡°If you want to stop, we¡¯ll stop.¡±


    ¡°But I want to do it¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. But I need you to know there are no expectations. All I care about right now is you. All I want is to be with you. Whatever that looks like, however far we go, I don¡¯t care, okay?¡±


    His heart slowly began to settle, his breathing becoming less shallow. He couldn¡¯t remember a time he had ever felt this safe, this regarded.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Their lips connected once more, and a deep sense of calm washed over him.


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    A stray strand of ashen hair was tucked behind his ear as Percy¡¯s lips brushed over his.


    ¡°I love you too.¡±


    He let himself settle further into the bed, hyper-aware of his body as Percy wet his fingers and brought his hand down. Their faces hovering close, his heartbeat quickened with anticipation. He felt something begin to prod at him, and soon after there came a gentle pressure. Percy¡¯s eyes concentrated sharply on his face as slowly the pressure went deeper and deeper. But abruptly it turned to discomfort, and he tensed up, drawing himself back slightly. Percy froze, his tan face plastered with observant concern.


    He thought about his body relaxing, imagining all of his muscles releasing as much as physically possible. It was difficult to completely let go¡­ He deepened his breathing and pressed his forehead to Percy¡¯s, and he felt his stomach relax as a comforting hand made lazy circles on the inside of his thigh.


    ¡°Can I keep going?¡± he murmured quietly, his breath tickling his face.


    The pressure slowly began to lighten up, and he continued to focus on that feeling of releasing as he softly nodded.


    ¡°Mhm¡­¡±


    Percy pushed his hips farther, and the pressure intensified, but wasn¡¯t hurting. His heart thumping loudly in his chest, he pressed their lips together, craving for something to anchor himself with. He gripped Percy¡¯s muscular shoulder tightly, using it to give silent cues about whether to slow down or pause. But eventually, the pressure began to dissipate, and as Percy pushed his hips flush with his body, an unexpected wave of pleasure shot through him.


    A moan escaped his mouth, and his cheeks quickly flushed red as his chest heaved slightly. For a moment, Percy didn¡¯t move; he brushed his lips across his with a sense of deep intimacy, and he found himself leaning into it, wanting more of him. Their mouths connected in a proper kiss as he tangled a hand in his curly brown hair. He felt space appear between them as Percy slowly pulled back, then pushed back in, the movement careful and restrained, and as he reached the end, that same feeling shot through him again.


    There was no pain anymore, no more discomfort. He needed more. As they kissed, he shifted and arched his back slightly, running his hand down Percy¡¯s arm. In response, his hips began to move faster, establishing a rhythm. With the different angle, he reached even farther, and a loud, pleasureful moan was wrenched from his throat.


    Percy moved his mouth to his jaw, feverishly trailing sloppy kisses along it before his teeth tugged at his earlobe. His free hand came to tangle in his ashen hair, and he gasped for air as Percy pulled on it, exposing his throat. He felt a tightness quickly forming deep in his stomach; he needed more, but he didn¡¯t know how that could be possible. His question was answered as Percy moved his hips more forcefully, slamming into him as he clamped his teeth down on his neck.


    His moan was more like a desperate cry of pleasure, but it was enough to give Percy pause as he suddenly slowed down and brought his face in front of him. Their bodies were becoming slick with sweat, and both of their chests heaved with heavy breaths.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    His voice was low and raspy with desire, but an immediate tone of concern cut through it. He nodded vigorously as he reached a hand around to cup his backside.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop,¡± he breathed, the words coming out in a begging whimper.


    Percy smashed their lips together as he began to move his hips again, picking back up the same pace and intensity. He was hit with unrelenting waves of pleasure, and that tightness in his stomach quickly began to intensify. Cries of ecstasy escaped him as he dug his nails into his back, but Percy knew better than to stop again. Suddenly the feeling descended, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment before a noise made of pure euphoria burst from his mouth.


    Percy¡¯s hips continued to move, unyielding, drawing out that feeling as he gasped with pleasure. He felt the muscles in Percy¡¯s abdomen clench, and he bit down on his slender shoulder as intense release abruptly came to him. Shuddering with a moan, he pumped his hips slowly and deeply. He arched his back into it, craving for him to be even farther inside him.


    A wave of warmth washed over him, every inch of his body melting away as Percy trailed his lips down his chest. Eventually they stilled, the only sound in the room that of their breaths. He traced his nails up and down his muscular back, not wanting him to pull away. They remained connected for a few moments longer, letting the air settle.


    Finally Percy removed himself, and it left him feeling strangely empty. Settling onto his side while propped up on an elbow, he brought a hand up and gently brushed the blonde hair from his forehead, placing a tender kiss to his lips.


    ¡°Was that what you wanted?¡± he murmured softly, a warm, subtle smile on his face as he looked at him.


    A breathy chuckle escaped him, and he couldn¡¯t fight the joyful grin rising on his lips.


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    Their chests began to settle as they slowly caught their breaths. Percy¡¯s emerald eyes lazily scanned over him, taking in all of his features as intently as someone might study a piece of art. His strong, calloused hand reached down and pulled a thin blanket over their waists.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    He snatched his hand and began to fidget with his fingers, the grin on his face settling into a soft closed-lip smile.


    ¡°Exhausted. Sweaty.¡± They both chuckled shyly, and he was surprised to see a slightly pink coloration rise on Percy¡¯s cheeks. ¡°But I¡¯d be lying if I said that wasn¡¯t the most amazing I¡¯ve ever felt in my entire life.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad the feeling¡¯s mutual.¡±


    He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his, the kiss calm and intimate. This was a moment he wanted to savor. He felt Percy smile against his mouth, and a hand came to cup his flushed cheek. That same warm feeling passed through him again.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get water heated for a bath. You do whatever you need to and I¡¯ll come get you when it¡¯s ready, okay?¡±


    He nodded with a shy smile before Percy drew away from him, his bare feet padding softly across the floor as he disappeared into the washroom. Alone, he took the moment to lay himself fully flat on the bed, closing his eyes. Unexpectedly, he felt his throat begin to close up, and he had to blink to release the tears that were welling up behind his eyelids.


    Three months ago he would have never thought he¡¯d still be alive, let alone here, being cared for by a man who so deeply and unconditionally loved him. The situation was extremely difficult, dare he say almost impossible, to wrap his head around. He felt as if he didn¡¯t deserve this¡­


    No, he did. They both did. Something had led him to that tavern that day. Perhaps one could call it fate, or destiny. But he knew now that they needed to find one another. There was no doubt in his mind that he and Percy were meant for each other, made for each other.


    ¡°You ready, love?¡±


    He opened his eyes to see Percy standing over him at the edge of the bed, a hand gently rubbing the side of his arm. His brow furrowed in concern as he spotted the streaks of tears running down his temples.


    ¡°Baby what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Without a second thought, Percy went down to his knees, tightly grasping his hand in his. He sniffled and shook his head, taking a deep breath.


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong. At all. I was just¡­ thinking about everything. And also I think what we did, how it¡¯s making me feel¡­ I¡¯m just weirdly emotional right now,¡± he explained with a breathy laugh.


    Percy brushed his thumb gently over his cheek, wiping away the lines of tears. ¡°Is there anything you need from me right now?¡±


    ¡°If you could get my back for me in the bath, that would be nice,¡± he joked.


    A soft chuckle escaped his chest as a warm smile spread across his lips. ¡°I would be more than happy to. You ready?¡±


    He nodded and clasped Percy¡¯s hand tightly, letting him help him up. They both gratefully sank into the bath, and the herbal tonic he had put into the water made his nose extremely happy. Percy had spaced out and lit a handful of candles, giving the washroom a calming, dim glow. He hadn¡¯t felt it before, but now that they were coming down, he definitely was a bit sore. With a deep sigh, he relaxed back into Percy as the sponge gently scraped across his skin, unable to resist the content, peaceful smile that rose on his face.


    They took their time in the bath, letting their bodies and minds reset. After drying off, he stole a loose pair of pants from Percy¡¯s dresser; the linen was extremely soft and felt very soothing to his nerves. Exhaustion finally caught up with him as he felt his energy suddenly drain away, and he clambered into the bed sleepily, hunkering down among the thick blankets and fluffy pillows. He heard Percy chuckle quietly before the bed bowed slightly beneath more weight. A hand began to softly rub up and down his back, and he was finding a hard time keeping his eyes open.


    A tender, featherlight kiss was placed just beneath his ear. ¡°I love you.¡±


    He turned his head to look up at Percy, only able to see the outline of his face as they had already put the candles out. A sleepy smile spread across his lips.


    ¡°I love you too. Thank you for loving me¡­¡±


    Percy tucked a piece of ashen hair behind his ear.


    ¡°I am the luckiest man in the world for being able to love you.¡± He bent down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. ¡°Goodnight, beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Percy.¡±


    A strong arm wrapped across his waist as Percy¡¯s chest pressed against his back. The slow, rhythmic sound of his deep breathing sank him into a place of quiet peace and safety, and as his consciousness began to drift away, none of those bad thoughts seemed to be able to reach him.

 Nineteen

    He awoke with his arm still wrapped around Aryn¡¯s waist. The gentle sound of his breathing subtly filled the quiet morning air as cold sunlight filtered through the curtains in the bedroom. Rousing his consciousness, he took in a slow, deep breath and steadily blew it out, nuzzling his forehead into Aryn¡¯s back. The prince¡¯s skin was slightly chilled, but the rest of them was quite warm beneath the thick fur blankets that adorned the bed. He lay there for a few moments more, taking in the content peacefulness of it all.


    Eventually he carefully sat up, not wanting to jostle the featherbed, and came to rest on his elbow, looking down at him. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever seen Aryn¡¯s face look so calm before; most nights he usually had to wake the prince once or twice because he would begin to toss and turn, mumbling in an incoherent yet clearly uncomfortable way. He had wished just once for him to be able to escape his thoughts and truly rest. Apparently last night had finally been that time.


    His fingers gently brushed the cool blonde hair from his forehead, and he leaned down and placed a featherlight kiss to it before carefully sliding out of bed. Moving quietly, he donned a comfortable grey sweater made of thick wool and slid on a pair of slippers to keep the cold from his feet. He left the bedroom door slightly cracked before he trekked down the stairs.


    The fire in the great hearth had diminished to embers, and the house contained a pretty intense chill. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, he shuffled over and began to refill it, piling up a good amount of logs to get a proper blaze going. He waited a moment, but thankfully the embers were enough to eventually catch the rest of the wood on fire. With that, he made his way past the dining room and into the kitchen. The room was freezing, so he quickly threw some logs onto the cooking hearth, along with some kindling, and started the fire.


    Aryn had hired a few people to help keep the estate stocked, but there were no servants. The prince had known he wouldn¡¯t have wanted to throw away his entire lifestyle; he felt that having someone do everything for you took away one¡¯s worth, one¡¯s independence. If anything, it just simply made him feel like a lazy bastard. Not to mention they wanted their privacy. The pantry was stocked with all manner of ingredients, as well as produce and animal products such as carrots, potatoes, leeks, eggs, and several different hardy cheeses. In another pantry, constructed of stone, cuts of salted meat wrapped in paper sat on the cooled slabs. He had asked for the date the animal was butchered to be written on the papers, so he would know when to cure it and dry it out. Even though he was well-off now, he still felt it a crime to waste any food.


    He procured a cut of pork and prepared an iron skillet, setting out to cook a proper breakfast. Thankfully the kitchen had started to warm up, as he could no longer see his breath in the air. Setting out some eggs, leeks, and potatoes, he went to work.


    The kitchen began to fill with the mouthwatering smells of savory cooked meat and the herbal, earthy scent of leeks and potatoes. Once the pork had been turned to thick, chewy strips of bacon, he moved on to the eggs.


    Shit, maybe I should¡¯ve started on some coffee before¨C


    ¡°Morning,¡± a groggy, raspy voice greeted from the kitchen doorway.


    He turned to spot Aryn, dressed in a dark green sweater that was too big for him, leaning against the doorframe still half-asleep. His lips curved upward into a warm, endearing smile as the prince covered his mouth in a yawn.


    ¡°Morning. You hungry?¡±


    Still mid-yawn, he nodded with blue eyes squinted shut. ¡°It smells really good. I didn¡¯t know you could cook.¡±


    He stirred the eggs around the skillet some more before they began to stick.


    ¡°Mum taught me. Said the ladies love a man who can cook, so¡­ well, I figured it¡¯d still be good to learn for my own sake,¡± he explained with a shy smirk.


    He heard the soft patter of slippered feet approach him before Aryn wrapped his slender arms around his waist from behind. A soft chuckle escaped his chest as the prince¡¯s hands could barely overlap one another.


    ¡°You and your mum are close then?¡± he murmured against his broad back.


    ¡°Yeah. Pa taught me how to be a protector, but my mum taught me how to love people.¡± He threw the chopped leeks in with the eggs. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, my pa has a big heart. But he also believes that showing emotion as a man is showing weakness. Ma was always trying to convince me otherwise.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right though,¡± Aryn stated softly. ¡°Emotions are powerful, not weak. And you can either let them build you up or tear you down.¡±


    A pensive smile tugged at his lips. ¡°You¡¯re very introspective in the morning,¡± he pointed out playfully.


    The prince scoffed through his nose, something like a laugh. ¡°It¡¯s because my brain isn¡¯t a pile of anxious mush yet.¡±


    A heaviness began to grow in his chest, and that smile started to slowly fade.


    ¡°Do you know how to make coffee? I forgot to get some going before I started cooking,¡± he prompted, itching to change the subject.


    His slender arms slid away from him, and he turned to see Aryn giving him a playfully annoyed glare. ¡°Yes, I know how to make coffee, Percy. I also know how to wipe my own arse, believe it or not. Where are the beans?¡±


    He felt a subtle heat rise on his cheeks as he laughed, nodding towards a cabinet across from the prepping table. The eggs almost ready, he stirred in some salt and pepper and tossed in the diced potatoes, finally not scalding hot from the boiling water. Aryn reappeared beside him and grabbed the tools he needed to begin roasting the coffee beans. It was rather nice that the hearth was big enough to do more than one thing at a time.


    As he watched the prince quietly work, adorably focused on the task at hand, images of last night flashed through his mind. Particularly when he had come to retrieve him for the bath. The panic he had felt in that moment had had a hard time leaving his chest; he thought maybe he had hurt him, or said or done something to make him so upset. He thought he¡¯d ruined it for Aryn, and that was something the prince would never be able to get back.


    But when he¡¯d realized Aryn had been emotional for a different reason, there was still a weight that settled in his chest. As he¡¯d scrubbed his back and held the prince to him in the bath, he kept thinking about the King, about how he treated his son behind closed doors. And even though it seemed like his relationship with his brother was mending, what had it been like before that, and for how long? And with his mum gone¡­ he couldn¡¯t imagine just how unbearably lonely Aryn had been. How isolated and unwanted he¡¯d felt.


    ¡°What?¡±


    He blinked and quickly moved the eggs from atop the hearth, as they were beginning to sizzle, before turning back to Aryn. ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re staring at me,¡± he pointed out shyly, his eyebrows furrowed in amused curiosity.


    An embarrassed chuckle escaped his mouth as he shook his head, smiling at him guiltily. ¡°Sorry, am I not allowed to stare at you?¡±


    ¡°You can stare at me all you want, but I can tell the difference between your horny stare and your thinking stare.¡±


    ¡°My horny stare?¡± he interrogated, dark eyebrows shooting upward in disbelief.


    A bemused giggle left Aryn¡¯s lips as he turned the attention of his blue eyes back towards his roasting coffee beans. ¡°Yes, your horny stare. Don¡¯t try to play dumb, you know exactly what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    He shook his head in joking disappointment. ¡°That¡¯s unbelievable.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so you don¡¯t look at me in any particular way when you want to rip my clothes off?¡± he prodded.


    ¡°Well, I do, but I can¡¯t believe you call that my horny stare,¡± he laughed.


    ¡°What else should I call it then?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, it just seems so¡­ uncivilized. Like I¡¯m some sort of animal.¡±


    ¡°Percy, that¡¯s exactly how you act when you get worked up,¡± he accused with a smirk.


    He rolled his emerald eyes, but a mischievous smile lit up his face as he began plating the eggs. ¡°Fine. You win.¡±


    With the coffee beans roasted, Aryn moved them off the fire and threw them into a large mortar, but before he could set to work, he snatched the pestle from him.


    ¡°Go sit. I¡¯ll take care of it,¡± he insisted, beginning to grind up the rich, dark brown beans.


    Aryn frowned at him. ¡°But you asked me to make the coffee¨C¡±


    ¡°And now my hands are free. Sit. Eat, before the eggs get cold.¡±


    ¡°Then yours will, too. We can just have coffee after. It¡¯s Sunday anyway, there¡¯s no work to be done. There¡¯s no rush. Just eat with me, please?¡±


    His hands paused their work as he glanced over at Aryn, his deep blue eyes staring at him insistently. With a defeated sigh, he set the pestle down and finished plating their food. It was a robust assortment of scrambled eggs mixed with chopped leeks and potatoes, bacon, and a couple slices of fluffy bread. He carried them into the dining room and pulled Aryn¡¯s chair out for him, motioning for him to sit. As he did, he heard the prince¡¯s stomach growl. Giving him a knowing smile, he sat himself down and began to dive into the food.


    He had to hand it to himself, it was pretty goddamn delicious. Warmth spread slowly through his chest as he watched Aryn tear up his eggs, clearly returning the same sentiment. They both hadn¡¯t eaten much last night, just little finger foods at the ball, and they had been too exhausted to even wander down to the kitchen and grab a makeshift snack. They ate in comfortable silence, gratefully filling their bellies as the sun began to rise higher in the late morning sky.


    ¡°So, what would you like to do today?¡± he prompted, taking a bite of his bread.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ I thought maybe we could just stay here and relax. You can work on your art, and I¡¯ll do some reading. Come to think of it, I would like to put a harp over here¨C¡±


    ¡°Hold on, a harp? Why?¡± he asked, confused.


    His fair face began to flush slightly pink as he stared down at his food. ¡°Because I know how to play it¡­¡±


    A broad smile spread across his lips, and he cocked his head to the side slightly, brown curls shifting. ¡°You never told me you played any instruments.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s because I kind of lost my passion for it, since my mother had gotten really sick. I¡­ I would play for her when she was having a really rough day. It always seemed to make her feel a bit better. Ever since she passed I¡­ I haven¡¯t so much as touched the strings.¡±


    He watched Aryn¡¯s face fall as he ruminated on those horrible memories, his fork idly pushing around his eggs. Sadness always seemed to ruin his appetite. When they first met, and he had held him that night, he was shocked at how thin he had been. It was like he¡¯d been starving himself. But over the past few months, he had thankfully begun to put some meat on his bones. Although still slim, he looked natural now, healthy. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Well I would love to hear you play,¡± he declared, his smile becoming more gentle. ¡°We can go find one for you tomorrow, when the shoppes open back up.¡±


    His soft, pink lips twitched upward slightly, but he knew the prince was still lingering on the past. A weight began to sink in his stomach as Aryn set his fork down, his blue eyes growing distant.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t eaten much,¡± he pointed out, keeping his tone extremely gentle. ¡°We barely ate yesterday. Are you done?¡±


    Aryn¡¯s eyes darted around the plate, the small smile that had threatened to occupy his lips now turning slightly downward. ¡°I¡¯m just not very hungry anymore.¡±


    ¡°Love, I need you to eat,¡± he stated a bit more sternly, though his voice was still warm. ¡°Finish up your plate and I¡¯ll go make that coffee, okay?¡±


    Reluctantly, he picked his fork back up. With an encouraging smile, he rose from the table and headed back into the kitchen, working on grinding the beans again. Once ground, he began to boil them. A few minutes had passed when Aryn wandered in with an almost empty plate. Putting a filter over the pot, he carefully poured the coffee into two ceramic mugs, handing one to the prince.


    ¡°You wanna head up to the study after this? I can carry one of the armchairs up there for you to sit in so we can still spend time together,¡± he offered before taking a careful sip.


    Smiling shyly behind his mug, Aryn nodded. ¡°That sounds nice. Thank you.¡±


    They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, just sipping at their hot coffee as the world continued to wake up. His mind kept wandering to last night, and he couldn¡¯t fight the subtle flushing heat that rose on his neck. He hadn¡¯t completely known what to expect, but what had surprised him most was how he felt during it. Being their first time, he thought things would be slow (which they were, in the beginning at least), maybe a bit awkward and, well frankly, not terribly successful. But once they had settled in, it was¡­ intense. He had quickly lost himself in Aryn, and between the noises he was making and the way his body was responding, he¡¯d felt absolutely feral. The thoughts that¡¯d been running through his mind, looking back on them now, even made himself flustered.


    And he could not wait to do it again.


    Finishing his coffee, he grabbed the armchair from the sitting room and hauled it up the stairs, his ankle protesting slightly. Everything had healed now, but there was still a lot of tightness in the joint. Nevertheless, Byron had told him it was important to start challenging it. He managed to get the chair up the stairs without incident and placed it in the drawing room, by one of the windows. Aryn followed closely behind, a book in hand that he¡¯d grabbed from one of the bookshelves in the sitting room. The daylight readily filtered into the study, casting a cool, golden glow onto everything. Aryn placed a kiss to his cheek before plopping down into the chair, cracking open the novel as he crossed his legs.


    He wasn¡¯t sure what to draw, but as the prince sat there with the sunlight streaming onto him, ashen hair casting perfect shadows across his face, he¡¯d found his inspiration for the day. His hand glided the charcoal across the large paper, putting down the outlines that he would begin to fill in as he continued on. The sounds of scribbling and page turning quietly filled the room for the better part of a few hours, each of them perfectly content with their activities and current company.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he prompted, turning to face Aryn.


    The prince cluelessly looked up from his book and set his deep blue eyes on the paper, his cheeks instantly turning a rosy color. ¡°I love it.¡±


    Warmth spread through his broad chest as they locked gazes, accompanied by the intrusion of a fluttering sensation when the look in Aryn¡¯s eyes shifted.


    ¡°Can we talk about last night?¡± he prompted shyly, gently closing his book.


    He swiveled in his chair to face the prince fully. ¡°Of course. What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    Aryn began fidgeting with the corner of the novel, his lips pressing together timidly as his foot started to bounce.


    ¡°Did you¡­ like it?¡±


    ¡°I told you I did,¡± he pointed out, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. ¡°Why, was there something I did to make you think otherwise?¡±


    ¡°N-no, no I just¡­ I¡¯m just having a hard time accepting that this is real,¡± he stated with a nervous chuckle.


    He could see the insecurity worming its way onto Aryn¡¯s face. With a sigh, he stood up from his chair and stepped over to him, reaching his hands down to hold his cheeks. His fair skin still flushed, Aryn tilted his head up, locking eyes with him once more.


    ¡°This is real, Aryn. We¡¯re real. I am utterly and completely obsessed with you.¡± He brushed his thumb across his rosy cheek. ¡°And I will do whatever it takes to convince you of that.¡±


    He saw his slender chest heave subtly and realized just how close he was standing to him. That electricity between them began to build, and he pulled at Aryn¡¯s face, making him rise from the chair. Without breaking their gaze, he slowly took the book from his hand, plopping it down onto the small side table. He could see beneath the prince¡¯s clothes, remembering the way his naked body had looked under the candlelight, begging to be ravaged.


    ¡°Did you like it?¡± he asked in a near whisper, their mouths getting closer and closer to one another¡¯s.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he murmured back shyly. He caught his blue eyes darting briefly towards his lips.


    ¡°What did you like about it?¡± he goaded, his free hand now coming to slide its way around his waist.


    Aryn bit at his own lip timidly, a shy chuckle escaping his mouth. ¡°It makes me feel weird saying it.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to guess then?¡± he asked playfully, working his fingers up underneath his sweater onto the small of his back.


    Aryn nodded and slid his hand under his shirt, brushing his delicate fingers along the well-formed muscles on his abdomen. He could feel the blood already begin to rush downward at his touch.


    ¡°Well, if I had to guess,¡± he let his other hand trace along Aryn¡¯s throat, ¡°was it when I was deep inside of you?¡±


    He watched his face instantly turn red, and his blue eyes flicked away from his, unable to maintain their gaze. Smirking softly, he leaned forward and brushed their lips together, teasing him.


    ¡°I assume I was right with that one.¡±


    ¡°Mayhaps¡­¡±


    Teeth suddenly tugged at his bottom lip, and he responded by gripping Aryn¡¯s face firmly in his hand. ¡°You better be careful, or you might end up right back in that bed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯d be such a shame,¡± he murmured against his lips teasingly, a flirtatious grin spreading across his fair face before he pressed their mouths together.


    God, he wanted him so bad. But they need to take at least a day, especially Aryn. That didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t touch him, though. There were other ways of making the prince feel good besides what they did last night.


    A firm knock sounded on the front door, and Aryn pulled away with a groan. ¡°I swear, every time,¡± he complained. ¡°Should you get it?¡±


    He chuckled defeatedly and nodded, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before making his way downstairs. To his surprise, he opened the door to find Philip standing there, dressed in a thick, dark grey coat lined with fur.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± the crown prince greeted politely. ¡°Is my uh, is my brother here?¡±


    He stepped aside to invite Philip in. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s still passed out in one of the guest bedrooms. Drank a bit too much last night. I¡¯ll go grab him for you.¡±


    The lie ran off his tongue smoothly, but his heart raced wildly inside his chest. Why would Philip be here, of all people? Had something happened? He trekked back upstairs to Aryn, who waited expectantly.


    ¡°It¡¯s your brother,¡± he murmured lowly.


    The prince¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°What? Ugh, let me get dressed.¡±


    He made his way back downstairs to keep Philip occupied. The crown prince had wandered over towards the fireplace, warming his gloved hands, and turned to receive him with a polite, if not slightly awkward, smile.


    ¡°This is a lovely home, Percy,¡± he prompted. ¡°I might actually like to live somewhere like this myself if I didn¡¯t have to reside in the castle. Those huge stone walls tend to make things feel a bit less cozy.¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°Yeah, I can imagine. It has been very nice living here.¡±


    The sound of footsteps on the stairs caught their attention as they both turned to receive Aryn. He was dressed in his attire from last night, which further solidified the lie that he had crashed here unexpectedly. A terse smile occupied his face as he strode over to Philip.


    ¡°Brother, I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever expect you to come round here. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Father wishes to speak with you, about the incident last night. I informed him of everything I saw, but he wants the full story before he removes Benjamin from the council,¡± he explained.


    ¡°Then I guess we should be going then.¡± Aryn turned to face him with a soft, secretly regretful expression. ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, Percy.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Aryn.¡±


    He escorted them both to the door, brushing his hand against Aryn¡¯s behind his back, as they exited the estate.


    Lonely drawing it is then.


    ***


    ¡°Why does it bother you so much?¡± Dahlia asked as she brushed her long, dark hair.


    The clear thoughts and opinions he had formed were now quickly turning to mush as he stared at the smooth lines of her bare back. She sat at the vanity completely naked, perfectly unbothered by her lack of clothes. He would think after their rather vigorous tangling in their sheets, he¡¯d have gotten it out of his system, but with her, he had begun to learn it truly never would be enough.


    ¡°Philip?¡± she called in a sing-songy tone, an affectionate smirk growing on her full lips.


    It took him a moment to remember what they were talking about.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s just¡­ odd. I suppose I already have a hard enough time understanding my brother, so maybe I just don¡¯t understand this but¡­ he¡¯s been acting differently.¡±


    ¡°What, happier?¡± she challenged, turning to face him, the peak of her breasts now visible.


    ¡°Well, yes. But you must admit the amount of time he and Percy spend together is unnatural. He slept at his home last night, Dahlia¨C¡±


    ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t want to trek through the freezing cold in the dead of night while being intoxicated either, darling. Besides, have you seen Percy? They are friends, Philip. I do not know from where you get these scandalous delusions.¡±


    A frustrated sigh left his mouth. ¡°Dahlia, I do not believe they are delusions. Aryn has never once tried to court a woman, ever. I mean for God¡¯s sake, he looked as if he were going to be ill any time a lady came to talk to him last night.¡±


    She set her brush down and crossed her legs, turning to face him fully. ¡°Alright, humor me then. So what if your brother does not fancy women? Would that truly be an issue for you, for your family? We¡¯re already married. The future of your family¡¯s legacy is inevitably secure. So what if Aryn does not have children?¡±


    ¡°Dahlia, it is not my opinion I worry about. If he is in fact¡­ abnormal, and God forbid lying with Percy, the things my father would do¨C¡±


    ¡°Well then it¡¯s good fortune that that¡¯s not the case.¡±


    It was too convenient. She was too quick to dismiss it.


    ¡°Do you know something?¡± he interrogated quietly, eyebrows furrowing.


    ¡°My love, it is not my place to get involved in this¨C¡±


    He stood from the bed, the back of his neck growing hot. ¡°So you do know something. Dahlia, if something is going on, I need to know. Not for my sake, but for my brother¡¯s. How else will I be able to protect him?¡±


    The expression on her beautiful face shifted, becoming vulnerable, nervous.


    ¡°I promised not to tell anyone, Philip¡­¡±


    She looked¡­ scared. A hard wall of realization crashed into him as he saw himself in the mirror. The way he was standing, the look in his eyes, it was just like Father. He let out a soft breath and took a careful step towards his wife, easing himself onto his knees in front of her before taking her hand.


    ¡°I know. And I know promises are important. But this is serious, my love. I will make a promise to you then: I swear Aryn, and Percy, if he is truly involved, will never know you told me. I will not shame you like that. But I need to know.¡±


    He watched as conflict danced across her gorgeous features, but eventually she let out a shaky sigh.


    ¡°They are partnered, yes.¡±


    ¡°Who all knows?¡±


    ¡°Just me, Oliver, and now you,¡± she stated quietly. ¡°But Philip please do not get between them.¡±


    An overwhelming sense of confusion fogged up his head. ¡°What¡­ Why not? Dahlia, it has to stop, before something happens.¡±


    She leaned forward in her chair, a sense of desperation coming over her and filling her hazel eyes. ¡°You have not seen them together, truly. My love, I know it is difficult to understand but¡­ they love each other. Could you imagine what that would do to Aryn if you forbade him from seeing Percy? After everything you¡¯ve told me he¡¯s been through, I fear he will not recover from that¡­¡±


    Thoughts swam through his head wildly. He had known it; deep down, he knew, at the very least, that Aryn was different. When his brother had brought Percy to that hunt, it was strange enough that he had made friends with a commoner. But when the accident happened, he¡¯d caught how Percy was dragging himself, desperately, over to his brother, even when he was on the brink of death. It enraged him when Aryn would not leave his bedside save to finally sleep, not even eating the rest of the day. He hadn¡¯t been able to wrap his head around it.


    But seeing Percy in the council chamber the last fortnight, he thought he understood what was happening, thought that Aryn simply admired Percy and aspired to be more like him. But he¡¯d noticed the way Percy had been looking at his brother last night. There was a deep sense of adoration, of longing in his eyes; men did not look at other men like that. When he¡¯d entered Percy¡¯s estate, been given the excuse of Aryn¡¯s intoxication, the lie almost landed had he not laid eyes upon the barely drank bottle of wine sitting at the edge of the dining table. Neither had been drunk in the slightest upon leaving the ball.


    ¡°Philip¡­¡±


    He lifted his rich brown eyes to find Dahlia staring at him anxiously, expectantly.


    ¡°Promise me. Please.¡±


    It was a horrible idea. But she was right; he simply could not be the one to take away yet another person Aryn loved, another person that loved his brother. So against his better judgment, he sighed and kissed her cheek.


    ¡°I promise.¡±

 Twenty

    The pleasant, calming aroma of the bath oil filled his nostrils as he gently scrubbed his arms. It smelled of rosemary and peppermint, the scents he associated characteristically with wintertime. Spending last night alone had been much harder than he thought it would be, but after Father¡¯s interrogation, and Philip¡¯s strange, glaring silence towards him at family dinner, he figured it¡¯d be best to not raise any suspicion for a day.


    Sleep had not come to him easily. Barely, would be a more accurate description. And when he did manage to sleep, his dreams were plagued with old, familiar nightmares. After dinner tonight, he¡¯d slipped out to the estate and ended up taking a long nap on the daybed with Percy, content to let the repetitive scribbling of charcoal and the steady breathing movements of his stomach lull him to sleep as he rested his head in his lap.


    But when he¡¯d awoken, the shift in the air was blatant. It wasn¡¯t long before they had relieved each other of their clothes and made love in the bedroom. He very quickly realized it was something that threatened to become addicting. When they were tangled in each other, his brain was quiet. He was finally able to just exist, not constantly dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. All of those incessant, irrational thoughts that took up too much space in his head seemed to disappear, the vacancy being filled by a singular sentiment.


    I am loved.


    It was an addiction he didn¡¯t mind developing.


    Muffled footsteps padded up the stairs as the bedroom door softly opened, and he leaned around the edge of the tub to see Percy carrying a wooden cutting board. His dark brown hair was damp, but parts of it were beginning to turn into loose, frizzy curls as it dried. A loving grin spread across his lips as he spotted the assortment of cheeses and fruits arranged neatly on top of it, along with a bottle of uncorked wine and a small paring knife in his other hand. He placed the items down carefully on the nightstand before making his way into the washroom, kneeling behind the tub. His strong hands wrapped over top of his shoulders and began to knead away any remaining tension.


    ¡°How¡¯s your bath?¡± he asked sweetly, his voice warm and low as he pressed a soft kiss to his neck.


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m almost done, sorry,¡± he murmured back shyly.


    ¡°Take your time, love, we¡¯ve got all night. Don¡¯t rush on my account.¡±


    He breathed deeply and let his head fall back against Percy¡¯s chest, closing his eyes. ¡°So Benjamin¡¯s been officially kicked from the council.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful news. I won¡¯t have to look at his weasley little face every meeting,¡± he stated playfully, slowly peppering kisses down his neck and onto his shoulder.


    ¡°Mm, but that means someone has to fill it. And, well¡­ guess who my father appointed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not sure, I don¡¯t know hardly any of the noblemen around here,¡± he mumbled dismissively, his strong fingers expertly working out the knots buried in his muscles.


    ¡°Me.¡±


    His hands halted. ¡°Did you ask for it?¡±


    ¡°No, but Father said it was about time I started making real contributions to the kingdom, so he saw it as the perfect opportunity. And I also think he just wants to be able to keep a tighter rein on me¡­¡±


    ¡°Whatever his ulterior motives are, this is still amazing Aryn. You¡¯ve been wanting to help instill change, and now we can truly do it beside each other. And with an official authority position on the council, it¡¯ll be all that much harder for your father to dismiss you.¡±


    He turned to face Percy, his brow furrowed slightly in anxious worry. ¡°But what if he¡¯s doing it just to prove I don¡¯t have what it takes to help rule? What if I get in there and embarrass myself¨C¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± he stated confidently, his tone so sure it settled the bubbling panic within his chest. He caringly tucked a dampened piece of ashen hair behind his ear. ¡°You are wise, and intelligent, and empathetic. And in my opinion, that¡¯s the perfect recipe for a great ruler. Truth be told, I think your father is starting to have more faith in you. Most of the men on the council are more like spoiled brats, and I can tell he¡¯s been dying to find someone worth his time to fill a seat on it.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t deny Percy¡¯s logic. The tightness that had begun to form in his chest slowly started to dissipate, even more so when his strong hands went back to work on his shoulders. But eventually the bathwater turned lukewarm, and he forced himself to leave its weightless confines. Drying off, he slipped on a loose pair of linen pants and a similarly fitting sweater, a shy smile finding its way onto his face as he caught sight of the food spread Percy had made.


    ¡°This is fancy,¡± he quipped, settling onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. ¡°We could have just raided the kitchen like goblins.¡±


    Percy¡¯s lips curved upward playfully as he grabbed the wooden board and knife and climbed onto the bed as well. ¡°I know, but this just seemed like a fun idea, something to keep us busy that we can talk over.¡±


    He snatched a grape off its stem. ¡°What do you want to talk about?¡±


    ¡°Well, I realized we don¡¯t know a whole lot about our childhoods. I feel like there¡¯s always a lot of insight to be gained about how someone was growing up.¡±


    Percy took a sip of wine straight from the bottle, and he couldn¡¯t help but snort and shake his head.


    ¡°I mean, my childhood wasn¡¯t too terribly different from how my life is now. Except for, well, this.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to know about your mum.¡±


    A heavy silence filled the room for a moment as his blue eyes flicked up to connect with green. The contact was sustained for only a second before he glanced down at the array of fruits and cheeses again, his stare growing distant.


    ¡°Well, she was uh¡­ an amazing woman. Since Philip was the firstborn son, naturally my father took over his rearing, so when I came into the world, my mum knew she would be able to have me mostly to herself.¡±


    Percy swiped a block of cheese from the board, cutting off a piece and chewing on it thoughtfully. ¡°What did she look like? I mean, obviously there were paintings people saw, but I don¡¯t feel like those tend to do it justice.¡±


    ¡°Like me,¡± he stated with a soft, pensive smile. ¡°I was practically a little mini replica of her. She had snowy blonde hair, soft blue eyes, like a lake in the winter. And her face was always so kind, just peacefully beautiful. Sometimes I wonder if that¡¯s why my father can¡¯t stand to look at me at times, because it reminds him of her.¡±


    He saw as Percy¡¯s face shifted, becoming more solemn. His calloused hand came to rest on his thigh, thumb brushing over the inside of it comfortingly.


    ¡°What was she like, her personality?¡±


    ¡°She was the kindest person I¡¯d ever known. But underneath it there was this fire I would only see when she talked to me. It came out whenever I¡¯d tell her about how the other boys were treating me, or something Father had said to me, whenever I began to doubt myself. Sometimes, in secret, she would tell me that she¡¯d have dreams of me sitting on the throne. And when I told her I didn¡¯t want to, she¡¯d say, ¡®and that¡¯s exactly why you will.¡¯ I thought it was because she simply liked me more than Philip, but she loved him just as endlessly.¡±


    He took a deep breath and snatched a date from the cutting board, his chest beginning to feel tight as he reached a hand out in silent demand for the wine bottle.


    ¡°Did she teach you how to play the harp?¡± Percy asked, lightening the topic slightly.


    The corner of his lips twitched upward slightly. ¡°Yes, she was so musically talented. She could sing, too. And she wrote poetry. She adored dancing. Art was never her strong suit though. She also loved to garden; she planted most of the flowers that are in the courtyard, actually. Father was mortified when he¡¯d come out there to find her in a simple shift and wool overdress just covered from head to toe in dirt.¡±


    Soft, airy chuckles escaped their chests as he caught Percy smiling warmly at him. Clearing his throat, he picked out a piece of cheese. ¡°So what was your childhood like?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he started, taking a swig of wine. ¡°I¡¯m also the younger of two brothers, so expectation wise, it was pretty similar. Jory gets the business when my pa gets too old to work. I suspected Mum always wanted a daughter, so it was always moments of my dad getting upset when he caught her teaching me to cook or sew¨C¡±


    ¡°You know how to sew, too?¡± he butted in, eyebrows raised. ¡°And I thought I was supposed to be the girly one,¡± he teased.


    Percy¡¯s grip on his thigh tightened, which sent his stomach tumbling as images from not even an hour ago reentered his mind.


    ¡°You are when you¡¯re pinned to the bed moaning my name.¡±


    His skin immediately flushed hot, and the hand on his leg now sent fire coursing through him. But he locked eyes with Percy and gave him a cautionary glance.


    ¡°Do not get that started again,¡± he warned playfully, the threat falling flat as his voice faltered with the way Percy was staring at him, like a lion about to devour its prey.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t go throwing false accusations around, or I will have to prove them wrong. Vigorously and relentlessly.¡±


    He thought his body had had enough, but the subtle throbbing that had started up below his waist said otherwise.


    ¡°Are you trying to bed me again so I¡¯ll pass out and you can have all the food and wine to yourself?¡± he accused teasingly. ¡°Because it¡¯s not going to work. I¡¯m far too hungry,¡± he concluded before popping another grape into his mouth.


    A devious smile made its way onto Percy¡¯s lips as he took another sip of wine. ¡°Well you were quite hungry for something else earlier¨C¡±


    ¡°Would you stop?¡± he laughed. ¡°I¡¯d like to continue discussing far less inappropriate topics, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Alright, fine,¡± he conceded, a more warm smile now occupying his tan face. ¡°What were we talking about again?¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Oh my God, I¡¯m going to stab you,¡± he declared exasperatedly.


    Percy laughed heartily, leaning forward and pressing a quick, endearing kiss to his lips. ¡°You¡¯re so adorable when you¡¯re mad. But yes, I know how to sew. I learned a lot of things so I could help Ma out. She¡¯s the only woman in the household, and taking care of three boys is a lot to ask. I guess since I knew I wouldn¡¯t be getting the family business, I made our family my business instead.¡±


    A deep, encompassing warmth spread within his chest. ¡°Percy, that''s beautiful. I love that.¡±


    He shrugged nonchalantly, chewing on a grape.


    ¡°I suppose. I hadn¡¯t thought much of it before. But I wasn¡¯t always a perfect son,¡± he mentioned with a mischievous smile. ¡°I was, well am, exceedingly stubborn. I can¡¯t remember how many times I got the belt because I ended up in fights or causing some sort of trouble. Although in my defense, it was always with noble intentions. He still had to punish me for posterity¡¯s sake, but Pa always told me never to start a fight, but make sure you finish it.¡±


    ¡°And did you?¡±


    A boyish smirk made its way onto Percy¡¯s face as he cut off another piece of cheese. ¡°Every time.¡±


    He rolled his eyes with a chuckle, shaking his head before going in for another piece of food. They wasted away most of the night talking, although it was mostly him listening to Percy tell stories about his upbringing. He himself had shared a couple details, but they always ended with him growing sad and distant, so eventually he was perfectly content to let his lover ramble on about his much happier memories. He suspected Percy noticed, too, and that¡¯s why he had simply stopped asking questions and just talked.


    It was refreshing hearing about how close he and Jory were. Whether they had been working in the forge together, playing in the springs during the summer, or causing mischief side-by-side, they seemed pretty inseparable. He hoped one day to finally meet him, once the war was over.


    As he watched Percy talk, his chest began to feel full. He didn¡¯t know how he had gotten so undeservingly lucky. Sure, the young man was, in every capacity of the word, excruciatingly handsome. But aside from their first initial glance, it wasn¡¯t his looks he had fallen for. It was exactly this. The way he cared so much, for everything in his life. How utterly selfless and humble he was. The way he loved him¡­ like he was the only thing in the entire world that existed, like he had been put on this earth just for him.


    Eventually the night grew late, and they settled down to go to sleep. But as he lay facing Percy, taking in his brilliant green eyes and warm, handsome face, he couldn¡¯t help but hold onto the evening a little longer, softly touching and kissing him. Finally he began to drift from consciousness, his head resting on his broad chest, as Percy drew lazy circles into his back. In that moment, he prayed things would never changed.


    ***


    His fingers strummed along the delicate strings of the harp with painstaking care, plucking a soft, if not solemn melody from the instrument. The constant drip of melting ice could be heard outside the castle window, a sign of the arrival of spring. In the warm light of the large study, he continued to play, getting lost in the notes and the emotions he was transferring through the song.


    ¡°You really should try playing in front of people,¡± she insisted gently, her voice quiet and weak. ¡°It¡¯s quite a gift you have, darling.¡±


    A small, sad smile found its way to his lips as he kept his blue eyes locked on the strings. ¡°You know I don¡¯t like to perform, Mother.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like to perform for strangers, Aryn. But¨C¡±


    A series of coughs racked her body, and his gaze shot over to her, dread welling up within his chest. She was lounging on her daybed, one of the only places she could get comfortable anymore. The vibrant sunlight washed in through the window and bathed her in a soft, golden light, accentuating the blood that now spattered her handkerchief. He couldn¡¯t pull his eyes away from it.


    ¡°But you love to perform for me. Someday you¡¯ll do the same for another person you love.¡±


    His fingers had stilled on the harp now. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t Father hardly come to visit you anymore?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m sick, darling¨C¡±


    ¡°I know but¡­ it isn¡¯t catching. It¡¯s been far too long for that to be the case. I don¡¯t understand why he wouldn¡¯t want to see you. Same goes for Philip.¡±


    ¡°Your brother is very busy, Aryn. It¡¯s tough work trying to find the future Queen of Westgarde¨C¡±


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    She finally turned to face him, her similar blue eyes dull and full of fatigue. ¡°Darling¡­ I am not getting better¨C¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± he denied stubbornly, his voice constricting in his throat as tears threatened in his eyes. ¡°Maester Byron told me there¡¯s still a way to help¨C¡±


    ¡°My love, he would only be able to remove the disease, but it would assuredly kill me quicker. He and I have already discussed this. I now simply wish to bide my time, spend it with my family.¡±


    ¡°And where is our family?¡± he snapped angrily, a tear cascading down his cheek.


    Her expression softened. ¡°Right here.¡±


    The words cut through him like a knife. His lip began to tremble as tears coated his cheeks, and his mother sighed heavily.


    ¡°Oh, my darling boy, come here,¡± she asked softly, reaching a hand out to him.


    He rose from his stool and strode over to her, coming to rest on his knees beside the daybed as she grasped his hand weakly. The other came to cup his face, her slender thumb brushing away the tears.


    ¡°I need you to be strong for me. This kingdom needs you to be strong.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not. Not like Philip, or Father is,¡± he murmured shamefully.


    ¡°I do not want you to be strong like them. You possess a different strength, the kind that can weather any storm, calm a raging sea. It is the kind of strength that unites kingdoms. The strength your father possesses¡­ it only ends up destroying them.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t care about all that. I wasn¡¯t made for it. All I care about is you, our family,¡± he argued, squeezing her hand tighter.


    ¡°My heart, you were made for so much more than just that heavy crown. Trust in that. But I need you to wake up now.¡±


    His brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You need to wake up.¡±


    Horror enveloped him as a waterfall of blood began to pour from her mouth, soaking into his clothes.


    He bolted awake with a gasp, unable to catch his breath. Percy was still dead asleep next to him, his muscular arm slung behind his head as his chest moved up and down slowly. His own neck was covered in a cold sweat, and he slowly sat up in an attempt to stop his head from swimming.


    A dark figure stood frozen in the doorway, and his heart began to race. Was he still dreaming? Was this the same figure that seemed to invade his nightmares, paralyzing him? Only now he wasn¡¯t stuck to the bed, unable to move. Time seemed to freeze as he stared at the human shape. His chest heaving, something deeply primal inside of him forced his hand to move ever so slowly towards the nightstand, directed towards the paring knife.


    The figure suddenly bolted in his direction, and he barely had enough time to snatch the knife before it made it across the bedroom. It lunged for him, but he threw himself from the bed, landing harshly on the wooden floor. As the figure attempted to jump off the featherbed, he scrambled clumsily to his feet, but cold hands grabbed at him. Terror welled up inside his throat.


    ¡°PERCY!¡± he screamed, desperately throwing his hand back and praying it would land.


    His breath burned in his chest as he attempted to bolt for the door, but unnaturally strong fingers tangled in his hair and yanked him back with excruciatingly painful force. Crying out in rageful fear, he blindly swung his hand back, trying to catch something, anything, with the knife. But another hand snatched his wrist and slammed it into the wall, knocking the blade from his grasp. Icy dread ran through his veins as he saw another flash of cold steel.


    He stumbled backwards as suddenly the figure was torn from him, and he turned as Percy and the man went tumbling to the floor. A ringing began to invade his ears, the sounds of the fight becoming muffled as he fell back against the wall, attempting to orient himself once more.


    Percy¡¯s fist connected savagely with the man¡¯s shadowed face, but their positions quickly flipped as the figure pummeled him brutally in the stomach. Yelling out with primal rage, Percy thrashed and kicked as the man attempted to pin him to the floor. His heart stopped as steel flashed in the man¡¯s grip, but Percy reached his hands up just in time to stop the dagger¡¯s momentum.


    The knife.


    He turned and searched the floor wildly, finally laying eyes on the paring knife that had skittered across the wood. Grasping it in his left hand, he stumbled over towards Percy, who was starting to fail to keep the dagger at bay. It was inches from his chest, and he roared in pure defiance with gritted teeth as he attempted to muster any more strength.


    But the man froze as he plunged the paring knife into the side of his neck.


    He watched as Percy¡¯s eyes went wide, still maintaining his opposing grip on the man with the dagger positioned over his heart. Without thinking, he wrenched the knife from his throat, and a gush of blood spurted from his neck, coating his palm. The man¡¯s hand came up numbly to cover the fatal wound, and before he could react, he spun and slashed his dagger across his chest. It tore open his sweater, and an intense burning seared across his skin as he cried out, jumping back.


    Amidst his confused panic, he just barely caught the look of pure rage on Percy¡¯s face, and he stumbled back into the wall as Percy pried the dagger from the man¡¯s hand and stabbed him. The figure fell backwards onto the floor, reaching a weak, useless hand up out of sheer instinct, but Percy brought the knife down on his chest again. And again. And again. The only sounds that filled the room were the sickening suck of the dagger being repetitively pulled from the man¡¯s chest, and Percy¡¯s rhythmic, feral breathing through clenched teeth.


    ¡°Percy stop¡­¡±


    His voice sounded distant as he stared at the carnage, unable to pull his eyes away. He kept going.


    ¡°Percy.¡±


    No response. The man¡¯s chest was beginning to look more like a piece of butchered meat.


    ¡°Percy!¡± he cried, snapping himself back to reality.


    Finally he paused, his green eyes sharpening as he came out of his frenzied haze. The dagger clattered loudly to the floor, and he slowly stood, hands shaking, before looking over to him. As he looked down upon himself, his left hand was coated in blood. Dark crimson stained the grey of his sweater, and suddenly his vision started to go black around the edges. Back against the wall, he collapsed to the floor, trembling. Percy quickly strode over to him, but the hand that touched him sent a shock of fear through his body. He jerked away, gasping sharply.


    ¡°Aryn¡­ it¡¯s okay. You¡¯re okay.¡±


    The familiarity of his voice anchored him, and when Percy went to touch him again, this time he did not pull away. His blue eyes remained fixed on the corpse that now lay in their bedroom.


    ¡°Wh-who is that?¡± he asked numbly, his voice barely more than a trembling whisper.


    ¡°Aryn, don¡¯t look at him. Look at me.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t tear his eyes away from the man he had just murdered. The thing that shocked him the most was the surprising amount of resistance he had felt when plunging that knife into his throat. He felt it tear through skin and muscle and sinew until finally it sunk the rest of the way in with ease, like he had reached the hollow center of it all.


    Strong arms slid beneath his knees and behind his back as Percy hoisted him from the ground, carrying him into the hallway before kicking the bedroom door closed behind them. The last thing he saw as the gap disappeared was the man¡¯s face, vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling, permanently transfixed into an expression of base terror.


    He was back on the floor as Percy squatted in front of him.


    ¡°Aryn, look at me.¡±


    His blue eyes slowly moved upward, landing on his blood splattered face. He remembered the primal fury that had been there moments ago, a rage only brought on by the threat of his safety.


    ¡°Okay listen to me. I¡¯m going to go get help. When I come back, and they start asking questions, you tell them that you had come over to talk about your new council position, okay? Say that I was catching you up on all of the recent events, we were drinking, and you decided to stay in the guest bedroom because it was so late. That¡¯s when you heard a struggle, and that happened.¡±


    ¡°O-okay,¡± he answered numbly.


    ¡°Repeat it to me.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡­ I came over to talk about the council. We were drinking, so I stayed. In the guest bedroom. A-and¡­ and the struggle woke me up, and then we¡­ that happened.¡±


    ¡°I need you to go wash your hands and mess up the sheets in the guest bedroom. It has to look real. Can you do that? Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes¡­ yes, I can do that.¡±


    ¡°Do not go into that room. I will be right back.¡±


    Percy moved to stand again, but he instinctively snatched his wrist. ¡°Wh-where are you going?¡±


    His tan face darkened as he looked down at him.


    ¡°To get your father.¡±

 Twenty-One

    The room was near pitch black, but he simply could not sleep. Carefully disentangling himself from Dahlia, he threw a robe over his bedclothes and slipped out of their chambers. The castle was eerily quiet, the tall, long hallways dimly lit by spaced out candelabras. As he wandered down the corridor, he noticed a faint flickering of firelight beneath his father¡¯s door still. The man hardly slept these days. With a sigh, he quietly rapped his knuckles on the wood.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he heard a deep, tired voice call from the other side.


    He turned the latch and pushed open the door, stepping into his father¡¯s chambers. The fire inside the hearth at the front left of the room had calmed to occasionally crackling embers, and a functional candle sat lit on the heavy oak desk the king was planted at. His quill worked vigorously across the current letter he was composing, no doubt to some commander at the border. He didn¡¯t bother turning to receive him.


    ¡°Still working?¡± he prompted, the attempt to start a conversation feeling like an intrusion of privacy.


    ¡°Clearly,¡± was all he said, his voice cold and pointed. ¡°Is there something you need, Philip?¡±


    ¡°No, I just could not find sleep,¡± he explained, inviting himself to sit in one of the armchairs by the fireplace.


    ¡°And you thought to bother me in my chambers?¡±


    ¡°I thought to maybe have a conversation with my father,¡± he shot back, a sense of challenge and stubbornness in his voice. ¡°Aryn told me you appointed him to the council.¡±


    ¡°Does this bother you?¡± he asked simply, although he could hear the hidden venom behind his words, as if they were a test of his pride.


    ¡°Of course not. The only thing that bothers me about it is your motives.¡±


    The words left his mouth before he was smart enough to think about them. His father now turned in his chair, ever so slightly, so that Philip could barely see his harsh, cold profile.


    ¡°My motives?¡± He scoffed indignantly. ¡°My motives are to make your brother actually contribute something to this family. Bringing me that clever blacksmith was a start, but he will have to provide far more than that if he is to earn any respect from me and this¨C¡±


    ¡°You are his father,¡± he interrupted, taken aback by the anger that laced his words. ¡°He should not have to earn your love¨C¡±


    He suddenly whirled on him now, brown eyes dark and cruel. His face was a mask of exhaustion, riddled with stark impatience.


    ¡°Well unfortunately for Aryn, his father is the King. And everyone must earn a king¡¯s respect, let alone his love. Do you think our subjects would act as loyal as they do if they did not have to earn my respect, my protection? I thought I taught you better than this.¡±


    His warm brown eyes turned towards the dying fire as he clenched his jaw, the back of his neck growing hot. ¡°You have taught me how to be a king, yes. But I fear for my future children¡­¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    The simple words were coated in a blatant threat. But he opened his mouth anyway.


    ¡°I know how to rule a kingdom. I know how to control my subjects. But what you never taught me, is how to be a good father.¡±


    ¡°You will mind your tongue, boy, or I will¨C¡±


    He turned to look at him now, defiance written all over his face. ¡°Or you¡¯ll what? Make Aryn next in line?¡± He scoffed. ¡°We both know how empty of a threat that is, Father. If you were not so blinded by your unbased hatred for him, you would see that he has done more good for Westgarde than either of us have in a very long time. Our people are angry because of the war you started. At least Aryn is doing something to abade that.¡±


    ¡°Your brother is an insolent brat. I should have never let Lydia take him over as she did,¡± he growled hatefully.


    ¡°Please, Mother is responsible for every ounce of goodness in him¨C¡±


    ¡°Goodness and weakness. Your brother is weak, Philip. And weakness destroys legacies¨C¡±


    ¡°At the rate we¡¯re going, there will not be much of a legacy, now will there?¡± he snapped. ¡°For God¡¯s sake, you hide him away like he¡¯s some sort of deformed creature, when I know the real reason you cannot bear to have him around is because he reminds you of Mother. And if we¡¯re being honest¨C¡±


    ¡°Oh please continue, it¡¯s not like you already aren¡¯t,¡± Aleksander spat, shoving his quill back into the inkpot on his desk.


    ¡°Mother was the only reason the people loved our family. When she died, Westgarde changed. You know it, I know it. And if you claim that Aryn is so much akin to her as you say, he should be well-known to the people, not hidden from them. Maybe they will finally find one of us to hold love in their hearts for again.¡±


    ¡°The people love you well enough,¡± he mumbled dismissively.


    ¡°But not well enough to forgive us for this war,¡± he insisted, not backing down.


    Insistent fists banged against the bedroom door, and they both turned their attention towards it.


    ¡°It is late, what is it?¡± Aleksander interrogated sternly.


    ¡°Your Grace, there is an emergency,¡± a guard¡¯s voice stated from behind the door.


    They both looked at each other with furrowed brows before his father pushed himself from his chair, lumbering over to the door and yanking it open.


    ¡°What could be such an emergency that¨C¡±


    For the first time in his life, he saw his father left speechless. He shot up from the armchair and came around to the door, and immediately all color drained from his face. Accompanied by two Crownsguard, Percy stood in front of them.


    Covered in blood.


    ¡°What in God¡¯s name happened to you?¡± his father demanded.


    ¡°Someone broke into the estate,¡± Percy stated, foregoing all formalities. ¡°Aryn is okay, but he¡¯s pretty shaken.¡±


    ¡°Are you both all right?¡± he asked hurriedly, his heart beginning to race wildly in his chest.


    The young man¡¯s green eyes locked with his, and something in them looked different. It didn¡¯t take a genius to know his brother had not dispatched the intruder. But the sheer volume of blood that coated Percy¡¯s hands and clothes¡­ it dotted his face like freckles and crusted in his curly hair. His stomach dropped as he realized the man must have gotten to Aryn, and had clearly paid the price for it. He could see the wildness still slowly fading from his emerald irises.


    ¡°Why is Aryn at your estate?¡± his father interrogated, although his tone did not convey the idea he so desperately prayed would not come to his mind.


    ¡°He came over to tell me about his new appointment to the council. I was catching him up on current affairs, and we had a bit too much wine. He decided to stay in one of the guest bedrooms¨Clook, could we discuss the details of our meeting later? There is a dead man in my house, with your son.¡±


    If it were not for the severity of the situation, he would have proudly laughed. Here stood the Imperial King of Westgarde, and Percy was talking to him as if he were a slow, belligerent old man. But the time certainly did not call for getting caught up in respectful formalities. Without much more thought, his father snatched up his heavy coat and haphazardly threw it on before turning to the two Crownsguard.


    ¡°Until proven otherwise, this is an assassination attempt. I want all guards on alert; there should be at least two stationed outside Dahlia and Oliver¡¯s doors. Philip, grab your sword. Quickly.¡±


    He darted past Percy and rushed back towards his chambers, swinging the door open without restraint. Dahlia bolted upright in the bed, clutching the fur blanket to her chest as she squinted in confusion.


    ¡°Philip? What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked sleepily, her hazel eyes following him as he beelined for where he kept his rapier.


    ¡°There¡¯s been an attack. Everyone¡¯s okay,¡± he added as he saw the panic quickly growing on her face. ¡°I need you to stay in our room, do you understand?¡±


    His voice was stern but not harsh, conveying an immense sense of concern and protectiveness more than anything else. She nodded, her lips parted slightly in shock, before he left the room as swiftly as he had entered. He met back up with Percy and his father, as well as the two Crownsguard, by the main front doors into the castle. No words were exchanged before the guards opened the doors for them, and the only thing that broke the tense silence was the sound of multiple boots stomping through the snowy streets. The trek seemed to go on for far too long, the seconds dragging by as his imagination began to run wild with what could have happened. But finally they reached Percy¡¯s estate, and he fumbled with his keys, hands still clearly shaking from adrenaline. The door blew open with the frigid wind, and a knee-wobbling sense of relief washed over him as he laid eyes upon Aryn sitting on the stairs.


    The sensation was short-lived however as he caught sight of the blood that coated his little brother. Pushing past the rest of the party, he rushed forward and took a knee, grasping Aryn¡¯s arms. He jumped at his touch, blue eyes distant, traumatized.


    ¡°Aryn. Aryn, are you okay?¡±


    His brother nodded numbly, but he spotted the slash that tore through the oversized sweater he wore. Red, glistening skin shone beneath, the edges of the wound beginning to crust with dried blood. Thank God it didn¡¯t appear very deep.


    ¡°Where is the body?¡± his father asked, his voice low and severe.


    ¡°Upstairs, in the master bedroom.¡± Percy replied quietly.


    ¡°Go.¡±


    It was a singular word, but the power and weight behind it coursed through the foyer as the two Crownsguard immediately brushed past them on the stairs. Aryn¡¯s dull blue eyes remained fixed ahead of him, seemingly staring towards his chest and yet not looking at anything at all.


    ¡°Aryn,¡± his father¡¯s voice cut through the room as his boots thumped heavily across the wooden floor. ¡°Are you injured?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine¡­¡±


    His brother had always been a soft spoken person, but the way his voice sounded now sent a chill down his spine. Then he saw it. Flecks of blood, spattered across his neck. It was certainly not from his own wound.


    ¡°Aryn what happened?¡± he murmured lowly, his grip remaining on his shoulders.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°I¡­ I just heard a struggle and¡­ he tried to kill me. He wanted me. Not Percy.¡±


    Why in God¡¯s name would someone want to kill Aryn?


    ¡°How did this man know you were here?¡± his father pressed, stepping even closer.


    His hulking form now towered over both him and Aryn, and he felt it through his grip as his brother shrunk into himself, felt his shoulders bow and cave inward. Aryn was terrified, and all Father cared about right now was information.


    ¡°Back up,¡± he snapped, a bit more pointedly than he meant. ¡°You¡¯re scaring him.¡±


    A subtle scowl arose on his father¡¯s face, but to his surprise, he listened, shifting backwards slightly so that he did not cast a shadow over Aryn. Before further questioning could occur, one of the Crownsguard hurried back down the stairs, handing a bloodied, folded piece of paper to Aleksander.


    ¡°We found this in his pocket, along with a sizable amount of coin.¡±


    His father snatched the note from his hand with cold precision, unfolding it. His eyes focused sharply on the words written in the note, and the expression on his aging face quickly darkened to a quiet wrath.


    ¡°Round up some guards. Arrest him and take him straight to the dungeon. He will be executed tomorrow. Publicly.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± he demanded, turning to face his father but keeping one hand still anchored to Aryn.


    ¡°It seems Lord Poulter was not too pleased to be let go from the council, doubly so upon hearing that Aryn has taken his place. The moronic fool.¡±


    Finally his brother¡¯s face changed, twisting from numb horror into confused shock. ¡°Benjamin did this?¡±


    ¡°Seems that way. We need to get you to the maester,¡± his father stated, zero ounce of emotion in his voice.


    ¡°Wh-what about Percy?¡±


    Aleksander turned towards the young man. ¡°Are you injured?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Shoving the note into his pocket, he turned back to Aryn. ¡°Then he will be fine. Come. We need to get you home.¡±


    He watched as hurt panic began to overtake his brother¡¯s features. Separating them tonight, however much he wished they were not together in the first place, was the absolute last thing that should happen. He remembered all the nights he had heard Aryn wake up screaming and crying, and those nightmares were only the product of finally seeing the light in their mother¡¯s eyes go out. It was nowhere near comparable to the mental Hell he knew was about to ensue after he had been attacked and spilled someone¡¯s life¡¯s blood.


    ¡°Father, do you really expect Percy to stay here tonight? At least give him one of the guest rooms in the castle until someone can get this mess cleaned up.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Someone grab him something to cover up with.¡±


    One of the guards snatched a cloak from a hook by the door and came to put it over Aryn, but he held out a stern hand, asking for the fabric instead. Slowly, he proceeded to drape the cloak around his shoulders, noticing the fine piece of metalwork that made up its chosen clasp. Silver, with dark blue gemstones¡­ just like his brother¡¯s crown.


    ¡°We have to go home now. Percy¡¯s coming with us,¡± he explained, surprised at how gentle his voice sounded.


    Aryn nodded and slowly rose from the stair step, wrapping the cloak tightly around himself in an attempt to keep out the world. The party trekked back to the castle silently, and he accompanied Aryn to Maester Byron¡¯s study. His brother sat in complete silence as the old man tended to his wound. Thankfully the dagger had not sliced very deep, and it was possible there might only be a very light scar. But even the idea of a scar made him feel sick to his stomach for Aryn. It would be a reminder every day that he was forced to take someone¡¯s life. That someone had wanted to erase him.


    Once he had been cleaned and patched up, he made sure Aryn was settled in his chambers. His little brother still refused to say more than a few necessary words, and he couldn¡¯t fight off the knot that continued to take root in his stomach. He had finally just started to bounce back, and he knew this was about to destroy all of the progress Aryn had made since Mother died.


    I have to be there for him this time. I have to.


    An uncomfortable feeling wormed its way into his chest when he realized what exactly that meant. As he quietly closed the door to Aryn¡¯s chambers, he let out a deep, steadying breath. This might be the worst time to do this, but he didn¡¯t see how there could ever be a good time anyway. His feet reluctantly carried him towards the guest chamber, and, pausing in hesitation, he finally rapped his knuckles gently on the door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he called from behind the oaken wood.


    He pulled on the latch and pushed the door open. Percy stood by the window, which was surprisingly popped open, dressed in loose linen pants and devoid of a shirt. The room was beginning to fill with an icy chill, and it sent goosebumps spreading across his own skin. Gingerly stepping into the chamber, he quietly closed the door behind him.


    ¡°I got Aryn settled in. I wanted to see how you were faring,¡± he began awkwardly, attempting to make small talk with the most severe of situations.


    The former smith turned his head slightly to look at him out of the corner of his green eyes. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ alive. That¡¯s more than I can say for that piece of shit rotting on my floorboards.¡±


    He had never heard Percy speak so¡­ ineloquently. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was purely just the situation at hand or that the commoner had begun to feel more comfortable around him, but nonetheless, he¡¯d take it. He cleared his throat and leaned against the door, steadying himself.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you were there to protect him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, talk about a lucky accident,¡± Percy murmured dismissively, drumming his fingers on the windowsill.


    ¡°Only it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    He paused, turning around now to fully face him. He was taken aback slightly by the commoner¡¯s composition; his tall, broad frame and lean yet heavily muscled body nearly made him feel nervous to be in the same room. Percy hadn¡¯t been bred for aesthetics, but function, power, effectiveness. He finally was able to put the pieces together on why there had been so much blood on him from just one man.


    Here¡¯s hoping I don¡¯t ever get on his bad side. Holy shit.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± was all he said, but he heard the severity behind the words, the looming threat in them that didn¡¯t care a single bit who he was.


    ¡°What kind of weapon was the assassin carrying?¡± he asked, quickly changing the subject. It was proving to be a difficult task to ask the damning question.


    ¡°A dagger.¡±


    ¡°And how many times did you stab him?¡±


    Percy paused, locking eyes with him. He saw his green irises shift, that wildness returning that he saw earlier as he recalled the memory. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I lost count.¡±


    A tense, suspenseful silence fell over the chamber as they stared at each other, Percy clearly waiting for him to say what he really wanted to say.


    ¡°Is he happy?¡±


    Percy¡¯s dark eyebrows twitched downward ever so slightly, not understanding the context of his question at first. But soon after, a softer expression came to occupy his tan, rugged face, and he leaned back into the windowsill, lifting his chin slightly.


    ¡°I make sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, but I just cannot understand it¨C¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. But I will tell you right now: if you interfere with Aryn¡¯s happiness, it wouldn¡¯t matter if you were the King himself.¡±


    ¡°Or you¡¯d what, kill me?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Whatever it took. Your brother deserves the world, Philip. And I will not allow anyone, and I mean anyone, to take that away from him.¡±


    The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife as their gaze did not break. But Percy was unfaltering, unwavering.


    ¡°Then I am glad he has you.¡±


    He saw the commoner¡¯s muscular shoulders visibly relax before he strode to the wardrobe and grabbed a long-sleeved linen shirt. ¡°If we are to be transparent with each other now, you¡¯d be a fool to think I won¡¯t go to him tonight.¡±


    ¡°I did not think otherwise. But there will be guards posted at all of our doors. Well, except yours,¡± he pointed out, crossing his arms. ¡°No offense, but my father does not value your life that much.¡±


    Percy scoffed with a dry smirk. ¡°I¡¯m terribly shocked. Then perhaps you could bring him here, dispense of the guards. They would listen to you, you¡¯re their prince.¡±


    ¡°I said I would not separate you two, not that I would enable¨C¡±


    ¡°Philip surely you are not so much of an idiot to think your brother will not do something he will regret if he is left to his own devices tonight,¡± he snapped.


    A prideful anger began to well up inside of his chest, but then he saw the look on Percy¡¯s face. It was fear, genuine fear. That was when he remembered back to a few months ago, when he¡¯d found Aryn walking the parapets like a tightrope.


    ¡°Fine. But you have to make sure no one is around when he leaves in the morning.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t born yesterday, Philip.¡± The harsh look on the former smith¡¯s face softened as he caught his own tone. ¡°Sorry¡­ thank you. Truly.¡±


    With a final warning glance, he turned and left the room, heading towards Aryn¡¯s chambers.


    ***


    Truth be told, his hands were still shaking.


    He had been dreaming of them, swimming in that spring buried deep in the forest during the summer. They¡¯d made love on the bank of it, but as they were splashing around in its cool, refreshing waters, Aryn had been dragged under. And all he¡¯d heard was him screaming his name.


    In those few short moments, he wasn¡¯t Percy. He wasn¡¯t anyone. Instead, he had been a mission. A singular mission, with the sole purpose of eliminating what had had Aryn in its lethal clutches. And when that dagger had sliced across his chest, all he could see was red. Deep, hateful, murderous red. Something buried inside of him kept driving that knife into the man¡¯s chest, demanding penance, demanding carnage. It wasn¡¯t so much for the little physical damage he had done, but for the damage that had been intended the moment that son of a bitch entered their home. And for the lasting damage that would now surely ensue afterwards.


    He¡¯d wanted to do more than plunge that dagger into him. He¡¯d wanted to gouge his eyes out, rip his stomach open and feed him his own innards, slowly tear him limb from limb, starting with his fingers. But Aryn had called his name, and he¡¯d realized just how closely he''d danced with the Devil.


    He was still not completely himself when Philip had come to talk to him, and his choice of words towards the prince had been far from ideal. But they were real: pure, and raw, and truthful. He hadn¡¯t realized the horrendous, unspeakable lengths he would go to for Aryn, to protect him, to protect his happiness. But that was the side of love no one ever wanted to talk about. About just how much it could turn you into a monster.


    But he was fine being a monster. He was fine being anything he needed to be if it meant keeping Aryn alive, and safe, and happy.


    The latch on the door clicked open, and he whirled around to see him slipping in through the threshold. The door was shut quickly, presumably by Philip. He wasn¡¯t sure if he and Aryn had had a similar conversation, or if there¡¯d been no conversation at all, but any and all of those thoughts left his mind as the prince bolted towards him, into his arms.


    His entire body was trembling, and he could feel how unnaturally cold he was. He wrapped his arms around him so tightly he thought he might break Aryn in half, but there was no protest to be heard. Cold. He was so goddamn cold. He turned to close the window, but delicate hands suddenly grabbed at him, terrified and desperate.


    ¡°No,¡± he begged, the single word filled with so much panic and fear that it tore his heart into pieces.


    He squeezed him even tighter in response, beginning to rock gently side to side as one of his hands cupped the back of his head. ¡°Okay¡­ I¡¯m right here. I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±


    A small fire blazed in the simple hearth built into the guest chamber. Eventually he would guide them over towards it, but right now they remained rooted in place. Aryn had acquired a vice grip on the back of his shirt, so much so that his nails dug into and tore slightly at his skin. It didn¡¯t phase him. He would let Aryn slice him to ribbons if it kept him calm.


    ¡°I killed him, Percy,¡± he whispered against his chest, his voice choked with tears.


    He found his fingertips slowly and rhythmically rubbing his scalp, trying desperately to apply more pressure somewhere, to distract him and keep him anchored.


    ¡°Shh, it¡¯s all right¡­ you¡¯re all right,¡± he murmured, resting his chin on top of his head.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to,¡± he whimpered. ¡°Why did he have to do that? I don¡¯t understand¡­¡±


    He felt the front of his shirt growing wet, and a quiet anger began to boil up inside of him as tears threatened in his green eyes. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t, baby, I know. It¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°What did I do?¡± he cried softly, his voice a near whisper.


    He knew the question wasn¡¯t about what he¡¯d done to that man. It was about why that assassin had been there, for him. Why Benjamin had felt enough hatred towards him to want his life extinguished.


    ¡°Nothing. You did nothing,¡± he whispered against his hair. His hand moved to cup his face, feeling the tears coating his cheek. ¡°Look at me.¡±


    Broken blue eyes connected with his, Aryn¡¯s face as white as a ghost.


    ¡°No matter what happens, I will always be there to protect you. I¡¯ve done it twice now, and I will continue to do so, until we are two sets of bones in a joint grave. Do you hear me?¡±


    Aryn¡¯s face contorted with sorrow, but he nodded in understanding before shoving his face into the side of his neck. His arms wrapped tightly around him once more as he kissed the top of his head, breathing him in. They remained as they were for a long while, their bodies slowly rocking side to side in primal comfort.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna shut the window, okay?¡± he stated softly. ¡°Then we can lie down.¡±


    Aryn didn¡¯t respond, only tightened his grip, but as he shifted his weight towards the open window, the prince followed. Using only one hand, he pulled the glass shut and latched it before guiding them over to the bed. He quickly pulled the thick fur blankets over them, desperate to shield Aryn from the reality of the world as he held him to his broad chest. The prince wrapped himself around him, slinging his leg across and tucking his foot under his thigh. If Aryn could have crawled into his skin, he would have. But the best he could do was hold his head to his chest while he rubbed his back, taking care to tuck the blanket beneath Aryn¡¯s side.


    Neither of them slept. As he lay there, his mind raced, wandering to dark, dangerous territory. Benjamin was a right cunt, but even something as unspeakable as this seemed out of reach for his entitled morals. It didn¡¯t add up.


    As he gently played with Aryn¡¯s hair, trying desperately to lull him to sleep, he couldn¡¯t ignore the unrest in the air. Something was changing.


    War had now come to their doorstep.

 Twenty-Two

    The smell. That¡¯s what he kept remembering. When Percy had carried him from the room, his nostrils had been assaulted by the scent of sickeningly sweet iron. And now as he lied in bed, it kept coming back to him, swiftly and unexpectedly. Both of their breaths were shallow, and he knew neither of them would find sleep tonight. As much as he tried not to think about it, the carnage replayed in his mind, over and over and over again. He kept seeing the murderous rage in Percy¡¯s eyes, more and more blood splattering across his face with each stab of the knife, like war paint. In that moment, he had been scared. Scared of him.


    He heard birds chirping outside the bedroom window as his head swam with exhaustion. Percy, who had dozed off and jolted awake a few times over the night, now slowly sat up in the bed, brushing the ashen hair from his forehead.


    ¡°We have to get you back to your room, before everyone wakes up,¡± he murmured quietly.


    Every word was laced with caution, as if the simple act of Percy speaking would shatter him to pieces. He knew he had to leave, but his body refused to move. His mind was struggling to form advanced thoughts, and the only thing that he was certain of at that moment was that Percy would keep him safe; he should not leave Percy.


    ¡°Aryn¡­¡±


    Strong hands, hands that had been coated in a man¡¯s blood, gently grabbed his shoulders. The movement barely existed, instead it was more like a suggestion, as he began to sit him up. But he allowed it. His body felt unbearably heavy, as if he were fighting against the earth itself just to move. His dull blue eyes remained fixed at a nonspecific spot on the blanket, his consciousness elsewhere.


    Large palms cupped his face as his gaze was forced upward. His emerald eyes had finally lost that wildness, and Percy looked at him as if he were a wounded, dying animal.


    ¡°You have to go back to your room.¡±


    A gentle thumb brushed across his cheekbone, and Percy leaned towards him. The dagger flashed in his mind, the man bolting at him. He flinched away. The look that appeared on Percy¡¯s face was composed of pure heartbreak.


    ¡°Baby I¡¯m not going to hurt you¡­¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered.


    A heavy sigh escaped Percy¡¯s lips as he ever so gently ran a hand through his icy blonde hair. ¡°You don¡¯t need to apologize, love. But you have to get back to your room.¡±


    The repetition of the message finally reached his ears. Nodding, he slowly pulled the covers off of himself, and the cold air bit at his skin. He had dressed warmly in linen pants and a thick sweater, but something about being exposed, even just a little bit, kicked up a trembling deep in his core. He slid out of bed and dragged his feet to the door, dread beginning to crush his chest.


    ¡°Aryn.¡±


    As he placed his hand on the door, he turned his head towards Percy. He was propped up on an elbow, his curly dark brown hair a tangled mess. Dark circles occupied the skin beneath his eyes, but there was an intensity in his green irises as he looked at him.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to be okay. I promise.¡±


    Their eyes remained locked as he stood there for a moment, frozen. Thoughts raced through his mind, memories of his mother telling him similar things¡­


    ¡°You can¡¯t promise that,¡± he murmured lowly. ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    His tan face shifted into an expression of confusion, of hurt. ¡°Aryn¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the execution,¡± he mumbled before slipping out of the room.


    The sun had not yet risen, and thankfully no one was traversing the large halls. He quickly made his way back towards his chambers, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he kept checking behind himself. Eventually he made it back to his door, and instead of two Crownsguard stationed there, he saw a familiar face.


    ¡°Ser Donal?¡±


    The seasoned man turned to receive him, giving him a quick bow. ¡°Prince Aryn, is everything okay? Philip asked me to switch out with the guards a few hours ago, but I assumed you were in your room¡­ I suppose knowing you, I should have known better.¡±


    The older knight gave him a playful yet kind smile. There was a fatherly expression in his blue-grey eyes, a look of intense, unspoken worry.


    Ser Donal had been his mother¡¯s sworn protection when she became Queen. He had not seen much of the man since her death, as he had been brought back into the Kingsguard. But throughout that time, the knight had protected him as well. Watching over him while he grew up, it was safe to say Ser Donal knew him better than Father ever would.


    ¡°I could not sleep, as you can imagine,¡± he explained vaguely, his voice devoid of life. ¡°When did Father say the execution was to begin?¡±


    ¡°Lord Poulter is being retrieved from the dungeons at sunrise, so presumably shortly thereafter,¡± he stated dutifully.


    ¡°Then I must be getting ready.¡±


    He went to grab the latch of his door, but Ser Donal sidled in front of him.


    ¡°Aryn¡­ I would be remiss in my duty to protect you if I did not say that perhaps you should not attend. You do not need to see any more men die, child.¡±


    Blue eyes locked with grey, and he saw Donal¡¯s expression shift as his own eyes darkened uncharacteristically.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°I know it has been some time, Ser, but unfortunately I am not a child anymore.¡±


    The knight tilted his chin downward as his bushy brows furrowed. ¡°Aryn¨C¡±


    ¡°Besides, Father has demanded I be there. So the matter has already been settled,¡± he cut off. ¡°Now if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±


    A subtle look of disappointment came over Ser Donal¡¯s face, but he stepped aside silently and let him pass. He slipped quickly into the room, the sudden silence now bearing down on him. His chest started to grow tight, and as he looked down at his hands, dark brownish red was crusted beneath his nails. It felt difficult to breathe, like invisible fingers now wrapped around his throat and were beginning to slowly squeeze tighter and tighter. The edges of his vision grew blurry, and suddenly the ground grew closer. He reached out to catch himself as he collapsed to his knees, his chest feeling as if it were being crushed.


    In a couple hours, he would watch Benjamin¡¯s head roll. He would watch that axe come down on his neck, and watch as his blood covered the platform like a spilled barrel of wine. All because he couldn¡¯t mind his own business at that ball. All because his pride had gotten the best of him, because he was sick of being treated as lesser than. Was that what it would come to to just survive? To continue to cower and shut up and stay silent, to continue to be bullied and shut out and isolated?


    Life had to be more than that. It had to be more than this game of walking on eggshells.


    Percy made it more than that.


    ¡°No matter what happens, I will always be there to protect you. I¡¯ve done it twice now, and I will continue to do so, until we are two sets of bones in a joint grave.¡±


    Except it hadn¡¯t been twice; it had been three times. He¡¯d saved his life the day they met each other, by asking him to come back. By making him see that there was at least one person who valued him. And as the past few months had gone by, he¡¯d found himself slowly changing. He would wake up in the morning without that tightness in his chest. He¡¯d look in the mirror and actually find something to appreciate. He had found a voice, a confidence he never had before.


    And I was so hurtful towards him¡­


    He knew Percy had been trying to do something, anything, to make him feel even slightly less afraid. But in that moment, everything seemed like a lie, and he couldn¡¯t believe in the promise he had tried to make. Right now he couldn¡¯t believe in anything, have faith in anything. Except that Percy would protect him, no matter the cost. It was the singular solace he was able to have. But his jumbled up mind had tried to push him away.


    A knock sounded on the door, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was still on his hands and knees on the floor, his body shaking for some reason. His breath still burned in his throat, but instead of being suffocated, he now felt tears quickly welling in his eyes. When he didn¡¯t answer, the door was pushed open anyway.


    ¡°Jesus Christ, Aryn,¡± Philip exclaimed quietly, closing the door and throwing himself onto the floor next to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± he struggled to get out. ¡°I just¡­ need a minute.¡±


    He flinched as Philip¡¯s hand came to rest on his back, an immediate sense of embarrassment washing over him. But his brother was not phased, and instead his other hand gently pulled the hair away from his forehead.


    ¡°You¡¯re burning up,¡± he murmured worriedly.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he insisted.


    The softest plop sounded on the rug beneath him as dense tears fell from his eyes, and his body continued its uncontrollable shaking. It was as if he had lost his autonomy, and something else rooted deep inside of him was forcing its way out. He tried his best to fight it, to resist it, but the more he did, the stronger it became, until finally all he could do was give in to it.


    His body trembled and lurched as violent, gut-wrenching sobs clawed their way out from the depths of his soul. He didn¡¯t fight it as he felt Philip¡¯s arms wrap around him and pull him close. They sat with his brother¡¯s back against the bed, his shoulder digging into his stomach as his head was held tightly to his chest. His cries gave him scarce room to breathe, and thus oxygen entered his lungs only through desperate gasps. The world around him swam and blurred. He reached his hand up to grip Philip¡¯s shirt, trying to retain his small grasp on reality. His brother squeezed his body to him, almost so much that it hurt, but it kept him grounded.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you,¡± he murmured, resting his chin on top of his mop of ashen hair. ¡°I¡¯ve got you¡­¡±


    It felt as if all of the grief, all of the fear and anxiety and despair that had been eating away at him was being physically expelled, his soul simply unable to contain any more. It wouldn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°Do you remember when we were children,¡± Philip began softly. ¡°And we were learning how to swordfight? God, Father would get so frustrated when you refused to practice. And one day he asked you why, why did you not want to carry a sword? Do you remember what you told him?¡±


    The memory formed in his mind, fuzzy and vague. But as much as he wanted to respond, his body would not let him. All that came out of his mouth was another sob. Philip brushed the hair from his forehead again, repeating the motion in a slow, soothing fashion.


    ¡°You said your books were your sword, and that only stupid people needed swords to solve their problems, like me and Father.¡±


    A quiet chuckle escaped his brother¡¯s chest, followed by a sharp inhalation of breath. It was at that moment that he realized Philip had begun to form tears in his eyes.


    ¡°Good Lord did he skin your hide for that one. And when Mum found out, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen her get that angry before. She threw her shoe at him after she saw how red your behind was.¡±


    That memory, however, was clear as glass. He let out a breathy, involuntary laugh before burying his face further into Philip¡¯s chest, his heart aching for more of the brotherly warmth he was being given.


    ¡°She really never backed down to Father. You know, sometimes you act just like her, and you don¡¯t even notice. Like when you told me off after Percy¡¯s accident. Or when we were talking the other week when we went for that ride. You have that quiet strength of hers, that silent resilience. I wish I had more of that.¡±


    His hand continued to comb through his blonde hair, and slowly his breath started coming back to him. The sobs began to cease, his tears beginning to dry up, as he kept his grip on Philip, leaning into him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine how terrifying it must have been,¡± he stated quietly. ¡°But you have to remember that you survived, Aryn. You fought back. Never forget that, when it came down to it, you refused to give up. You refused to be a victim. Find strength in that, okay?¡±


    As his words sank in, a strange sense of calm started to wash over him. He took in a deep, shaky breath, his chest achy and sore. The trembling throughout his body began to ease as Philip slowly and gently rubbed his arm, keeping him close.


    ¡°I will go speak with Father. You do not need to see¨C¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he interrupted. ¡°I need to be there. I have to face him.¡±


    A silence settled over the room for a moment, Philip¡¯s hands stilling.


    ¡°Aryn, are you certain?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    His brother moved his hand to his back. ¡°Then I will make sure to stand by your side.¡±


    As they sat on the floor, his eyes wandered over to his dresser, to where his crown sat atop its cushion. Philip was right; he refused to be a victim any longer. He refused to be a victim of his father, of Benjamin, of anyone else who looked down upon him. He needed to take control, starting with this. And maybe, just maybe, he would be able to prove his strength to himself.

 Twenty-Three

    The heels of his black boots clicked densely on the dark stone floor as he followed behind Ser Donal. He had decided to dress all in black, not to mourn Benjamin, but to mourn for himself. It had been less than half a day, but it did not take a genius to tell that something within him had died last night, that last piece of privileged innocence he had still clung to now turned to ashes in his mouth. His black cloak flapped quietly behind him as they moved swiftly, coming to a steep set of spiral stairs. It was then he realized that he had never been to the dungeons before; they were definitely just as ominous and depressing as he thought they would be.


    Torch in hand, the older knight guided them down the steps, the trek rather long. They traversed in silence, but he could feel the unspoken tension brimming in the air, the questions Ser Donal very clearly had brewing within his seasoned mind. Aryn could not blame him. He hadn¡¯t so much as spoken with the man for over six months until this morning, and he knew just how jarring it must have been to discover that the young prince he had known did not exist anymore.


    Finally they reached the bottom of the staircase and swiftly headed down the corridor. The stench of the place was pungent, almost rancid. No doubt there were some cells that housed only rotting corpses. He would have to be far more naive than he already was to think his father did not have numerous enemies, enemies that he would most certainly see fit to carry out their punishment in the form of a horrible, slow death.


    Distant, low cries and groans of misery echoed throughout the dungeon corridor, making his hair stand on edge. He felt his chest tighten slightly as Ser Donal placed a precautionary hand on the hilt of his sword and quickened his pace.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be down here, Your Highness,¡± he mumbled tensely. ¡°Your father would have my head if he knew¨C¡±


    ¡°My father is already getting someone¡¯s head today,¡± he cut in. ¡°The least he could do is allow me to get some answers from the owner before it rolls.¡±


    Sighing heavily, the knight remained silent, continuing to guide him towards where Benjamin¡¯s cell was. The closer and closer they got, the faster his heart raced. He wasn¡¯t sure exactly what he was going to say to him, or ask him, but all he knew was that he needed something. Closure, perhaps? Or justification? A small part of him did still feel guilty for his current grave predicament. But only a pathetic, cowardly man would want to take someone¡¯s life because they finally decided to stand up for themselves.


    ¡°Right there, on the left,¡± Ser Donal pointed out quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting here when you¡¯re done.¡±


    He nodded in understanding at the knight before turning to face the end of the hallway, his sharp blue eyes drifting towards the cell. His breathing unstable, he walked slowly towards the bars, the personal prison cast in deep, oppressive shadows. A figure laid huddled on the ground, covered in what appeared to be a torn up cloak. As he stepped up to the iron bars, the toe of his boot dislodged a small piece of stone, sending it skittering across the floor. Benjamin bolted upright with a gasp, whipping around to face him. With what little light there was, he could still make out the absolutely terrified expression on his dirtied face. That was when he realized.


    They had tortured him.


    Save for the cloak, he was naked. His body was covered in bruises and gashes, his face swollen and bloodied from merciless beatings¡­ the way Benjamin cowered from him told him everything he needed to know.


    He stood there for a moment, silent, as they locked eyes. It was becoming difficult to breathe as innumerous thoughts and memories raced through his mind, some older or newer than others. A deep, dark part of him raked his eyes over the nobleman and felt satisfied, vindicated.


    You deserve this. For everything you did to me. How you made me feel.


    I was just a child.


    ¡°A-Aryn?¡± he stuttered, his voice filled with helplessness and fear.


    ¡°Benjamin.¡±


    His voice was cold and bitter. It almost made him sick to his stomach as he realized what its likeness was.


    ¡°Aryn please¡­¡± he crawled towards the edge of his enclosure painfully, wincing as he dragged himself across the jagged stone floor on his hands and knees. ¡°Please you have to help me.¡±


    A cruel, disbelieving scoff escaped his lips. ¡°Help you? After everything, you want me to help you? Benjamin I always thought you were dense, but this is a new level of idiocracy.¡±


    As his filthy hands wrapped around the bars, his stomach sank. He was missing fingernails.


    ¡°Aryn please, you have to believe me,¡± he begged. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me.¡±


    He furrowed his brow in deep confusion. But confusion quickly turned to fury.


    ¡°I saw the note, Benjamin,¡± he stated, his voice raising. ¡°There is no getting out of this now. At least have the decency to be honest with me in your last moments.¡±


    The nobleman collapsed forward, racked by hopeless grief. He watched with subtle disbelief and disgust as tears flowed freely from his dull eyes, dripping to the floor.


    ¡°Aryn I swear¡­ I swear on my life, on my father and mother and sister¡¯s lives, I did not send anyone to kill you. Please, I don¡¯t want to die¡­¡±


    ¡°How did you know where I was?¡± he pushed, his voice low and merciless.


    Benjamin sighed sharply, the noise filled with hopeless frustration. ¡°I already told your father¡¯s men, I didn¡¯t. I had no idea where you were last night, I wasn¡¯t even thinking about it because I did not send an assassin to kill you.¡±


    Red slashed through his vision as he lunged at the bars.


    ¡°It was in your handwriting!¡± he snapped. ¡°Stop lying to me!¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Fine, don¡¯t believe me. I¡¯m already dead anyway, even if I didn¡¯t send him,¡± he mumbled defeatedly, his voice dripping with bitterness.


    ¡°What else have you done?¡± he demanded.


    Benjamin scoffed. ¡°Only spoken the truth.¡±


    He felt the back of his neck grow hot as his impatience began to boil over. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    The nobleman¡¯s expression twisted as he stared at him, morphing into a look of hatred and disgust.


    ¡°That Oliver Farrington overheard most of our conversation at the ball, and proceeded to account it to your father in great detail upon their return last night. You think Aleksander would still let me live if I had insinuated that his son is a deviant?¡±


    His skin grew hot, to the point where it felt as if he would burst into flames. The breath entering his lungs did so difficultly, his chest quickly tightening and his head beginning to spin as he realized what had transpired. A far more characteristically smug, condescending smirk now made its way to Benjamin¡¯s dirt-covered face.


    ¡°I always knew there was something abhorrently wrong with you¨C¡±


    ¡°Shut up¡­¡±


    Benjamin raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. ¡°I never thought you would find such a strong, irritating voice, you know. But I shouldn¡¯t be surprised, assuming how much you probably scream when you¡¯re with that disgusting comm¨C¡±


    Without thinking, his hands shot through the bars, gripping at Benjamin¡¯s naked throat. The metal rang loudly as the nobleman¡¯s face slammed into the iron.


    ¡°I already killed a man today,¡± he growled, his nails digging into Benjamin¡¯s neck. ¡°Don¡¯t think it would not give me great pleasure to rip out your tongue before I send you to the chopping block.¡±


    The clanging of armor quickly grew closer before a strong pair of hands were on him, pulling him away from the man. His nails raked across his skin, drawing blood as he was yanked back. Benjamin hissed and winced, swiftly retreated back into the cell as he held his throat.


    ¡°Aryn, that¡¯s enough,¡± Ser Donal commanded. ¡°He will get what he¡¯s owed soon. We must return before anyone finds out.¡±


    He breathed through clenched teeth, and his hands ached to wrap themselves around his weasley, lying throat again. Gloved fingers tightened on him as he entertained the idea of fighting against the knight, but the more rational side of his mind broke through the cloud of violence. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he eased himself to Ser Donal¡¯s side.


    ¡°You know, Benjamin,¡± he began. ¡°I used to hate you. I used to be scared of you, with the way you embarrassed me, towered over me. But now, I just feel sorry for you. All you are is a tiny little man full of bitterness and insecurity. And I may not be perfect, but at least I have the balls to be truthful with myself. I only hope you can do the same before your time is up.¡±


    Without another glance, he turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon.


    ***


    He stood on the opposite end of the platform from Aryn, next to Oliver. The wind was heavy and unrelenting, whipping cloaks across bodies with near painful force. It had been a long time since he¡¯d seen an execution, not since the war had just started; he was fifteen at the time. Someone had tried to burn down the guard barracks in the middle circle in protest and ended up killing four men.


    The boy had been younger than he was then.


    But the person who kneeled at the chopping block today was not some dumb boy. It was the man who had tried to take everything away from him, who had stolen something from him and Aryn they would never get back. As a pair of Crownsguard pushed Benjamin to his knees, a pit of dread formed in his stomach when the nobleman turned and looked at him, a knowing expression on his dirty face.


    ¡°Lord Benjamin Poulter,¡± Aleksander¡¯s voice boomed across the gathered crowd, stifling any anxious noise that had preceded it. ¡°You have been charged and found guilty of treason, by orchestrating the assassination attempt of Prince Aryn Stewart.¡±


    His green eyes were frozen to where Benjamin kneeled, watching as the man¡¯s body trembled with cold and fear. The headsman lumbered forward, but Aleksander stepped up and intercepted him, reaching out a hand. No one in the crowd dared to speak as the hooded man handed the King his greatsword. He could feel his own breath halting within his chest, his heart beginning to race in macabre anticipation.


    Aleksander positioned himself to the left of Benjamin, the tip of the greatsword resting on the wooden platform.


    ¡°Do you have any last words you wish to say?¡±


    The nobleman¡¯s gaze bore into the floor beneath him as the color drained from his face.


    ¡°I did not hire that man to kill the prince.¡±


    The air felt like it had been ripped from his lungs as a wave of confusion slammed into him.


    He¡¯s just saying that¡­


    ¡°But I wish I would have,¡± he declared louder.


    Gasps could be heard from within the crowd as a low buzz of protest began to grow louder and louder.


    ¡°This family is nothing but a bunch of liars, and dictators, and sinners!¡± he shouted. ¡°And I thank whoever was brave enough to do it, because the Stewarts need to be erased, starting with that abhorrent brat of a prince¨C¡±


    The Crownsguard came and shoved him back down onto the block as the crowd began to cry out in disbelief. His gaze shot over to Aleksander, whose jaw was clenched so tightly he was afraid it might break. The King¡¯s grip on the greatsword tightened, and he moved to swing it overhead as Benjamin twisted his head to look up at him.


    ¡°I hope Farmond murders you all! Every last Ste¨C¡±


    The blade came down with a sickening shunk as his final words were cut short. Dark crimson flowed from the stump of his neck like some sort of vampiric waterfall, spreading quickly in an ever-growing pool on the wooden platform. The crowd went dead silent once more as the nobleman¡¯s head tumbled forward and onto the ground, landing with a wet thud.


    ¡°Clear the square,¡± Aleksander ordered. ¡°This is over.¡±


    Everyone in the crowd began to scatter like roaches back to their shops or homes as a horrible dread continued to bore into his stomach. A pair of guards grabbed Benjamin¡¯s headless body and dragged it from the platform, but his attention was on Aryn. He was surprised to see that the prince¡¯s expression was not one of shock, but of quiet anger and disappointment, as if he knew that Benjamin would say what he just did.


    Aware that his stare was lingering too long, he moved it to Oliver, which did not help to settle his unease. The nobleman¡¯s face was drained of color as he stared at Benjamin¡¯s severed head, his amber eyes dancing wildly with racing thoughts. He supposed Oliver was just as shocked as he was, trying to make sense of it all.


    ¡°A lying bastard to the end,¡± he mumbled quietly, stepping closer to the nobleman as the wind picked up again. ¡°You¡¯d think in your final moments, you¡¯d have some shame or humility.¡±


    He was looking to make idle conversation, anything to cut through the growing tension in the air. But Oliver did not reciprocate. Instead he remained staring at Benjamin¡¯s head.


    ¡°Oliver, what is it?¡± he prodded, turning his chin now to look directly upon him.


    The nobleman shook his head, his brow furrowing. ¡°No. You heard what he said. Those are the words of a man with nothing to lose.¡±


    His heart sank into his stomach. ¡°What are you implying?¡±


    Amber eyes connected with his, the winter clouds casting dark, gloomy shadows over them as the wind howled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he was lying.¡±


    ¡°And if he wasn¡¯t?¡± he pressed, his throat turning bone-dry.


    ¡°Then we have bigger issues than Benjamin and his fat mouth,¡± Oliver declared gravely. ¡°Whoever sent that assassin is still out there, and is a lot smarter than Poulter.¡±


    His green eyes drifted back towards Aryn, who was now conversing lowly with Philip. Thoughts raced through his mind, weighing and rationalizing all of the information, and nausea formed deep in his gut as Benjamin¡¯s final words now hung over him like an omen.

 Twenty-Four

    The soft, rhythmic scratching of the brush blended in with the other sounds that filled the stable. There was a constant background noise of snorts, knickering, and the quiet, dense clopping of hooves on dirt as horses shifted in their stalls. It was just enough to keep everything from being too silent, too lonely. As he dragged the brush down the side of Dancer¡¯s neck, his head slowly drooped and drooped, his warm brown eyes beginning to close.


    When he had finally decided to pick his own horse, just as Philip had, Mother had taken him on a trip to all of the most prestigious horse breeders in the countryside. Father had argued about the sheer unnecessariness of it all, citing every manner of danger they might encounter outside the capital, but she didn¡¯t care. It was something she wanted to do with her son.


    They had visited upwards of four ranches without success; none of the horses had stuck out to him. He feared his indecisiveness would irritate Lydia, but it had made her all the more happy.


    ¡°We have all the time in the world. You should not settle for something out of convenience,¡± she had said.


    And so finally at the fifth ranch the owner had shown them numerous horses, all beautiful and well-trained. None of them spoke to him still, that was until they were walking past one of the round pens used for training. He watched as a young white-colored colt charged at the man training him, forcing him to throw himself over the fence. The horse could not have been more than a year of age, as he was still growing into his legs, but he had begun trotting around the pen and tossing his head. Almost like he was frustrated. Trapped.


    That was when he had stepped away from the ranch owner and his mother as they were discussing possibilities of maybe waiting to see what their pregnant mares had to offer soon. The colt¡¯s nostrils were flared as he snorted and knickered in a low tone, still pacing around the ring. His own feet seemed to guide him right up to the fence, and he leaned against it while resting his arms along the wood.


    ¡°Boy! Get back!¡± the trainer had shouted, still dusting himself off. ¡°He¡¯s too wild.¡±


    As the horse rounded the left side of the pen, he began trotting towards him. Instinctively, he sat up off of the fence slightly, just in case he did have to move quickly, but he did not back away. The colt ran up to the fence, head still tossing, as he blew hot air into his face. His large nostrils worked furiously as he took in Aryn¡¯s scent, his wild brown eyes scanning him as if he were not sure if the prince was a threat or a friend.


    He did not reach out, just simply let the colt analyze him at his own pace. He sniffed and sniffed, then suddenly reared back and took off again around the pen with a squeal. His legs were still too long for him, and so he stepped high and long as he trotted, almost like he was doing some sort of strange dance.


    ¡°He needs more space. More freedom,¡± he had said to the trainer. ¡°Could someone bring him to an empty pasture for me?¡±


    The trainer and the owner looked at each other hesitantly, but the former retrieved the lead rope from the ground and went to open the gate.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he had cut in, walking over to the trainer quickly as he held out a hand.


    Their expression changed from hesitancy to concern, but they obliged and handed him the rope. Gently unlatching the gate, he slipped inside and stayed hugging the fence, not wanting to encroach on the colt. Even if it took an hour, he would wait for the horse to come to him. Thankfully it hadn¡¯t taken that long, as the colt had quickly noticed his intrusion. He trotted over to where he stood, his ears pinned back. He could feel the nervousness radiating from the two men behind him.


    He didn¡¯t move a muscle as the horse sniffed at him again vigorously, tossing his head after a moment. His ears however now began to rotate more forward, and he took his chance to slowly hold the lead rope up to him. More sniffing ensued, but the colt¡¯s reaction was far more docile. Very, very gently, he began to loop the rope through his halter, being careful not to accidentally tug on it. The colt knickered lowly at him, an indication of his nervous curiosity. But thankfully he managed to successfully secure the lead rope, and he turned to signal for the men to open the gate.


    ¡°You wanna go run?¡± he had murmured to the colt softly.


    The horse replied with another low knicker, and he couldn¡¯t fight back the smile that grew on his face as the colt lipped at his hand. He turned and began to walk towards the pastures, and the surprised look on the men¡¯s faces made him want to laugh. The soft clop of hooves on dirt sounded behind him as the young horse followed him, and soon they had arrived at the gate to one of the pastures, walking inside the large enclosure.


    The difference in the horse¡¯s attitude was immediately apparent, and he began pacing in place with excitement as the urge to take off boiled up inside him. He quickly but gently untied the lead rope, and the second the colt felt it slide off, he bolted. For how awkward his legs were, it sure didn¡¯t stop him from going faster than he had ever seen a horse gallop before. A long, high-pitched whinny rang out from him as he sprinted to the end of the pasture, his light grey mane and tail whipping in the wind as he bucked between strides. He felt his heart swell with joy as he watched the colt run.


    You¡¯re just like me, huh?


    Finally the horse came back around to where he stood at the entrance to the pasture, his nostrils flaring with deep breaths and his ears perked fully forward. He took a chance and slowly reached his hand out. The colt lifted his head quickly, not expecting the gesture, but as he held his hand in place, his head slowly lowered, coming to nudge his palm with his large nose.


    ¡°This one,¡± he had said with finality.


    The owner turned to his mother. ¡°Your Grace, this colt is not even broken yet¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± he had cut in, giving no room for argument.


    ¡°See? He¡¯ll manage,¡± she had replied back with a smile. ¡°Please make all the preparations for us to take him home.¡±


    The men wandered off to prepare what was needed, leaving them alone for a moment. He heard the soft swishing of grass beneath his mother¡¯s feet as she approached the gate.


    ¡°Do you have a name in mind?¡± she had asked softly, her voice as sweet as honeysuckle.


    As he ran his hand along the horse¡¯s muzzle, he shuffled his hooves beneath him, his own little way of showing excitement it seemed. He chuckled softly and began scratching beneath his chin.


    ¡°Dancer.¡±


    ¡°There you are.¡±


    He halted his brushing and turned to spot Percy standing behind the stall door, a gentle smile on his tan face. He returned the expression before running the brush along Dancer¡¯s back.


    ¡°How was the council meeting?¡±


    ¡°Well, your father finally listened to me again, so I¡¯d say it went quite well. Oh, and your brother is coming over tomorrow evening,¡± he explained, putting his gloved hands in his pockets.


    ¡°Philip?¡± he prompted curiously with a furrowed brow. ¡°Was this his idea or yours?¡±


    ¡°His, surprisingly. Wants to share ideas or something like that. I personally think he¡¯s just trying to keep a closer eye on me,¡± he murmured as he leaned through the opening in the door.


    He scoffed playfully. ¡°Why, what did you do?¡±


    ¡°I may have threatened to kill him last week,¡± he explained sheepishly, pressing his lips together.


    He whipped his head around to give him an incredulous look.


    ¡°Percy¡­¡±


    ¡°I know, I know. But I wasn¡¯t thinking straight, for obvious reasons. Look, everything is fine. I didn¡¯t mean it¡­ Well, not really¨C¡±


    ¡°Percy.¡±


    A boyish laugh sounded from his broad chest before he carefully slid the stall door open, slipping inside. He proceeded to lean against the side of the stall, crossing his arms out of habit.


    ¡°He¡¯s quite a beautiful horse,¡± he remarked, his tone becoming softer.


    A gentle, pensive smile spread across his lips. ¡°Thank you. He¡¯s like my best friend. We just¡­ understand each other.¡±


    He watched as Percy held his hand out to Dancer, letting him become accustomed to his scent. The Arabian groggily sniffed at his knuckles, still half-asleep from the hypnotizing brushing he had been receiving, but soon started to nudge and lip at Percy¡¯s palm.


    ¡°He thinks you have treats,¡± he pointed out, a playful smile growing on his fair face.


    ¡°That¡¯s because I do,¡± Percy stated cheekily, retrieving a handful of sugarcubes from his coat pocket. ¡°You think I would formally introduce myself to your best friend unprepared?¡±


    A disbelieving chuckle escaped his lips as his smile turned into a grin. ¡°Where did you steal those from?¡±


    ¡°I bribed one of the stablehands to fetch me some.¡±


    He transferred a singular sugarcube to his right hand, offering it to Dancer on a flat palm. The horse swept it up with his lips efficiently before getting smart and prodding his nose at Percy¡¯s left hand.


    ¡°Alright, hold on, you greedy little gremlin,¡± he jested, unable to suppress an amused laugh.


    He attempted to sequester the treats from Dancer by lifting his hand above his head, but that quickly resulted in the horse accidentally pinning him to the wall as he stretched his neck upward, relentlessly lipping at his hand. In a mixture of amusement and a tiny bit of panic, Percy began to laugh uncontrollably.


    ¡°Clearly you haven¡¯t been around horses very much,¡± he pointed out over his lover¡¯s cackling.


    His chest filled with warmth for the first time in several days as he watched Percy fail to defend himself against Dancer¡¯s gluttonous assault. Amused laughter of his own bubbled up and out of his chest as he finally decided to step in, shouldering in between Percy and his horse. Dancer had grown even bolder and began nipping at the young man¡¯s glove, attempting to remove it. He placed his hands flat against his horse¡¯s thick chest and applied pressure, pushing him backwards.


    ¡°Dancer, that¡¯s enough,¡± he chuckled, driving his shoulder into the stubborn Arabian as he continued to nip at Percy¡¯s hand in defiance.


    Eventually his own stubbornness won out, and Dancer slowly took a couple steps back, although he still strained his neck towards the nice young man with a handful of treats. He snickered in frustration and tossed his head, accidentally bonking it into Aryn¡¯s.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he warned. ¡°Calm yourself, brat.¡±


    Dancer snorted but began to settle, hearing the shift in his owner¡¯s tone. His feet started in on their characteristic shifting as he stood there impatiently, still thinking about the sugar cubes he knew were present. With an amused huff, Aryn turned and held a hand out to Percy, motioning for him to step closer.


    ¡°I would keep them in your pocket if I were you,¡± he suggested with a smirk. ¡°Harder to get at. He should behave now, right mister?¡±


    Dancer snickered lowly in response, turning his large head to lip at Aryn¡¯s forearm. Percy approached again, a tentative closed-lip smile on his tan face, as he held out another cube on a flat palm. The treat disappeared as quickly as it was presented, and so Percy methodically began replacing it with a new one every time Dancer stopped chewing.


    An unexpected weight settled in his chest as he watched them bond, as he watched Percy. Ever since the events of last week, he had found himself unable to¡­ well, be touched. Romantically, to be specific. Being vulnerable like that now struck up a chord of fear inside him, and every time Percy tried to touch his skin, or especially run his fingers through his hair¡­ all he could feel were those cold, alien hands grabbing at him.


    He had been staying at the castle since the execution under the excuse that Philip and Father wanted to keep a closer eye on him for a little bit. But in truth, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to go back to the estate. Percy had told him everything had been taken care of, that the flooring had been replaced, but no amount of erasing could remove what had been burned into his mind. He was beginning to come to terms with what they both did, individually. Sometimes he would look at Percy and still see all of that blood on him, that feral look in his eyes, but it didn¡¯t scare him anymore. Some twisted part of him found it comforting to know that he would and did go to such violent lengths to protect him, that that was now part of his instincts.


    ¡°Are you coming over later?¡± his deep, gentle voice drew him from his thoughts.


    He blinked and glanced up at Percy, not realizing his gaze had dropped towards the ground. A gnawing sense of guilt started to eat at the center of his stomach.


    ¡°No, Philip is still really worried about me, and I don¡¯t think Father would let me leave the castle grounds yet without protection following me at least.¡±


    It was subtle, but he caught the shift in his green eyes, that almost imperceivable amount of deep disappointment. But the corner of his lips twitched upward into an understanding smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s all right. Perhaps you could come with Philip tomorrow. He can be your protection,¡± he jested.


    He forced himself to smile back. ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah, that could work. I¡¯ll uh, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    Percy rubbed his gloved hand up and down Dancer¡¯s muzzle before stepping over to him. He quickly stuck his head out of the opening in the stall door, glancing around, before slowly and carefully taking his hand in his.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re still working through things. And by no means do I want you to feel guilty about how you¡¯re processing and coping. Just remember you can talk to me, okay?¡±


    He felt his throat start to close up as he nodded silently, afraid that his voice would crack if he spoke. Noting the hesitancy on his tan face, he couldn¡¯t help himself when he braced slightly as Percy carefully leaned forward. His mouth hovered for a moment before he placed a gentle, featherlight kiss on his cheek, his green eyes shimmering with emotion as he pulled away.


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    His breath was wrenched from his lungs as guilt crushed at his chest. He squeezed Percy¡¯s gloved hand tightly, trying to ignore the trembling in his own hands.


    ¡°I love you too. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°No sorries. Not for this. You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. As long as it takes, I¡¯ll wait¡­ I just want you to be happy.¡±


    His blue eyes began to sting as tears threatened in his eyes. An invisible force seemed to pull at him, pulling him towards Percy, and without thinking too much he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to his lips.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow,¡± he murmured quietly, almost in a whisper.


    A soft, hopeful smile spread across Percy¡¯s face as a spark entered his green eyes, and with one last squeeze of his hand, he nodded and slipped out of the stall, disappearing around the corner.


    He finished brushing down Dancer¡¯s coat, taking the time to feed and water him and clean his stall out as well. Something about the mundane work helped ground him, distract him. It felt nice to have a physical purpose every once in a while, no matter how simple. Now with a bit of muck on his boots, he kissed Dancer on his large cheek before closing up his stall for the evening, heading back into the castle proper.


    He nodded in instinctual greeting at the guards who opened the main doors for him before making his way towards the kitchens, his stomach grumbling slightly. Delicious smells of cooking meats and seasoned vegetables wafted down the back hallway. The grand kitchen was abustle with numerous servants rushing to and fro, each carrying various ingredients or tools in their hands. They all stopped and bowed briefly as he passed by before hurrying back to their work.


    His feet carried him over to the large cooking hearth where an older woman was stirring multiple pots at a time. A warm, comfortable smile spread across his face as he approached.


    ¡°Evening Gloria,¡± he greeted over the bustle of the kitchen.


    She looked over at him with slightly cloudy eyes before a large grin lit up her aging face. ¡°Evening, Your Highness. Grabbing some supper again?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± he confirmed, leaning against the stone wall. ¡°What have you got cooking there?¡±


    ¡°Well, the others are preparing the real dinner for your family tonight. But seeing as you¡¯ve been coming down here and rustling around my kitchen this week, I figured I¡¯d make your favorite.¡±


    Her crow¡¯s feet grew more prominent as she smiled at him again, her expression settling into a more endearing look.


    ¡°Beef and vegetable stew?¡± he guessed, his stomach growing beneath the buzz of the kitchen.


    ¡°Right you are. It¡¯s almost ready. If you get peckish later tonight, don¡¯t hesitate to come down and grab another bowl. I¡¯ll leave the pot simmering for ya,¡± she offered, her old voice motherly and kind.


    ¡°Thank you, Gloria. I really appreciate it,¡± he stated softly.


    She began to ladle the stew into a deep wooden bowl for him. ¡°Are ya doin¡¯ all right, lad? I know you don¡¯t like to eat with your father, but you¡¯ve never visited the kitchens this much. Not since you were a wee one when you got bored.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve just needed some time by myself,¡± he explained vaguely, not wanting to leave her without some sort of answer. ¡°I¡¯m okay though. Promise.¡±


    Her weathered hands passed him the bowl, along with a spoon and a thick piece of bread. ¡°Well if you need some sweets for a pick-me-up, you know where to find me.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but give her an endearing smile as he accepted the food, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.


    ¡°Thank you, Gloria. I¡¯ll leave you to it then.¡±


    She simply nodded and returned to her cooking, her cloudy eyes focusing on the task at hand again. He carefully made his way back to his chambers, trying not to spill the steaming hot liquid on his hands as he balanced the bread on the lip of the bowl and his fingers. Finagling his door open, he gingerly placed the items on his desk before snatching the current book he was reading from its shelf. The smell of the aging paper tickled his nose as he flipped it open to the page he had left off on, and he plopped down in his plush desk chair with relief.


    A comfortable silence filled his room as the only noises he could hear were the soft crackling of the fire and the occasional turn of a book page. Absentmindedly, he would periodically shove a spoonful of stew into his mouth, his eyes never leaving the written words, until he realized the utensil was no longer sequestering much liquid. He sopped the remnants up with the bread before pouring himself a small glass of wine and migrating to his armchair by the fireplace. Only the last few chapters of his book remained before a harsh, assertive knock rang out against his door.


    With a furrow of his brow, he saved his place in the novel and pushed himself from the chair, striding towards the door. His stomach dropped as he opened it to reveal his father, a serious, unimpressed look on his face.


    ¡°Father, I thought you would be having dinner.¡±


    ¡°We did,¡± he stated flatly, his tone blatant with accusation as he saw his cold brown eyes glance over at the empty bowl on his desk. ¡°I see you couldn¡¯t be bothered to join us again.¡±


    He pressed his lips together with a sigh and hesitantly stepped back from the doorway, reluctantly inviting him in. Aleksander didn¡¯t bother to sit as Aryn closed the door behind him. His large presence now filled his once cozy room with a sense of cold tension, and he leaned against the door anxiously while he waited for his father to say something.


    ¡°Do you understand what being appointed to the council means?¡± he started patronizingly, looking down at him.


    ¡°Father¨C¡±


    ¡°It means actually attending the meetings. For Christ¡¯s sake, I asked one thing of you, and yet you cannot even seem to do that.¡±


    His chest quickly grew tight as he found it difficult to take a full breath, his blue eyes instinctively turning downward towards his father¡¯s boots.


    ¡°Father, I fully intend to take my appointment seriously. I just need some time¨C¡±


    He scoffed. ¡°Some time? To do what, uselessly sulk in your room again? The matter has been handled, you are safe. Grow up, Aryn,¡± he spat. ¡°Look at me when I am speaking to you.¡±


    He hesitated for a moment, panic manifesting in his chest as he rapidly attempted to push back the tears beginning to well in his eyes, before raising his gaze. His teeth clamped down on his tongue in desperate effort.


    ¡°We are at war. You are going to have to grow far tougher skin than this, boy.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t start the war,¡± he mumbled sourly, looking up at Aleksander through his lashes.


    Heat discolored the King¡¯s face as he set his jaw impatiently.


    ¡°Then maybe if you saw to your responsibilities on the council, you could help me end it quicker. At least that blacksmith boy is useful. He¡¯s done more good for this kingdom in a month than you ever have.¡±


    ¡°Because you haven¡¯t let me do anything,¡± he snapped, raising his voice. ¡°You forbade me from getting involved in politics until now. You only made me come to certain balls to keep up appearances. You won¡¯t even talk to me about what¡¯s happening with the war, with Westgarde. I have to hear everything through Philip¨C¡±


    ¡°That is because you are unreliable,¡± he shouted back. ¡°All you have been to this family is a liability, and I was content to let your mother play house with you because it kept you contained.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, because God forbid I escape from my cage and actually impact something,¡± he hissed, tears stinging his blue eyes.


    ¡°Cage?¡± Aleksander shot back, daring him to speak again.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what this is, isn¡¯t it? You can deny it all you want, but a golden cage is still a cage, Father. And you have trapped me within it ever since you found out you couldn¡¯t control me¨C¡±


    ¡°You have built your cage yourself, Aryn,¡± he growled.


    ¡°How?¡± he interrogated frustratedly. ¡°Because I¡¯m not exactly how you wanted me to be?¡±


    ¡°Because you are an embarrassment to this family!¡± he roared with clenched teeth.


    ¡°You¡¯re the embarrassment,¡± he shot back without thinking.


    A sharp, crushing pain radiated across his cheekbone as the back of his father¡¯s hand connected with his face, sending him stumbling. He caught himself on the bookshelf but didn¡¯t dare to move, his gaze fixated on the floor while his vision grew blurry with tears. His breath burned in his throat as he dug his nails into the wood.


    ¡°One of these days you will understand your place in this world,¡± Aleksander stated, his voice low and cold. ¡°For your sake, I hope it is sooner than later.¡±


    Without another word, he strode past him and slammed the bedroom door shut with a resounding boom, causing the walls to shake slightly.


    He squeezed his eyes shut as tears cascaded down his cheeks, his lip beginning to tremble. The right side of his face throbbed relentlessly. His chest grew tighter and tighter, until it felt like he was suffocating, as if a boulder was crushing him. He hadn¡¯t been allowed time to grieve. And now he wasn¡¯t being given time to even process his own attempted murder.


    Was he truly so weak? So pathetic? Maybe he had been using Percy as a shield this whole time, someone to buffer the world for him. Maybe he wasn¡¯t getting better, getting stronger.


    Father was right. He was embarrassing, a leech that had nothing to offer their family except for unnecessary strife. It was always someone taking care of him, someone protecting him. What did he have to give to anyone else? What value did he provide other people?


    And Percy¡­ his life was perfectly fine, perfectly normal until he had barged into it. He had made him his involuntary savior, had put that weight on him so selfishly without thinking of the implications. His entire life had been uprooted, disrupted because of him. All he ever did was bring chaos anywhere he went. Maybe he should have just left this world with Mother. It seemed like everyone would be better off.


    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± he cried in a whisper.


    The floor drew closer as he fell to his knees and cradled his face in his trembling hands, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs. It was too much. Everything was too much. The world hurt too much.


    It felt as if there were a million horrible thoughts and emotions running through his veins, begging to get out. He couldn¡¯t hold them all in; it was eating him alive, suffocating him, killing him. They clawed away at him, right beneath his skin, demanding release.


    Tears still streaming down his face, he clumsily rose from the floor and stumbled over to his desk, yanking the drawer open and retrieving the small knife hidden within. His feet carried him into the washroom, a singular thought screaming incessantly within his mind. He desperately stripped himself of his clothes and climbed into the tub. The container was cool and soothing against his hot skin, and it grounded him just enough to steady his thoughts.


    ¡°Whenever you feel that way again, I want you to come to me. I don¡¯t care what hour it is, or even if I have upset you, you come to me.¡±


    But he couldn¡¯t talk this out. Not right now. He needed those feelings, those thoughts, gone, expelled as soon as possible. And he couldn¡¯t bear the idea of telling Percy that part of this was because of him, in a twisted roundabout way.


    So with a trembling exhale, and another cascade of tears, he put the blade to his thigh.

 Twenty-Five

    The cold, dark wind whipped at his face and legs relentlessly, sending deep shivers throughout his body as he quickly trekked towards the castle. He knew something was missing after he left the council chamber, but in his distraction from thinking about Aryn, he hadn¡¯t been able to place it until he had gotten back home. He just hoped no one had searched his satchel and perused his sketchbook.


    After a brief introduction and explanation (thankfully they had recognized him), the guards at the main door let him in. He hurried up to the third floor of the castle and pushed the heavy oak doors to the council chamber open, rushing towards the chair he typically sat in. A wave of relief washed over him as he spotted the simple brown bag beneath the table; he must have accidentally kicked it under when he¡¯d stood. Gathering it up, he exited the large room in a far less panicked state.


    As he descended the stairs and began to make his way back to the entrance of the castle, a quiet but insistent urge pricked at the back of his mind.


    No. He needs his space. He¡¯ll come to you when he¡¯s ready.


    He would be lying though if he said it hadn¡¯t been extremely difficult for him. His physical needs he could take care of on his own, but what ate at him was the distance he could sense growing between them. He knew there were things going on in Aryn¡¯s head that he wasn¡¯t telling him, things that were also wearing away at him. But whatever it was, especially regarding his newfound discomfort with intimacy, it pained him that Aryn was hesitant to divulge the truth to him.


    ¡°Percy?¡±


    His head turned in the direction of a familiar voice to spot Philip making his way out of the throne room. He nodded at him in greeting, pressing his lips together in a tight, polite smile.


    ¡°Evening, Philip. Sorry to show up unannounced. I forgot my bag,¡± he explained, gesturing to his satchel.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s no problem. I was actually hoping to see you again. Could you give this to Aryn? It¡¯s a rundown of today¡¯s events at the council meeting. Figured he¡¯d want to know.¡±


    His brow furrowed in confusion as Philip handed him a letter with a simple seal. He took it from him hesitantly, a strange dread beginning to pit in his stomach.


    ¡°Is he not in his room?¡± he questioned.


    It was now Philip¡¯s turn to look puzzled. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t believe so. I knocked on his door, but he didn¡¯t answer, so I figured he was with you.¡±


    Suddenly his heart dropped to his feet, and the prince¡¯s expression quickly grew more troubled. Without another word, he rushed down the hallway towards Aryn¡¯s quarters, fear gripping at his insides. He banged on the door with the side of his fist.


    ¡°Aryn?¡± he called nervously.


    No answer.


    He tried the door handle, and to his relief it was unlocked. Without a second thought, he shoved it open and flung it closed behind him, glancing about the room wildly. He wasn¡¯t in his bed, nor at his desk or by the fireplace. Had he slipped out, ran away to somewhere within the city? It wasn¡¯t safe.


    ¡°Aryn,¡± he called again before rounding the doorway to the washroom.


    His heart stopped beating.


    Icy blonde hair poked out from the lip of the tub, but he could smell it. The blood. He rushed around the side of the bath, unable to breathe.


    He lay in the tub completely naked, curled up into a ball as his fist loosely clutched a knife in its grasp. A small, thin pool of blood sat beneath him, and numerous long, horizontal cuts lined the inside of his thighs. His pale face was wet with tears as he stared back at him with the most devastating look in his eyes. But what stuck out to him in that moment was the deep red bruise that had taken over his right cheekbone.


    Aryn¡¯s fair features contorted into an expression of absolute sorrow and, to his own confusion, what appeared to be mortification. But it didn¡¯t take him long to put the pieces together.


    Me seeing this¡­ This is his worst nightmare.


    His mind was racing a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what to do, where to start. Eventually he kneeled next to the tub and slowly, ever so carefully, reached a hand out.


    ¡°Aryn¡­ I promise everything will be okay. But I need you to give me the knife.¡±


    His fragile body shuddered with a defeated sob, but to his immense relief, Aryn slowly presented the knife to him with a trembling hand. He gently peeled his bloodied fingers off the handle before setting the weapon to the side, his green eyes now traveling downward to urgently assess what damage had been done. It was hard to tell underneath all of the dried blood, but thankfully none of the cuts looked deep. And they didn¡¯t appear to be actively bleeding any longer. Very briefly, he allowed a small sense of comfort to wash over him.


    ¡°Percy? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Philip¡¯s voice suddenly called from inside the bedroom. The terror that entered Aryn¡¯s eyes was enough to make him shoot to his feet from the washroom floor and clumsily rush out into the main chambers. He saw Philip standing by the door, starting to make his way inside, and immediately blocked his path. The crown prince stared at him in fearful confusion, straining his neck to catch a glimpse at where Percy had just hurried out from.


    ¡°Is he in there? Aryn,¡± he called, shouting past Percy¡¯s shoulder.


    Without thinking, he put his hands on Philip¡¯s shoulders and forced him out of the room, swiftly shutting the door behind them.


    ¡°Who the fuck do you¨C¡±


    ¡°Philip, please, I need you to listen to me,¡± he begged, his voice hushed and low. ¡°He is okay, but I am telling you he would be irreparably devastated if you walked in there right now. Do you trust me?¡±


    A painfully long silence ensued, maybe not quite as long as he believed, but the look Philip was giving him made it seem like decades.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    He released the breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding.


    ¡°I need you to get some linen cloth and ointment from the maester¡¯s quarters. If Byron asks, I¡¯m sure you can come up with something. And also hot water for a bath, if you could ask the servants for some as soon as possible.¡±


    He could see the conflict dancing on the surface of Philip¡¯s sharp, handsome face. The man was not used to being told what to do, let alone by a commoner. If this were any other person of nobility, they would spit on him and laugh in his face. Or worse, throw him in a stockade. But in their brief time together, he knew Philip was not any other nobleman.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll go ask for the water first then. But only if you swear to me that my brother is okay. Elsewise you will not stop me from opening this door again.¡±


    There it was. It was subtle, but as they stared at each other, he spotted the shift in his rich brown eyes. Aryn hadn¡¯t shared much about the details of their relationship, or what exactly they had been through together, but now he knew. He could see that cold, desperate fear that Philip tried so hard to keep buried, a type of fear that only came from seeing its nightmare so close to fruition, so capable of being real. But if there was one good thing that that fear told him, it was he now knew Philip truly loved Aryn.


    ¡°I swear on my life.¡±


    With only a nod, Philip turned and hurried down the corridor towards the servants¡¯ quarters.


    A heavy silence settled over him for a moment as he reached for the door handle. He didn¡¯t know how he was going to fix this. But all that mattered right now was making sure Aryn was okay. They could talk about it later, or not at all; he didn¡¯t care. He just wanted him to be all right, to feel safe and cared for. With a shaky, steadying breath, he pushed the door open once more. Upon entering the washroom, he saw that Aryn had sunk farther into the tub, holding his face in his hands. His heart sank as he spotted a light red welt beginning to form on the outside of his leg, an injury that had not been there a moment ago. Slowly, he made his way to the side of the tub so as to look upon Aryn¡¯s face, kneeling once more.


    ¡°Philip¡¯s going to get water for the bath so we can clean you up. He doesn¡¯t know what happened, I promise.¡±


    No response. That was when he noticed how Aryn was subtly writhing around in the tub, not quite in pain but¡­ he truly didn¡¯t understand what was happening. This was completely out of his depth.


    ¡°My love¡­ can you look at me, please? I just want to make sure you¡¯re okay.¡±


    His body shuddered again.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he finally whimpered, his hands tightening their contact with his face as the writhing intensified.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you?¡± he murmured gently. ¡°Aryn, I already told you, there is nothing you could do that would scare me away.¡±


    ¡°It should¡­¡±


    The back of his neck grew hot with anger.


    ¡°No, it shouldn¡¯t. I mean, for the love of Christ, you saw what I did to that man and you didn¡¯t run away. Aryn look at me.¡±


    Ever so slowly, he finally withdrew his hands. His blue eyes were dull and bloodshot, his face pale and flushed all at once, and that bruise¡­


    ¡°I love you, more than my words could ever express. Remember when I told you that if I were so bothered by the things that haunt you, I wouldn¡¯t be here? I¡¯m here. And I¡¯m not leaving. Ever.¡±


    If he had tears left to cry, they would have slipped out of his eyes. But instead Aryn¡¯s face twisted up again with heartbreak, and he turned his head away.


    A quiet knock at the door was his saving grace, and he stood quickly and made his way out of the washroom. He found four buckets of steaming water sitting in front of the door without an owner. It seemed Philip had been thoughtful enough to ask the servants to use discretion. Gripping the handles, he hoisted two of them up and carried them carefully into the washroom, then went back and did the same with the remaining. Opening the linen cabinet, he fetched a thick washcloth and dipped it into one of the buckets, moving to wipe the blood from Aryn¡¯s legs.


    Trembling fingers grasped his wrist with a surprising amount of strength, stopping him in his tracks.


    ¡°Please, just¡­ let me do it,¡± he murmured quietly.


    Pausing, he slowly lowered the washrag before letting Aryn take it from him. Instead, he dragged one of the buckets over to the side of the tub.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be in the bedroom when you¡¯re done so we can wrap them up, okay?¡±


    Aryn nodded numbly, no longer looking in his direction, as he began slowly wiping at his thigh, his blue eyes becoming severely more distant. As hard as he tried to fight it, his heart continued to crack, and he quickly snatched up the knife on the floor before departing from the washroom.


    A few minutes went by as he anxiously waited in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, his knee bouncing up and down rapidly, before another knock sounded on the door. He shot up from the chair and yanked it open to reveal Philip, who held in his arm a thick wrap of linens and a small jar. Sighing heavily, he took the items from the prince.


    ¡°How¡¯s he doing?¡± Philip asked quietly.


    He wanted to lie, to tell him Aryn was fine. Physically, it wasn¡¯t entirely false. But mentally, emotionally¡­ This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    His dark curls bounced slightly as he shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m trying my best but¡­ it¡¯s like he¡¯s been completely shattered. I think¡­ I think your father struck him.¡±


    Philip¡¯s warm brown eyes quickly grew dark and cold. ¡°I¡¯m sorry what?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a deep bruise on his cheek,¡± he murmured, his voice low and hushed as he glanced down the hall briefly. ¡°Now maybe he slipped in the tub but¨C¡±


    Suddenly the prince turned, prepared to bolt down the hallway. He snatched Philip¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Hey. The last thing that needs to happen right now is you confronting him and causing even more commotion. Save the matter for tomorrow.¡±


    The prince¡¯s eyes were still glued down the hallway.


    ¡°Philip.¡±


    He sighed angrily. ¡°When he wakes up in the morning, take him to the estate. I don¡¯t want him anywhere near here when that happens.¡±


    ¡°Done. Go find Oliver. You need to let off some steam.¡±


    Philip looked at him now with conflict written all over his face. His own expression quickly softened.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got him. I promise.¡±


    The crown prince took a deep breath before finally conceding and turning down the opposite hallway towards Oliver¡¯s chambers.


    He quickly sequestered himself back in the armchair, picking up the book that had been left on the small table next to it. Flipping through the pages, a small, heartwarming smile slowly spread across his lips as he took in all the little notes Aryn had written in the margins. His attention was split between the novel and keenly listening to the sounds coming from within the washroom. Eventually the noises ceased, and he quickly stood from the armchair and went to the large dresser, fishing out some comfortable clothes for Aryn to wear.


    Eventually the door to the washroom opened, and the prince wandered out of it wrapped in a simple robe. His gaze was almost as distant as when he¡¯d started to clean himself up, but at least he was no longer visibly trembling. Percy grabbed the jar of ointment from the table and placed a hand on the back of the armchair.


    ¡°Come here,¡± he murmured gently.


    Aryn shuffled over and plopped down into the cushions heavily, not making eye contact. He kneeled on the rug and opened the jar, swiping a good amount of the ointment onto his thumb before hesitantly shifting Aryn¡¯s robe out of the way. Watching the prince¡¯s face carefully, he gently traced his finger along the first wound, immersing it in the healing ointment. The flesh beneath glistened with a dark pink hue, and Aryn tensed slightly as the balm seeped into the cut. With no blatant protest, he gently and methodically continued to cover the rest of them, being careful not to press hard.


    He almost fell backwards as suddenly Aryn shot to his feet, wrapping the robe tightly around himself, and began pacing the room. His face looked pained, uncomfortable, panicked even. He found his brow furrowing with concerned confusion as he stood from the floor, setting the ointment jar aside.


    ¡°Aryn, what¡¯s¨C¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± he shouted. ¡°Just stop, it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s too much.¡±


    He froze in place, his green eyes glued to him with shock.


    ¡°What is?¡± he asked almost in a whisper.


    Aryn whimpered in frustration and ran his hands through his hair so hard it was as if he were trying to pull it out.


    ¡°Everything! I can¡¯t do this right now,¡± he cried, tears cascading down his cheeks. ¡°It¡¯s just too much¡­¡±


    His feet pulled him towards where Aryn was pacing, and his hands came to grasp him by the arms as he guided them over towards the bed. He sat down on the edge while keeping the prince in front of him, sliding his hands to meet Aryn¡¯s.


    ¡°Tell me what you¡¯re feeling,¡± he murmured gently.


    He swallowed harshly and gasped for air, his face quickly growing wet as he couldn¡¯t seem to stand still. It was just like the writhing he¡¯d been doing in the tub.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m suffocating,¡± he whimpered breathily. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m trapped and I can¡¯t breathe and I wanna crawl out of my own skin¡­¡±


    He could see the panic quickly welling up inside of him and stood from the bed, gently grasping his tear-stained face in his hands.


    ¡°Then we¡¯re gonna breathe, okay? Hey, look at me. Can you breathe with me?¡±


    Initiating, he took a slow, deep breath in, his thumb brushing the tears from Aryn¡¯s cheek as he held the prince¡¯s gaze. His thin frame shuddered as he attempted to draw a breath between his sobs, the effort shaky and jagged. But he was breathing. So he did it again, all the while keeping their eyes connected. Aryn¡¯s breath was longer, more sustained, before he let it go in another sob. And again. This time the exhalation was unsteady, but there were no more cries to be heard. And once more. Finally, their breaths were similar, their chests moving in sync as Aryn wrapped his hands around Percy¡¯s wrists and pressed their foreheads together.


    ¡°Do you want to sit?¡± he whispered in suggestion.


    ¡°No,¡± a chord of panic struck up in his fragile voice again. ¡°No, I need to move¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ Then we¡¯ll move,¡± he confirmed softly.


    Their bodies began shifting from side to side in a slow, rhythmic fashion. He kept his hands where they were, not wanting to change anything, to disturb anything. A few moments of silence passed as Aryn kept his eyes closed, focusing on his breathing.


    ¡°Do you want to talk?¡±


    His voice was so tentative, so tender that it didn¡¯t even sound like himself for a moment. Aryn blew out a steadying breath between pursed lips.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where to start¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, what¡¯s the first thing coming to your mind?¡±


    He gently brushed his thumb over Aryn¡¯s left cheek, apprehensive about the right side. Judging by how potent the bruise was, he could only imagine how sensitive his cheekbone felt. He forced down the quiet anger that began to bubble up inside.


    ¡°That I don¡¯t deserve you,¡± he whispered.


    His thumb halted as he drew his face back slightly to look upon him better.


    ¡°Now why in the world would you think that?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯ve given me everything,¡± he said with a sharp sigh. ¡°And all I¡¯ve done is fuck up your life. You were hurt because of me. Nearly murdered because of me. You bloodied your hands for me¡­ and all I¡¯ve had to offer you is this.¡±


    ¡°Aryn, I don''t think you realize how extraordinary you are. You have the kindest soul of anyone I¡¯ve ever met, you¡¯re incredibly brilliant, and intuitive, and artistic¡­ you have such a generous heart, and I know you don¡¯t see it, but there are so many people around you who are thankful for you. Like all of the servants. Aryn they love you. They would do anything you ask, not because you¡¯re their prince, but because they want to do it for you.


    ¡°And in terms of what you have to offer me? I had no idea who I was before I met you. I worked, and worked, and slept, and did it all over again for years. Meeting you, I realized what I really wanted, what I was so desperately missing in my life. I love you endlessly, unfathomably, timelessly. I would not trade what we have for the world. I would climb mountains for you, swim across oceans for you, face entire armies for you, if it meant I could still get to love you. And I know you don¡¯t see that in yourself, and you don¡¯t believe me, but I will spend every moment that we¡¯re together trying to convince you of it.¡±


    Tears now flowed freely from his deep blue eyes as his grip on his wrists tightened.


    ¡°But I won¡¯t even let you touch me right now,¡± he cried softly.


    A heat quickly rose on the back of his neck. He wasn¡¯t angry at Aryn, only angry at the fact that he still felt so guilty about it.


    ¡°So? Fuck that. I don¡¯t care. All I care about is your welfare, your happiness. And I know you¡¯ve been blaming yourself so harshly because it seems that I haven¡¯t been affected by what happened. But we come from different worlds, different experiences. And I¡¯d be lying if I said I haven¡¯t had nightmares, haven¡¯t been constantly looking over one shoulder some days. It¡¯s been a week, Aryn. Give yourself some grace.¡±


    ¡°But I miss you,¡± he whispered desperately. ¡°I miss your hands and your lips, and the way you touch me, the way you love me¡­ that¡¯s why I¡¯m so goddamn frustrated.¡±


    His green eyes began to sting as tears now threatened to spill from them. ¡°I miss you too¡­ But I¡¯m not willing to hurt you, however accidental it may be.¡±


    ¡°I want to try,¡± he insisted quietly, blue eyes shimmering with a newfound determination. ¡°If we never try¡­ then we can¡¯t move past it.¡±


    An apprehensive longing stirred deep within his chest at the possibility. To even be able to hold him again, feel his skin again¡­


    ¡°You tell me what you want,¡± he declared. ¡°I¡¯ll only do what you ask me to.¡±


    ¡°My hair,¡± he stated. ¡°Touch my hair.¡±


    Slowly, he slid his hand backwards from Aryn¡¯s cheek, letting his fingers gently comb through the side of it. He quickly closed his blue eyes, a mild sense of discomfort dancing across his fair features. But he didn¡¯t withdraw, so he continued to run his fingers through his icy blonde locks, now playing with the slightly longer strands on top.


    ¡°You tell me when to stop,¡± he reaffirmed softly.


    His other hand remained cradling his porcelain face, but that changed as Aryn drew it downwards with his own and placed it on top of the opening in his robe, on his chest. Using only his fingertips, he carefully traced across his collarbone as he watched Aryn closely. He felt him stiffen up beneath his touch, but he continued to slowly glide his fingers over his skin. Eventually, that tension within his body eased up, and his blue eyes fluttered open to look at him.


    ¡°You okay?¡± he whispered, the hand he had in Aryn¡¯s hair halting.


    ¡°Kiss me,¡± he whispered back, his voice almost too quiet to hear.


    For once, he hesitated. Aryn¡¯s confidence seemed more like a stubborn defiance of his anxiety. But it was what he wanted. And they could always stop, whenever he needed to.


    Brushing his thumb along Aryn¡¯s jaw, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. The kiss was light, and brief. But after pulling back for a moment, they connected again. And so he slowly, gently peppered Aryn¡¯s mouth with kisses. Nothing sustained, nothing expectant. Just one moment at a time.


    Hesitant hands toyed with the bottom of his shirt before eventually finding their way underneath, timidly exploring the landscape of his abdomen. It sent a wave of warmth down his spine. He had missed those hands, so desperately and terribly missed them. He wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and have those hands discover every inch of him.


    He found his hand traveling from Aryn¡¯s hair down to his waist as, to his surprise, the prince connected their lips this time. As he tried to pull away, Aryn followed him, not allowing their mouths to separate, so he fully leaned into the kiss instead. Their lips now moved in tandem as Aryn slid his hands up to his chest beneath his shirt.


    ¡°Percy¡­¡±


    He strained forward slightly as Aryn pulled away, desperate to hold on to the moment. But he looked into his blue eyes expectantly, wondering if something had happened.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Why are you crying?¡±


    What?


    He reached up with one hand and quickly wiped at his face in confusion, pulling away with tears on his fingers. A sharp sigh escaped his chest as he shook his head.


    ¡°I just¡­ I just missed you.¡±


    Smaller, more delicate hands now reached up and held his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m right here. Maybe not fully here but¡­ here enough,¡± he declared with a breathy laugh.


    He laughed back with a sniffle, fighting the urge to continue wiping at his face to erase the evidence. Instead he let Aryn embrace him. Now it was his turn to close his eyes.


    A soft, tender kiss was placed on his jaw. Then another on his neck.


    ¡°I love you so much,¡± he whispered against his tan skin. ¡°Thank you for taking care of me¡­¡±


    ¡°Always,¡± he whispered in return, fighting back the emotion that threatened in his voice.


    ¡°Can we lie down?¡±


    Reopening his eyes, he nodded with a soft smile and went to climb into the bed, but Aryn¡¯s hand caught him by the arm.


    ¡°You¡¯re not sleeping in your day clothes. Take them off.¡±


    He raised a cautious eyebrow at the prince. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I want to feel you again,¡± he murmured quietly, his tone resolute.


    Conceding, he stripped down to his undergarments and jumped into the bed, flinging open the large fur blanket as an invitation.


    ¡°Well come here then,¡± he goaded playfully, a cheeky smile spreading across his lips.


    Aryn shyly smiled back before crawling into bed, settling in next to him with his head on his broad shoulder. Beneath the blanket, his slender fingers traced all over his muscular torso, rediscovering and noting all of the little scars or prominent freckles that dotted his tanned skin. The quiet crackling of the dying fire filled the space with a constant comforting noise.


    ¡°Shit, we didn¡¯t wrap you up,¡± he murmured, remembering the linen bandages that sat on the table.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, it would just chafe them anyway. Best to let it breathe. Trust me,¡± Aryn explained quietly, his voice becoming more distant and reserved.


    He found his hand migrating back to Aryn¡¯s hair, gently combing through the ashen locks.


    ¡°Last time we slept together in this castle, it was a very different situation.¡±


    ¡°Mm, kind of. I was going mental both times so not too different,¡± he jested dryly.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± he warned before placing a kiss on top of his head. ¡°You really need to be nicer to yourself.¡±


    ¡°I used to be a lot meaner before you came along,¡± Aryn pointed out. ¡°I guess you¡¯ve softened me up.¡±


    He chuckled softly and shook his head, a warm smile playing at the edges of his mouth.


    ¡°Well we¡¯ll have to keep working on that then. But for now, you should get some rest,¡± he stated, tilting his chin down to look upon the prince. ¡°I¡¯m whisking you away to the estate in the morning per your brother¡¯s request.¡±


    Blue eyes looked up at him, puzzled. ¡°Not that I¡¯m complaining, but why?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s planning on having a conversation with your father about¡­ what happened between you two tonight,¡± he explained apprehensively.


    The look on his fair face shifted as he now glanced away. ¡°It¡¯s better just to leave it alone¡­ Philip doesn¡¯t need to get in trouble for me.¡±


    ¡°I know, but he wants to. Let him stick up for you for once.¡±


    The idea made Aryn pause, and after a moment he burrowed deeper into his shoulder.


    ¡°Well it¡¯s his funeral. I¡¯m too exhausted to care about that right now,¡± he resigned, a yawn overtaking his features.


    Giving in to the sudden urge, he tilted Aryn¡¯s chin up with his fingers. Blue eyes met with green before he leaned down and pressed a final kiss to his lips.


    ¡°Goodnight, my love.¡±


    A soft pink rose on Aryn¡¯s cheeks as a warm, timid smile spread across his face.


    ¡°Goodnight, Percy.¡±


    There were a million things that he could have thought about just from today that would have kept him awake all night. But the one thing that his mind kept settling on was that Aryn was in his arms again, safe and loved and cared for. And with that sentiment, he slept well for the first time in a week.

 Twenty-Six

    He stood at the entrance to the east wing, his hands shaking. The hallway was extremely dim, and thick, oppressive shadows consumed any space where a window did not dominate. Percy had told him to seek Oliver, to displace his aggression in far less provocative ways, but as he had been marching towards the nobleman¡¯s quarters, something had pricked at the back of his mind. Something he had buried and ignored for months.


    Regardless of how it had been done, he knew his brother had injured himself. What angered him most was not that the incident had happened, but that it clearly could have been avoided. In spite of the recent circumstances, Aryn had been doing far better than anyone guessed he would. And if he had just been given some time, a little bit of goddamn grace¡­


    He had never been able to talk with Aryn about the things that went on in his head. Not to the extent that he knew Mother could. And that¡¯s what had brought him to the opposite end of the castle. His trembling hands reached for the double doors, and taking a slow, quiet breath, he pushed them open to reveal a massive study. It looked more like a full-on library with the amount of bookshelves that completely enveloped the stone walls, almost all of them filled to the brim with tomes. Moonlight filtered into the chamber and cast a dim blue glow over everything. Naturally it felt eerie, but there was a certain peacefulness that the moonlight carried with it.


    As his brown eyes scanned over the room, he caught sight of a cluster of long dormant candles, but nothing to light them with. Quickly retreating, he stole a small sconce from the wall and lit the wicks, placing them around the room. The small columns of melting wax now filled the space with a soft, intimate light, and he could more clearly see what still resided in the study.


    His feet shuffled over towards the large writing desk that sat in front of one of the grand windows. A quill and inkpot still occupied the corner of it. He felt something tug at his fingers, willing them to open the drawers and see what remained. A multitude of papers in various states of organization were piled up inside a deep sidedrawer, and without thinking, he gathered them up and placed them on the desk, spreading them out. Some appeared to be scribbled drafts of letters or poems, while a few it seemed she had gone so far as to seal them. His attention was naturally drawn to the latter, and as he flipped them over, his heart plummeted.


    Five letters, all sealed with their family crest, all with different names on them, or something adjacent to names. Aryn, Aleksander, Philip¡­ then the other two sported the titles of ¡°Aryn¡¯s Beloved¡± and ¡°Philip¡¯s Beloved¡±. They didn¡¯t say bride, or wife, or princess or queen, just beloved. Meant for the people he and his brother truly loved the most. For him, it was Dahlia. He had gotten unfairly lucky that the woman who owned his heart had happened to be the epitome of what the kingdom expected the Crown Prince of Westgarde to marry. But Aryn¡­ Aryn was not so lucky. Maybe somehow, some way, Mother had known it would be different for his brother. And besides, when it came to royalty, true love in a marriage was almost as rare as a unicorn. She had certainly known that from experience.


    As his fingers reached for his letter, his mouth went dry, his chest growing tighter. What if he forgot what her voice sounded like? It had been the better part of a year now since she had passed, and it had changed so much as she grew more and more ill. What if when he started to read the letter, he couldn¡¯t picture her face properly, couldn¡¯t see her beautiful blue eyes and her blonde hair and her radiant smile?


    But the longer he thought about it, the clearer the memories became. They had simply been shoved to the back of his mind, stowed away in a closet to collect dust. And as he remembered, that tightness in his chest grew, evolving into a deep ache.


    He grabbed the letter opener from the drawer and cut the seal.


    My beautiful son,


    There are a multitude of things I could say to you in this letter, and yet as I am thinking of them, I cannot seem to pen a singular thought. Instead I am reminded of memories, memories of you as a young boy. Even as a wee little one, you were always so strong, so sure in who you are. If you wished to do something, you would do it, no matter what or who stood in your way, and you have always possessed a heart made of the purest gold. I have watched as you have grown, evolved into the wonderful young man you have become, and I feel nothing but the most joyous pride when I lay mine eyes upon you.


    But among that pride, there is also worry, as mothers so often express. As you undertake the duties expected of you, I pray that you never lose sight of what is truly of importance, not just for Westgarde or for the Stewart family, but for you. Being King does not mean becoming a different person; you will always be Philip, my son, Aryn¡¯s brother, but you will not always be a prince, or a king. Someday you will leave this Earth, as we all must do, and suddenly being the King of Westgarde will no longer matter. What will matter is who you were, what is in your soul, what lies within your heart.


    So with that sentiment, I will only ask of you a few things. First and foremost, rule with your heart. Rule with compassion, and empathy, and love. Secondly, marry someone in whom you can truly find love with, someone who challenges you to be a better man, a better prince and, eventually, a better King. Lastly, look after your brother. You two may not always see eye to eye, but Aryn is your family, and whether you feel inclined to believe me or not, the two of you make an excellent team. Listen to him, and be certain that he listens to you when it matters. Embrace each other¡¯s differences, as it will strengthen your bond, and strengthen the family. Give him room to grow, space to breathe, time to heal, and no matter what happens, fight for him. Lend him your strength, and I know he will return it in kind a hundred fold.


    I love you so very much, my son. We will be together again soon enough.


    With all my heart,


    LydiaHelp support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The old ink smudged as a tear fell onto the parchment, and he quickly set the letter down to wipe his face. But that ache in his chest would not leave. Instead it grew stronger, until it began to overflow and force its way into his throat. His efforts proved futile as another barrage of tears tumbled down his flushed cheeks, and he had to brace himself on the desk as his legs faltered slightly.


    And I wasn¡¯t even there¡­


    ¡°Philip?¡±


    He whirled to spot a feminine silhouette standing in the threshold of the study doors, a candle holder grasped in one of her delicate hands as a tiny flame flickered across her heavenly face. Her expression shifted from confusion to concern as she entered the chamber and quickly approached, setting the candle down on one of the small side tables. Seeing as it was rather late, her hair was unbound, cascading down her shoulders in a dark brown waterfall. A comfortable yet elegant robe adorned her body, the silk belt tied haphazardly around her waist. Her beautiful hazel eyes darted between him and the desk, clocking the open letter, before her gaze settled on him attentively.


    ¡°My love, it is late. You should come to bed.¡±


    Her voice, which usually sported such feistiness, was quiet and tender as her slender fingers reached up to envelop his tear-stained cheek. Unable to find his own voice, he instead leaned into her hand, craving the warmth and stability that always seemed to come with her embrace.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡±


    A sharp sigh escaped through his nose as he closed his eyes for a moment, and he thought Dahlia might press further, but her other hand came to hold his face. As his lashes fluttered open, their gazes met, and once again he felt it. That irresistible pull to her, the otherworldly magic she possessed within her that made him fall to his knees, that made him do anything for her, tell her everything.


    But as he parted his lips to speak, her mouth connected with his. The way she kissed him was so soft, so heart-wrenchingly tender, that it spurred another unwelcomed sting of tears in his eyes. After only a moment, she slowly pulled away to look at him, noting the shimmer within his brown irises in the dim candlelight.


    ¡°We do not have to talk¨C¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t there, Dahlia,¡± he stated in a near whisper, his voice threatening to break at the memory of it.


    Her brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°When she died¡­¡±


    She remained quiet, not giving her opinion, just providing silent support as her thumb brushed along his cheekbone. His chest hurt as he drew in a deep, shaky breath.


    ¡°Father and I, we were¡­ we were touring several of the large camps, acquainting me with the leaders he had appointed, talking strategy, helping to rally the soldiers. That was when a messenger arrived at one of the camps, an absolute mess, had ridden overnight. I never wanted to leave the castle with Mother so sick but Father insisted it was important to do. We nearly killed our horses trying to get back, but when we got to her chambers¡­ she was still warm. Aryn was there, refusing to let go of her hand. And I just remember the hate I saw in his eyes as he looked at me, at us. It was¡­¡±


    ¡°It was what?¡± she questioned quietly, her tone encouraging but not pressuring.


    ¡°It was the worst day of my life. The whole situation was completely and utterly fucked, disgraceful. I remember Aryn started screaming at Father, and then he said something that just broke him. I¡¯ve never seen murder in my brother¡¯s eyes except for in that moment. He launched himself at our father, fists flying¡­ He couldn¡¯t show his face in court for a few days. I had to pry Aryn off of him.


    ¡°Father was trying to stop him, but that was the first and only time I¡¯ve also seen my father hold back with him. He never hit him back, just tried to restrain him. And I also earned a busted lip trying to pin him down. But we both knew at that moment that the only person in the room who was in the right was Aryn¡­ And we¡¯ve mended our relationship, but I don¡¯t know if he will ever forgive me for not being there. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever forgive myself¡­¡±


    He felt those tears threatening him again as that horrid memory came flooding back, slamming relentlessly into the forefront of his mind. But Dahlia¡¯s cool fingertips brushed the messy hair from his forehead, capturing his attention.


    ¡°You cannot blame yourself¡­ the King made you come¨C¡±


    ¡°If I really wanted to, I could have refused. But all I had been worried about was not upsetting my father, not jeopardizing my claim to the throne in any way. And because of that I was unable to say goodbye to my mother and shattered my relationship with my brother. How could I not blame myself, Dahlia?¡±


    ¡°You may blame yourself, but I know your mother never blamed you, Philip. Please find solace in that,¡± she begged, pulling his face closer to her.


    Instinctually, he pressed his forehead against hers, letting her embrace him, comfort him. She most certainly was right, but even so, he could still not find it within him to forgive himself yet. But for now, her support was enough.


    ¡°There was an incident tonight,¡± he finally mentioned.


    ¡°With who?¡±


    ¡°Aryn, and my father. I am speaking to him in the morning about the matter.¡±


    Her expression shifted, a more reserved, nervous air about her usually relaxed presence.


    ¡°Just¡­ keep a level head. Do not let him rile you up. That¡¯s how men like him win. My father is the same way.¡±


    He sighed heavily. ¡°Why does it seem like all men who possess power turn into righteous cunts?¡±


    Her cheeks flushed at the harshness of his words. ¡°Well, you¡¯re not a righteous cunt.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t fight the smile that quickly adorned his face as he held her cheeks in his hands. ¡°That is because of you, darling.¡±


    She giggled softly before pressing their lips together, sending a wave of warmth through him. He found his arms slinking their way around her waist and pulling her closer, and as the kiss deepened, he felt the supple mound of her breasts press tightly against his chest.


    ¡°Come to bed,¡± she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.


    ¡°You certainly don¡¯t have to ask me a third time,¡± he said cheekily, smiling slightly against her lips.


    They quickly blew out the candles in the study and sequestered themselves in their sleeping chambers. The tight ache in his chest slowly disappeared as he lost himself in her, allowing all of the thoughts that plagued him to melt away into the night as he made love to her.


    As he lied on his back, fingers idly playing with Dahlia¡¯s hair, Mother¡¯s letter flashed in his mind. As of now, he was fulfilling two of her wishes for him. At least he hoped he was ruling the way she wanted him to. But tomorrow, he would honor her last request. He was done standing back and letting anyone walk over Aryn, even if that included the King of Westgarde.


    He just prayed no one would get caught in between them when he finally spoke his mind.

 Twenty-Seven

    Muffled voices could be heard behind the towering doors into the throne room as he stood at the entrance, his palms growing sweaty with nerves. He knew Father was holding an audience today with some of the important figureheads that ruled over the border towns in Westgarde, the ones that had been carrying whispers of rebellion back to the capital¡¯s ears. But he was not moronic enough to walk in and disrupt that meeting. Instead he waited, constantly passing by the throne room doors to see if the conversation was still in full swing. It was nearing an hour before he heard his father¡¯s resonant, cruel voice call for the conclusion to their meeting.


    With one last steadying breath, he opened the doors.


    Most of the faces within the chamber were foreign to him, and rather old. But two caught him by surprise: Oliver and Lord Farrington. The former caught his gaze with an equal look of confusion as to why the Crown Prince had entered the throne room unannounced.


    The casual murmur of concluding conversations quickly died as all heads now turned in his direction and proceeded to bow, his boots echoing off of the polished marble as he approached. He stopped only a few paces from the grand dias which housed his father¡¯s throne. It was not a typical piece of royal furniture, as Aleksander had had it hewn from stone instead of carpented from wood. Stone was stronger, less movable. As he looked up at his father, a memory flashed in his mind, a time when he himself had sat in that throne that was far too large for him, as Aleksander placed him upon it and informed him of who he was to become.


    But I will never be like you. Not anymore.


    He spotted the faintest twitch of his father¡¯s jaw, an almost imperceivable sign of his irritation, as he sat up slightly in his throne.


    ¡°Philip. To what do we owe this¡­ unexpected visit? We were in the middle of a rather important meeting.¡±


    He clasped his hands behind his back to conceal their trembling. It felt as if his crown was digging into his skull, trying to warn him of what he might lose.


    ¡°Yes well it seemed to me like this meeting was over,¡± he stated curtly. ¡°Now if the rest of you do not mind, I wish to have a word with my father. Alone.¡±


    His eyes remained locked on the King as he raised his voice slightly to address the rest of the men in the room, a sense of authority overtaking his tone as naturally as breathing. A couple of the noblemen hesitated, but Oliver was the first to move, giving him a quick, respectful bow before striding towards the door. His father, however, was the last. His rich brown eyes shifted towards the lord challengingly, and with a cold, forced bow, he finally made his way out of the throne room.


    Something about it made the hairs on his neck stand on end.


    But now his attention was undividedly on the large, imposing man who sat before him, a quiet anger brimming in his cold eyes as he waited for his son to speak.


    ¡°What exactly happened yesterday evening?¡± he prompted.


    His father¡¯s eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, but it was enough to cause his heart to beat heavily against his chest.


    ¡°There were a great many things that happened yesterday evening, I am a busy man. You will have to be more specific¨C¡±


    ¡°Did you strike Aryn?¡±


    He had anticipated a number of situations, but Aleksander sitting back further into his throne was not one of them. The look in his eyes, however, he had expected.


    ¡°Why do you care?¡±


    The question slapped him in the face, the insinuation behind it causing his skin to burn. His chest heaved as he attempted to keep his composure.


    ¡°Because he is my brother. My family.¡±


    ¡°If you really must know, it is because your little brother disrespected me. And I do not take disrespect lightly¨C¡±


    ¡°Your son¡­¡±


    Aleksander¡¯s face suddenly darkened, and it felt as if all of the light and warmth in the throne room was extinguished. Suddenly he was a boy again, about to get the belt because of a miniscule mistake that had been made, because his mouth had grown slightly too smart.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    He then remembered the color-drained look on Percy¡¯s face last night. The nightmares he¡¯d had about Aryn. Mother¡¯s letter¡­


    ¡°Aryn is your son. And he is intelligent, and kind, and talented, and honestly if he were given the chance, he¡¯d be one Hell of a diplomat. Just because he is not exactly like you does not mean he is some sort of disgrace.¡±


    Aleksander now leaned forward in his throne, his fingers enveloping the arms of the grand chair in an ironclad grip.


    ¡°Did I truly raise you to be so daft? Your brother is not a disgrace because we have differences. He is a disgrace to this family because he does everything in his power to sabotage us. He goes out of his way to tarnish the Stewart name, to attempt to dismantle everything I have built for us,¡± he growled.


    ¡°Yes well maybe that is how you see it,¡± he spat.


    ¡°Oh for Heaven¡¯s sake, and how do you see it, Philip? Please do enlighten me, because I have grown dangerously tired of the games you and your brother are now playing.¡±


    ¡°We are not playing any games!¡± he shouted. ¡°That is the point, Father! You have always been too proud to admit your faults, too proud to put the blame on yourself. All Aryn wants is to care for our people. There are no games he is playing, no tricks he is trying to pull. But you are threatened by him¨C¡±


    Aleksander laughed. A harsh, cruel laugh that made him feel infinitesimally small.


    ¡°Threatened?¡±


    ¡°Yes, threatened. You feel threatened by Aryn because you know that if our people actually got to see him, to know him, they would want him on the throne. Not you, not me. Him.¡±


    The King scoffed. ¡°Please. Your brother would destroy this kingdom. He is weak. And no one who possesses such turmoil within their mind, such instability should be in any position of power, and you know it. Do not try to deny the fact that your brother is not sound.¡±


    Suddenly he saw red. His pulse throbbed within his ears, drowning out everything else around him.


    ¡°He has been abused by you his entire life! He lost his mother. He watched her die, and he was alone. I needn¡¯t remind you how that disgraceful day unfolded. And now he has almost been murdered. He has not had so much as a single second to breathe, let alone work through everything he has been through. And just because you cannot understand how he sees the world, it does not mean he is mad. My brother is one of the wisest people I have ever met¨C¡±


    ¡°If he were so wise, he would learn not to disrespect his King.¡±


    ¡°In my opinion, Father, kings should earn respect. And you have done nothing to earn Aryn¡¯s,¡± he declared.


    He would not back down, would not let up. And as the words were leaving his mouth, unfiltered and uncensored, the truth of them settled within his soul. He had needed to say these things aloud, to solidify them for himself.


    ¡°Did you come here just to badger me or is there a point to this conversation?¡± Aleksander demanded impatiently.


    There it was. He had won. Father could find nothing more to say, to defend himself with.


    ¡°The point is that you will never strike Aryn again. You will never lay your hands on my brother, your son, again.¡±


    That cruel laugh boiled up out of his broad chest again.


    ¡°You cannot make demands of me, boy. I am your King.¡±


    ¡°You are King as long as you live, yes. But what of our legacy? Do you not care for that?¡±


    Aleksander froze, tilting his head slightly as his eyes narrowed at him.


    ¡°What are you playing at?¡±


    His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, his palms sweating. A high-pitched ringing slowly crescendoed in his ears as he stared his father down.


    ¡°If you harm Aryn again, I will relinquish my claim to the throne. And that means he would be next in line.¡±


    Aleksander suddenly shot to his feet. ¡°Do not make such ridiculous idle threats to me, boy.¡±


    ¡°They are not idle, and I fully intend to honor them if you ignore what I have asked of you.¡±


    ¡°I could strip you of your birthright right now,¡± he threatened, his voice full of pure, icy rage as he glared down at him from the dias.


    ¡°But you won¡¯t.¡±


    He knew his father was too prideful to do such a thing. To renounce Philip¡¯s inheritance would be admitting disgrace, inadequacy, weakness. And God knew how much Aleksander despised any and all of those things.


    So as they stared at each other, an unstoppable force finally met an immovable object.


    Only this time Philip was immovable.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Get out of my sight,¡± the King grumbled venomously, refusing to sit back down.


    With a bow that was a touch too smug, he turned on his heel and strode out of the throne room, finally able to breathe again.


    But now he really needed to get out of the castle.


    There was one place he knew he was at least expected to be at today, and while the idea of having a long conversation with Percy was not necessarily settling his nerves, the anticipation he felt at the prospect was far more positive in nature than what had just occurred. Although the young man would not be expecting his arrival until this evening, and the sun was barely cresting into the afternoon. But at this point there was really nothing they needed time to hide from him anymore.


    As he took a few steps down the hall, something pricked at the back of his mind, stirring his intuition. Pausing for a moment, he turned and headed towards the east wing, to his mother¡¯s old study, and shuffled through the letters in her desk, pulling one specific piece of parchment out of the drawer and tucking it inside his coat.


    After milling about the main doors to the castle for near on a minute, he finally decided to depart from his enormous home.


    The trek to Percy¡¯s estate seemed much shorter than the last time, but considering the circumstances under which his last visit had happened, it was quite easy to figure out why. He could not help it as sharp memories flashed in his mind, the horribly bloody visage of Percy, his brother sitting on the stairs in the estate, his blue eyes devoid of life.


    Suddenly the double doors to the house stood in front of him, and his stomach tightened nervously. He and Percy had never really had a¡­ normal conversation, or at least a mundane one. They had only ever discussed politics, or even more unsavory topics and situations. Maybe he should have brought something with him, a gesture or a gift.


    Sighing heavily, he rapped his knuckles on the wood. A tense silence settled over him as he waited, each second ticking by slowly.


    A bolt unlatched before the door opened to reveal Percy. His curly brown hair was somewhat disheveled, and his green eyes looked tired, as if he had been straining them. He was dressed in comfortable breeches and a simple sweater to keep the cold off, but what Philip noticed the most was his hands. They were blotched with various colors of paint. A warm if not slightly apprehensive smile spread across the commoner¡¯s tanned face.


    ¡°Philip. Please, come in,¡± he invited politely, stepping back as he opened the door wider. ¡°I apologize, I thought you would be arriving a bit later. I would have cleaned up.¡±


    The short heels of his boots clicked densely on the wooden floor as he stepped through the threshold, beginning to remove his coat.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t stress on my account. I should be apologizing for coming over before what we agreed upon. I simply could not get myself to stay in the castle,¡± he explained.


    Before he could protest, Percy snatched his coat from him and carefully hung it from one of the hooks by the front door. It strangely struck up a chord of guilt in his chest.


    ¡°I completely understand. Would you like something to drink?¡± he offered cordially.


    He could sense the unspoken tension in the air. It wasn¡¯t negative, per se, but that sense of apprehension still lingered. Maybe cracking open a bottle of wine was not such a bad idea.


    A friendly smile spread across his face. ¡°Only if you¡¯ll drink with me.¡±


    The expression Percy sported softened to a more genuine, boyish countenance as he turned and sauntered into the dining room, heading for the wine rack. Philip wandered into the sitting room and gingerly placed himself in one of the plush armchairs, thankful for the warm embrace of the fire that blazed in the large hearth. After a moment, Percy made his way over, two glasses and a bottle of wine in hand. He passed Philip one and carefully poured the dark red liquid into his cup before placing himself in the other chair and serving himself a glass.


    A dry lump formed in his throat as he took a hearty sip.


    ¡°How is he doing?¡± he asked hesitantly, swirling the wine in his cup.


    The expression on Percy¡¯s face shifted slightly as he blinked, his emerald eyes now staring intently at his glass.


    ¡°He¡¯s okay, just been sleeping a lot. When I was helping him get cleaned up last night, he just¡­ the world got to be too much for him. And I think that has completely drained the energy from him. So I¡¯ve just been letting him rest, making sure he eats something.¡±


    He could see the sadness Percy was trying to keep beneath the surface, the heartache he thought no one else could understand. But the first few months after Mother¡¯s death came rushing back to him: the dreadfully long nights of staying in Aryn¡¯s room, watching over him to keep that shadow that haunted him at bay, making sure he didn¡¯t sneak out and do something he would regret.


    ¡°Thank you for taking care of him.¡±


    Green eyes suddenly locked with his, and something he could not quite discern stirred the air surrounding them.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    He anxiously ran his fingertip around the rim of his wine glass, crossing his legs.


    ¡°As you know by now, my brother is¡­ well, he is a very vulnerable person. My father firmly believes he is mad, but I think you and I both know that it is different than that. Before our mother fell ill, Aryn was a force to be reckoned with. He is astoundingly intelligent, incredibly intuitive, and he simply has such a way with people. The common folk, specifically. It was the same for our mother.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to convince me,¡± Percy pointed out, his voice soft but amused. ¡°I am well aware of just how amazing your brother is.¡±


    He sighed sharply through his nose, a pensive smile briefly twitching at the corner of his lips. ¡°Then you know that this¡­ state he has been in since our mother passed is not truly who he is. That it may yet be mended, healed. And I also know that the catalyst for his healing is sitting in front of me. None of us have been able to reach him, to even get him to speak truthfully about what he has been going through. Except for you.¡±


    ¡°Philip, I¡¯m not anyone¡¯s savior¨C¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. But you are the person who loves my brother, are you not?¡± he pushed, sitting up in the armchair.


    Something sparked in his emerald irises, a sense of unwavering certainty.


    ¡°With everything I have.¡±


    He suddenly rose to his feet and strode over to where his coat hung from the wall, retrieving the sealed letter. His boots clicked across the floor with purpose as he came to stand in front of Percy.


    ¡°Then I suppose my mother has some things to say to you.¡±


    Percy¡¯s brow furrowed as he glanced up at him in disbelief, his large, calloused hand hesitantly reaching for the letter. He plucked it from Philip¡¯s grasp reluctantly, as if he were unsure if the note was truly meant for him, before opening it.


    He sat himself back down in the chair and drained his cup as the commoner read the letter, a blatant intensity on his tan face. But the more he read, the soften his expression grew, until he could see the shimmer of tears threatening in his eyes. Without a word, Percy carefully set the letter down on the table in front of them, staring after it.


    ¡°I suppose there is no natural way to ask this, so I will simply just ask. No matter what happens, will you always love Aryn?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Even if one day he has to marry, perform his royal duty, bear children with a woman? Do you love him enough to step away if you must?¡±


    ¡°If that is what he wanted, then yes.¡±


    A tense silence settled over them as their gazes bore into each other. But he himself seemed far more uneasy than Percy did. The commoner was calm, resolute, as if he had already thought through the questions he was being asked a long time ago.


    ¡°Would you¨C¡±


    Percy leaned forward and placed his elbows on the tops of his knees. ¡°Philip, I would die for your brother. And as much as I hate your father, I would do everything in my power to protect your family, to protect you, and Dahlia, and Aryn, and Oliver. And if it came to it, no matter what, I would defend Aryn¡¯s honor. If it means my life, I would gladly give it to protect him, to make sure no one could weaponize our relationship to ruin him. I will never play games with you, Philip. I know that is a hard concept for your kind to understand, but I give you my word that it¡¯s true.¡±


    All of the other questions, the rest of the interrogation that had nervously manifested in his mind, disappeared with the late winter wind outside as Percy said his piece and drained the rest of his glass. But beneath the tension of the conversation, he felt a strange sense of peace settle in his chest, and the words that came out of his mouth were not calculated or overthought, just simply real, truthful.


    ¡°My family is your family now, Percy. I want you to know that.¡±


    A warm smile slowly spread across the commoner¡¯s face as he proceeded to sit back in his armchair, the air in the room becoming lighter, freer.


    ¡°Thank you, Philip.¡±


    With another pour of wine, they sat and talked for what seemed to be hours, finally getting to truly know one another. As the minutes flew by, his chest began to feel warmer and warmer, his shoulders lighter and lighter as if the weight he hadn¡¯t realized he had been carrying was slowly dissipating. Their tongues grew looser as the bottle of wine was drained and a second was opened, polite conversation progressing to wild stories, brutally honest opinions, and frequent hearty laughter.


    ¡°You should come to the estate when spring arrives,¡± he suggested, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the fire still blazing in the hearth.


    Percy tilted his head curiously, loose curls bouncing as he did. ¡°Are we not already at the estate?¡±


    Philip snorted, placing his glass down for a moment as he smirked. ¡°No, my family¡¯s country estate. My father procured it for my mother as a gift, for when I was born. Apparently my birth had been a rather awful endeavor. I suppose he felt guilty, so he bought Mother this giant estate to go on holiday to and do whatever she wanted with it. The land is absolutely beautiful, and quite vast. I¡¯ll be bringing Dahlia and Oliver along. You and Aryn should join us. It would be a wonderful time. And I think escaping somewhere for a little while would do all of us some good, especially Aryn.¡±


    Percy took an indulgent drink of his wine.


    ¡°But won¡¯t there have to be guards or something while we¡¯re there?¡±


    Philip quickly caught on to the hidden meaning of his question.


    ¡°Well yes, but they only keep guard outside of the estate, not in it. Unless you two were planning on being indecent with each other in the garden in broad daylight,¡± he teased.


    The commoner¡¯s face flushed a deep ruddy color. ¡°Wow. I¡¯m offended you would even think that,¡± he exclaimed sarcastically.


    He tossed back the remaining liquid in his cup. ¡°So wait, have you and my brother¨C¡±


    ¡°Have we what?¡±


    They both turned to spot Aryn standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a loose-fitting sweater and pants. His ashen hair was a mess, sticking out in all sorts of directions as he wrapped his slender arms around himself sleepily. Dull blue eyes took both of them in, but naturally his gaze lingered far longer on Percy.


    The commoner immediately rose from his chair, abandoning the conversation, and met Aryn at the bottom of the stairs, instinctively smoothing out his blonde hair. He watched as his brother¡¯s mood quickly shifted, a sense of comfort and security settling over him the moment Percy made contact.


    ¡°We were just talking about going to your family¡¯s estate for a bit this spring,¡± he mentioned gently, placing a kiss to the top of Aryn¡¯s head.


    ¡°The estate?¡± He spotted the subtle look of apprehension that spread across his little brother¡¯s face. ¡°We haven¡¯t visited it in a long time.¡±


    ¡°I think it would be good for all of us,¡± he chimed in from across the room. ¡°We all deserve a break I think, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    A soft smile twitched at the edge of Percy¡¯s mouth as he tucked a piece of hair behind Aryn¡¯s ear. ¡°We could get away from all of the bullshit for a little while. It¡¯s only going to be us, Dahlia, and Oliver. No hiding, no pretending. We can just be ourselves for a bit.¡±


    He watched as Aryn¡¯s face lit up with cautious optimism. ¡°Yeah¡­ okay. That sounds nice.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Percy¡¯s smile grew before he placed a careful kiss to Aryn¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°Well, I should be heading back before Dahlia accuses me of abandoning her,¡± he prompted playfully, rising from the armchair.


    He could sense the mood shifting. It was clear that his brother had been out cold all day, and the two of them had not truly had a moment for themselves yet. As much as it still felt slightly uncomfortable for him, he refused to get in the way of their relationship, of Aryn¡¯s joy. But after getting to know Percy, that discomfort could more accurately be described now as uncertainty. He was more so unsure as to how to navigate the situation gracefully, trying to tread that fine line between supporting and overstepping. But he had to remind himself that this was uncharted territory for all of them, and they were all doing the best they could.


    Noting the subtle shift in Aryn¡¯s expression, he could tell that his little brother was decoding the thoughts running through his head. It had always been that way, ever since they were children. He had never been able to lie to Aryn; it was as if he could read minds, or at least his mind. But nowadays, it appeared that it was becoming more of a blessing than a curse, as they quickly came to a silent understanding.


    Percy turned towards him, tan face flushed as he realized they still had an audience, and made his way to the front door, grabbing Philip¡¯s coat for him.


    ¡°Thank you for coming over, Philip. We¡¯ll have to do this again soon,¡± he declared with a warm, genuine smile.


    He returned the expression and nodded, accepting his coat. ¡°I would love that. Good evening, Percy.¡±


    The commoner clasped him on the arm before opening the front door for him, and as he exited the estate, his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

 Twenty-Eight

    For once, his sleep was quiet, uneventful. Only the base comfort of darkness, of nothingness permeated through his unconscious mind. Including last night, he had been asleep for almost an entire day, minus the few minutes he had spent eating the soup Percy had brought to him in bed. But the familiar sound of animated conversation had roused him, and so he¡¯d crawled out of bed to lay his sights upon Philip and Percy in the sitting room.


    The family estate. Mother¡¯s estate¡­ he hadn¡¯t thought about that place in a long time. But distant, fond memories came flooding into his mind, memories of a time when he was far younger, far happier. Maybe he could find that side of himself there again, with Percy.


    His arms remained wrapped around himself as he watched his brother depart, his bare feet glued to the floor by the stairs. A blast of chilled wind sent his icy hair scattering in all directions, and he withdrew into himself more in a futile attempt to stave off the cold. His senses were still on edge, his nerves frayed and raw from the recent mental onslaught he had been forced to endure.


    Closing the door, Percy turned and stepped over to him, gently grasping his hands and unwinding his self-imposed embrace.


    ¡°Spring couldn¡¯t come any sooner, in my opinion,¡± he murmured softly, a boyish smile spreading across his tan face.


    A tiny spark of happiness flared within his chest, but it never caught flame as he noticed Percy¡¯s eyes dart briefly towards his cheekbone. The bruise looked even worse than it had yesterday, the blotchy red and purple stain growing as the swelling spread.


    That modicum of joy quickly died.


    ¡°Is there anything in particular you¡¯d like to do for the rest of the evening?¡± Percy inquired, brushing his thumb across the back of his hand. ¡°I was working on a painting. You could sit with me and read or something, if you want.¡±


    The cracks in his heart grew wider and wider as he went on, a desperate optimism in his brilliant green eyes. He knew Percy was trying, so goddamn hard, but the truth was he didn¡¯t want to read. He just wanted to fade away, back into that darkness, that nothingness.


    ¡°I¡¯m still pretty tired,¡± he muttered numbly, averting his eyes from Percy¡¯s newly fallen expression.


    But as quickly as his features had saddened, they reset themselves back into that unwavering positivity. ¡°Come here. I want to show you something.¡±


    He let Percy lead him into the sitting room, and as he rounded the stairs, his heart leapt into his throat. Sitting in the corner of the more vacant part of the room, close to the window, was an unmistakable shape hidden beneath a large sheet. A comfortable stool was placed next to it, silently begging to be occupied.


    But a sense of dread quickly settled over him, and his feet were unable to move any farther as he shook his head.


    ¡°Why did you get this?¡±


    The question came out far harsher than he had intended, but it still didn¡¯t dissuade Percy from approaching the shape and carefully removing the cover. A gorgeous harp made of off-white wood stood tall before them, elegant and intimidating.


    ¡°I told you I wanted to get you a harp for the house so you could start playing again. Come on, try it out,¡± he encouraged, his fingertips gliding over the glossy wood in admiration.


    But that dread rooted deeper in his chest. ¡°Percy I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    The former smith¡¯s face softened, and he pulled away from the instrument and came to stand in front of Aryn, brushing a stray piece of hair from his forehead.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to play it. Just come sit by it.¡±


    His breath felt immensely shallow, but as Percy squeezed his hand, his feet freed themselves from the floor. Slowly, skeptically, he stepped towards the harp, lowering himself onto the stool. Memories rushed back to him uninvited, of him sitting in his mother¡¯s study plucking away at the strings until his fingers were raw and bleeding. Music had been his only solace, his only escape for all of his life. So why now did it feel like the harp was taunting him, confronting him?


    But that was just it. Music was not just made for escapism. It was art, and art was supposed to make you feel. Maybe instead of using it to run away, now it was time to use it to run towards, to confront and push past the things that haunted him, the thoughts and memories that plagued him. To move forward.


    His hands hesitantly approached the strings, unable to fight the invisible pull of the harp and the potential it promised, like a moth fluttering towards a flame. The tips of his fingers paused over the farthest string for what seemed like a millenia. And then he glided them back towards himself, slowly and evenly. The vibrations reverberated through his hand, his arm, into his heart, and something stirred from its deep, deep slumber within the recesses of his mind. An instinct, a melody. Part of his soul.


    With more certainty, his fingers began to pluck at the strings, eliciting a soft, low series of notes. As he secured the melody into place, the words he had written along with it so long ago slowly solidified within his thoughts, coming back to him from a long-forgotten place. His voice was quiet, almost fragile, but above the more grounded tune that resonated from the harp, it filled the space, captivating it.


    The song flowed through him now, and he was no longer Aryn, but an instrument himself, a conduit for the message, for the story it was weaving. Everything around him seemed to melt away, fading into insignificance, as his soul bared itself through the music. The melody ebbed and flowed, rose and fell, following his voice along the journey.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Finally his fingertips slowed, the music growing quieter, simpler, until the final part of the song was his voice and his voice alone. It resonated throughout the space, pure and haunting and beautiful, until suddenly he stopped. The song was finished, the story concluded.


    He slowly withdrew his hands from the harp and placed them on his thighs, unaware of their trembling until now. His chest heaved with a steadying breath before his deep blue eyes finally looked to Percy.


    His thick, dark lashes glistened with tears as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed and face flushed. His emerald irises shimmered with astounded adoration, his lips parted slightly in disbelief as he simply stared at Aryn.


    He felt a sweat start to break out on his palms as he shifted anxiously in the stool. ¡°What?¡±


    Percy blew out a sharp breath, a fascinated smile briefly twitching at the edges of his mouth.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you could sing too.¡±


    An intense heat rose on his cheeks as what had just occurred finally processed in his brain. He had been so lost in the moment, he had forgotten Percy was even there until he had stopped playing.


    ¡°Get it from my mum¡­¡± he murmured shyly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his borrowed sweater.


    Suddenly Percy moved off the wall and came to rest on his knees in front of him. His strong hands contacted his forearms and slid their way down to Aryn¡¯s smaller hands, gripping them tightly. His chest ached as he spotted a tear slip from the outer corner of Percy¡¯s eye.


    ¡°Aryn I¡­ you are the most beautiful, fascinating, heavenly creature I have ever laid eyes upon. I look at you, and all I can think is, ¡®what did I do to deserve you¡¯? I am in every way, shape, and form, unworthy of your love¨C¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he cut in sharply, shaking his head. ¡°Percy, you are the most worthy person. Of everything. You deserve the world, and more. I just pray my love supplies you with even a modicum of all the wonderful things you are undeniably entitled to. And I am¨C¡± his voice was arrested by the sudden emotion that came flooding over him¨C ¡°I am so sorry for how lacking that love seems right now.¡±


    Percy¡¯s hand came to cradle his cheek, a newfound intensity in his emerald eyes.


    ¡°It does not seem lacking, Aryn. Not in the slightest. I know you are trying, and I am so immensely grateful for that. The state of our intimacy does not dictate our love. Even if I were unable to ever touch you again, I would still love you just as fiercely. Do you understand me?¡±


    The fire in his voice stirred something deep within him, and he found himself sitting forward more on the stool, their faces growing closer as their heights now finally matched in their current positions.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he whispered, his hand making its way to Percy¡¯s chest.


    He saw his green eyes flick across Aryn¡¯s face, intense longing burning within them as his fingers slid from the prince¡¯s flushed cheek into his hair. His body tensed for a moment, the uninvited memory of cruel, deadly fingers yanking his head back suddenly flashing in his mind, but he kept his eyes locked on Percy, and quickly the tension melted away. Slowly, cautiously, Percy leaned forward and barely brushed his lips across his own, their breaths mingling as Aryn found his hand sliding up his broad chest to the back of his neck.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Percy whispered against the corner of his mouth.


    A sharp breath escaped his lips before he dragged them delicately across Percy¡¯s jaw, his fingers now coming to tangle in his curly brown hair. He felt a strong arm slither around his waist, and his legs slid apart to either side as Percy pulled his body closer. The warmth radiating from him sent a wave of comfort through Aryn, and he found himself melting further into Percy¡¯s embrace before their lips finally met.


    That piece of his soul that had been stolen from him found its way home again as he settled into Percy¡¯s arms. Their lips moved in tandem, slowly, tenderly. But after a moment, it wasn¡¯t enough. The apprehension that had previously infested his heart had fled, and a familiar, intense need had now taken its place. He gave himself more to the kiss, gathering the courage to run his tongue along Percy¡¯s lip, and felt him smile against his mouth.


    ¡°There he is,¡± Percy murmured cheekily, his grip on Aryn¡¯s waist tightening as he caught the prince¡¯s bottom lip briefly between his teeth.


    His act did not illicit provocation, only contentment. It felt as if they were rediscovering each other, putting the scattered pieces of their intimacy back together, and it made his heart sing. His hands made their way beneath Percy¡¯s sweater and took in the ridges and valleys of his muscled body while his tongue gently explored his mouth, his skin prickling as he felt the tips of Percy¡¯s fingers glide up his back from his waist.


    Life flowed back into him as Percy dragged his mouth along his jaw, then to his neck, tracing it with slow, tender kisses.


    ¡°Beautiful,¡± he whispered against Aryn¡¯s skin.


    Another kiss was placed beneath his ear. ¡°Wonderful.¡±


    Then another under his jaw.


    ¡°Gorgeous,¡± another kiss to the corner of his mouth. ¡°Extraordinary.¡±


    A shy smile turned into an involuntary beaming grin as Percy relentlessly continued to pepper kisses along his skin, accompanied by words of affirmation, before finally their lips touched again briefly.


    Green eyes locked with his as Percy pulled away slightly to look upon Aryn¡¯s blushing face, tucking a piece of ashen hair behind his ear.


    ¡°God how I missed that smile of yours,¡± he said breathily, unable to resist placing another quick kiss to his mouth. ¡°Promise me I¡¯ll get to see more of it now, yeah?¡±


    His grin settled into a softer closed-lip smile as he stared into Percy¡¯s brilliant emerald irises. ¡°Only if this is a daily occurrence,¡± he demanded playfully.


    Percy chuckled through his nose, an amused smile lighting up his tanned face.


    ¡°Deal. Absolutely.¡±


    It was his turn to initiate as he pressed his lips to Percy¡¯s, letting the kiss linger as his hands invited themselves to feel the well-defined muscles along his shoulders.


    ¡°Do you¡­mind if I play some more?¡± he murmured shyly.


    Percy pulled away and gently brushed his thumb across Aryn¡¯s cheek. ¡°My love, you could play that harp all night long, and I will sit here and listen to every second of it. Please do.¡±


    A heat rose on his fair cheeks as he reluctantly withdrew himself from Percy. Suddenly, the former smith stood from the floor and strode over to one of the armchairs, hoisting it up and relocating it next to the instrument. He then procured two new wine glasses from the dining room and poured the contents of the already-opened bottle into them, placing one on the floor next to Aryn¡¯s stool before pointedly plopping himself down in the armchair and crossing his legs comfortably.


    He couldn¡¯t fight the giggle that wormed its way out of his chest before turning back towards the harp. As he resituated himself in the stool, he felt at home. A wave of warmth washed over him as he lifted his hands once more to the instrument, letting his fingers brush over the strings in admiration.


    With a deep breath, and a renewed sense of hope, he began to pluck at the harp once more.

 Twenty-Nine

    Intense, raucous chatter filled the cramped space, giving the already hectic scene an even more chaotic feel. Some voices barked above the rest, accompanied by the alluring jingle of large bags of coin, but it all sounded distant to him as he methodically continued to wrap his knuckles. There were no ropes, no barricades; the wall of bodies surrounding him were the only indicator of a barrier, of the confinements in which his fight would take place.


    Sweat coated his bare arms and torso as dense, heavy drops slipped from the bottom of his chin and onto the dirt. The left side of his chest ached and throbbed from where a well-calculated blow had landed in his last match, but he had run this gauntlet enough times to know that it was only bruised muscle. So far tonight he had participated in two fights, as part of the unofficial tournament that seemed to be occurring. And by unofficial, that meant everyone was fighting until they couldn¡¯t anymore.


    The volume in the room suddenly increased as his final challenger emerged from the throng of bloodthirsty men, shouting and banging on his chest as he circled his side of the makeshift ring. He had to fight to keep his face unreadable, stoic.


    What a confident moron.


    The man was indeed quite larger than himself. A broad, thick mound of muscle hidden beneath a moderate layer of fat, it would prove difficult to wear him down with punches alone. But this particular flavor of fight was thankfully his expertise. It happened time and time again: everyone always jumped at the chance to knock a rich brat on their arse, particularly if that rich brat had been making complete fools out of your comrades all night. They always picked the biggest man, the one with the most brute force.


    To be fair, it wasn¡¯t a horrible strategy. One lucky shot, one quick instant of his concentration slipping, and he knew he would be out cold.


    But that¡¯s what made it fun.


    With further goading from his opponent, the crowd was insatiable now, demanding the start of the fight, demanding violence. Finally another man wormed his way out of the throng of people, the designated watchman of the brawl. Unhurriedly, he finished wrapping his knuckles, knowing that his unwillingness to be rushed would irritate his opponent. Failure always started with impatience.


    He came to stand next to the mediator, making sure his posture appeared far too relaxed for the situation. Meanwhile, his opponent couldn¡¯t stand still. It looked as if he was foaming at the mouth, his eyes wild with bloodlust, and a hint of hatred.


    So eager to lose.


    The mediator spouted off the words he had already heard multiple times this evening. He kept his amber eyes locked on the man in front of him, allowing a glint of amusement to enter them. His lips pressed together tightly to avoid laughing as he spotted his opponent¡¯s jaw twitch with rage.


    Finally the mediator stepped back, his hand in the air, as the crowd hushed. The room quickly filled with palpable tension, everyone¡¯s faces brimming with feral anticipation as they waited for the violence to unfold.


    The hand dropped.


    His opponent roared and rushed forward, going for an immediate tackle. With ease, he side-stepped him and used his own momentum to shove him forward, sending him tumbling towards one side of the crowd. A group of men caught him, shouting and jeering, as they pushed him back into the ring. He noted the increasingly red appearance of the man¡¯s face and allowed a smirk to spread across his lips.


    Rage flashed in his opponent¡¯s eyes as he squared up with him, and he quickly spotted how they darted about his body, searching for an in. Unsurprisingly, his gaze landed on the large developing bruise beginning to encompass the left side of his chest. The man sent a heavy fist flying forward towards the spot, but Oliver twisted and instead connected his right hand to his opponent¡¯s jaw. His head snapped to the side as he stumbled, bloodied spit flying from his mouth.


    The crowd erupted with mixed emotions, all coming down to who they had bet on no doubt. But his opponent had not fallen yet. No, the man was far too large for a single blow to take him down. Instead, he came reeling back with another lob of his fist, aiming for Oliver¡¯s face this time. But his movement was too slow, too dazed, and the nobleman took the opportunity to duck out of the way and connect a fist to his exposed flank.


    The man grunted in pain and sidebent towards the blow, his square face contorted with furious misery. The crowd was screaming and yelling now, some excited and hopeful, others enraged at the money they were about to lose. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction before he reared back and sent his foot flying towards the man¡¯s lowered head.


    But at the back of the crowd, standing against the wall with his arms crossed, was his father.


    The sheer unexpectedness of it caused his foot to stall, just enough for his opponent to spot it and snatch his ankle. Suddenly his other foot flew out from under him as the man yanked forcefully, sending him to the ground. The breath left his lungs, and he barely had time to roll out of the way as a gigantic fist came barreling towards his face.


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    A plume of dust shot up from the floor as the man¡¯s knuckles connected with the ground instead. But now, adrenaline had taken over. His body moved faster than his brain as he shot back to his feet, using the momentum from the roll, and spun, driving with his heel towards his opponent¡¯s now lowered head.


    He felt it connect with a dense, painful shock of force that shot up his shin and into his leg. The crowd gasped in unison as his opponent¡¯s chin snapped to the opposite side, the impact so great that it sent him tumbling and spinning through the air for a moment before he landed on his shoulder limply. Tense silence filled the room for a long moment as everyone watched intently, waiting to see if he would move, if he would get back on his feet. But the man didn¡¯t so much as twitch.


    The crowd erupted in celebratory cheers and furious protest as, beneath the noise, the mediator announced his win. A small group of men emerged from the throng and dragged his opponent away hurriedly, no doubt carrying him towards the makeshift medical area that had been set up. Without theatrics, he simply pushed his way into the crowd and towards the edges of the room, towards his father.


    He was leaning against the wall, dressed in dark clothing and a well-tailored coat. It amused him how much his father didn¡¯t even try to hide his blatant distaste for the entire situation. Dripping sweat, and now with scrapes along his back from the rough dirt floor, Oliver stepped up to him expectantly, chest heaving as he set to catching his breath.


    ¡°Is there any particular reason you decided to almost sabotage my fight?¡± he prompted in dry jest.


    Lord Farrington did not appear amused in the slightest.


    ¡°Get dressed. We have things to discuss before I depart in the morning.¡±


    With a downward twitch of his brows, he retrieved his shirt from a nearby stool and redressed himself, donning his coat and shoes. His father turned and strode towards the exit, not bothering to see if Oliver was following. They made their way through the middle circle silently, a sense of unease taking root in his chest, before they popped into a rather seedy tavern. The establishment was extremely lively, as the workday had already ended, and Lord Farrington wasted no time before he slid into a booth at the back.


    Sorely, he took a seat as well, slouching in the booth as he crossed his arms expectantly.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to drag me away from the post-brawl festivities, you could at least buy me an ale and a shot of bran¨C¡±


    ¡°Oliver, for once in your life, shut your fucking mouth,¡± he snapped quietly. ¡°Do you think everything is a game?¡±


    ¡°No. But you do.¡±


    His father¡¯s face darkened impatiently. ¡°Our contacts are growing restless. Tell me you have something useful for me.¡±


    Don¡¯t give him anything important.


    ¡°Philip and the King are more at odds than they¡¯ve ever been. The Stewart family is unstable, their foundation is cracking at the seams. The people are horribly unhappy. They yearn for change, for someone other than Aleksander to make decisions for Westgarde.¡±


    ¡°We are indeed fortunate that not all of the King¡¯s spawn are detested by their own people,¡± Lord Farrington grumbled. ¡°And what do they think of your sister?¡±


    ¡°Oh the people love her, noble and baseborn alike. She will do well on the throne. Many are comparing her to the late Queen already.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. Although we still have Aleksander¡¯s other brat to contend with.¡±


    ¡°I assure you, I have Aryn well under control,¡± he declared quietly, attempting to hide the protectiveness that had snuck its way into his voice.


    ¡°You better have. After that recent debacle, we cannot afford another failure.¡±


    Suddenly the world froze around him.


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®another failure¡¯?¡± he interrogated, sitting up in his seat.


    ¡°Our associates agreed that it would be best to eliminate all potential threats to the plan. The young prince is a wildcard. Not to mention that commoner. I didn¡¯t think the people I had hired to enact the plan would be so lacking in foresight as to underestimate that blacksmith¡¯s unnecessary amount of strength. But that Lord Poulter was a blessing in disguise. I knew that if all else failed, we could easily pin the crime on him. But now we are back to square one, so your task is more important than ever.¡±


    A ringing slowly crescendoed in his ears as he stared down his father. Everything else around him blurred, and his vision grew tunneled as an icy rage began to run through his veins.


    ¡°You orchestrated it?¡±


    Lord Farrington shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing the newfound animosity radiating from him.


    ¡°Oliver, please don¡¯t be so naive. For this plan to work, there must be no loose ends. But unfortunately we do not have many options left. Our one saving grace is that the brat would rather die than be King. As long as Aleksander no longer sits on the throne, the situation can be mended.¡±


    That rage continued to seep through him, rooting into his bones. But he couldn¡¯t show it. The moment he betrayed his true feelings, his true intentions, his father would remove him from court, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to do anything when that day came.


    So he blinked his amber eyes and stared back at the man with an unnerving sense of apathy.


    ¡°Philip has invited the lot of us to the Stewart estate when spring breaks. I assure you I will have Aryn and Percy under our thumb by the time the holiday ends.¡±


    His father sat back into the booth and folded his hands together, his shoulders visibly relaxing. ¡°Good. Then we are done here.¡±


    With a heavy sigh, Lord Farrington made his way out of his seat and dusted off his coat.


    ¡°And do look after your sister. I expect things will be getting interesting rather soon.¡±


    His boots thudded densely against the warped wooden floor as he strode out of the dirty tavern without another word, not looking back.