FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
S p o n t a n e i t y
Chapter Two
At First Glance
A few days riding my ass!
… speaking of which, it happens to be very sore at the moment. Before rumors start to spread, however, I would like to clarify that my bottom’s current state of ache is due entirely to a week and a half of riding a horse all day and most of the night. Can we say pain? I certainly can.
“Pain,” I whined, stretching out the word for the full effect, and Damar gave me a strange look.
See, I told you I could say it.
Yes, and back to the point. I hurt. I ache. I want to murder Devil Spawn. Sighing, I leaned back into Damar, who only spared a hand from the reins to ruffle my hair. I pouted further, simply because he was trying to cheer me up.
We had been riding since dawn, and it was late morning at the moment. After a few days, I had settled into the pattern of riding all day, resting both ourselves and the horse around midday, and then riding partially through the night. During the day, I would amuse myself by seeing if I could get a rise out of Damar. I discovered that, while I found it difficult to anger him, it didn’t really take too much to embarrass him so much that his face seemed to glow as red as my hair. It really is an impressive color for one’s skin.
When night fell, I was usually lulled to sleep in the saddle, and would wake up the next morning camped out somewhere. Apparently, Damar would find someplace to stop and sleep, and would somehow move me off of Devil Spawn and on to the ground without waking me. I am a heavy sleeper, after all.
Interestingly enough, I think I kick and roll around in my sleep as well, because my little Dama was sporting a pretty red mark on his cheek that exactly matched my hand-size one morning. Go figure.
As we traveled—usually at as fast a pace as Devil Spawn could manage for long periods of time—I noticed that the scenery was changing drastically. My country, Niall, was a relatively temperate area, and it was home to a number of deciduous (this is yesterday’s word of the day, and I will explain more about that a little later) forests and some fields with relatively fertile soil.
So, if you weren’t royalty (bwahahaha) like me, or a servant, like … hehehe … nurse Damar, then you were a farmer, forester, or hunter. Of course, ‘forester’ is the politically correct name for a lumberjack. And lumberjacks (and … lumberjills?) are scary. Not as scary as my mother, though—even lumberjacks cower before her and her squirrel-dresses.
As we rode further on, I noticed that the lush forests began to fade, and the green meadows became dried grass areas. It was growing hotter and hotter as we went, and I tugged at my tunic in an attempt to cool myself off. The vegetation grew even more sparse as we followed the dirt path, and I could tell that the trail would die off soon.
“Prince Edan, are you trying to think again?” Damar interrupted my musings with a seemingly innocent inquiry.
I blinked slowly, nodding my head in response, still clutching my bag to my chest. “…Why?”
“Because you had that zoned out look on your face—you know, the one where your eyes get all glassy and you start to drool a little? Maybe you should take it easy?”
Aww, Damar is concerned for … wait a second … was that an insult?!
Before I could exact revenge, my nurse had led Devil Spawn off the path and under a large tree. He dismounted easily, then held out his hands to help me off the tall horse. With my pride already bruised from his earlier comment, I was not about to admit that I needed help getting of the devil horse. Hmphing and raising my chin, I swung one leg over the saddle to join the other, ignoring his outstretched hand—and promptly plummeted to the ground, landing face first in the stiff grass. I … meant to do that.
Damar simply looked at me, his eyes twinkling as though he wanted to laugh, and shrugged. With the reins still in his hands, the older boy led Devil Spawn, who made a point of whipping me with his tail as he stepped past me, around the tree and towards a small watering hole nearby. I sighed, turning to lay on my back and staring up at the umbrella shaped top formed of sickly yellow leaves of the tree.
Poor tree, it stood all alone in the grassland, not another tree in sight. I sympathized with the tall plant, though I wasn’t truly alone, since I had Damar and Devil spawn to serve … er, keep me company. Still, it was almost as if the tree and I shared a certain kinship—
“ … Prince Edan, why are you hugging the tree?” I blinked, tightening my arms around the tree protectively before slowly withdrawing. Stupid Damar, he always had a way of ruining touching moments.
Damar stood above me, loosely holding the bag with one hand by the strap, and Devil Spawn was still happily draining the water hole. I shifted positions a little, trying to make myself comfortable on the grass by leaning against the rough-barked trunk of the tree. Damar lowered himself to the ground next to me, crossing his legs and setting the bag between us.
My stomach growled, alerting me to my hunger. What little food we had left was in the bag, but reaching forward and retrieving it would require … effort. Being tired, and therefore lazy, I made no move towards the bag, but instead made eye contact with my guardian. Sticking out my lower lip in what I knew was a cute pout, I drew my eyebrows together, set a pleading look in my eyes, and held out my cupped hands just a little.
The blonde watched my facial expression transform, blinking before replying, “We’re almost there, don’t worry.”
…
You idiot! This is not my ‘are we there yet’ expression, this is my ‘feed me, I’m hungry’ expression! Note the position of the hands, the slight exaggeration of the pout—have you learned nothing from my teachings?! Peon.
“Nuuu,” I complained with exasperation, then doubled my efforts towards looking cute and pitiful. I pleaded, “Feed me.”
Slowly but surely, the thought processed in Damar’s mind, and he gave me that look of his yet again.
“Can’t you feed yourself?”
“Fe-e-e-ed me!” I repeated, slumping against the tree.
“Prince Edan—” Damar began, sounding slightly annoyed.
“Dammit, Damar, just feed me!” I snapped.
… Patience isn’t exactly one my virtues.
With a roll of his eyes—I saw that!—the blonde leaned forward and began to search through the bag. After a moment, he withdrew a bundle wrapped in soft hide and unrolled it to reveal a small collection of jerky sticks. I made a face, as Damar still refused to tell me exactly what kind of meat it was, but opened my mouth a little anyway. Damar scooted a little closer, awkwardly holding the jerky in front of my mouth, and I took a small bite before smiling triumphantly.
“See, Dama? It wasn’t so hard,” I said in a teasing voice, reaching out to pat him on the head in the same manner as one would pet an obedient animal. The only warning I got was a slightly evil flickering in Damar’s blue eyes before the dried meat was abruptly shoved in my mouth, nearly choking me.
Gah! I spluttered, coughed, and spat the jerky out into my hand. When I raised my eyes to glare at my nurse, he only smiled innocently back.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Bastard.
-
Consciousness slowly seeped into me as I became aware of the temperature. I felt hot, very hot, as though I was wrapped in a woolen blanket and set out in the baking sun. With a quiet moan, I lifted my head from its pillowed location, confusion slowly filtering in as I felt an extra weight draped across my back. My eyelids fluttering open, I found my vision filled with beige-colored fabric. Blinking, I tipped my head up a little, and my jaw dropped when I saw the face of Damar, an expression of serene sleep on his face, just above mine.
Gulping, I realized what position we were in as full feeling returned to my limbs. I was curled up, snuggling against his chest while one of his arms was lazily thrown over my back, holding me close. My hands were folded between my chest and his stomach, his body heat added to mine to make the heat unbearable. It took me only a fraction of a second to grasp that this was most certainly not the position the two of us had fallen asleep in.
After eating, we had agreed to rest for a few hours before continuing our journey, and so we had each stretched out under the tree, reveling in the shade. We had settled side by side, but apparently … eh, I knew I shifted in my sleep, but this was embarrassing. Cuddling for support was one thing, but this kind of snuggling was of a completely different breed.
Once my thoughts had calmed, the tiny voices in my head no long waging war, I realized that I was still holding my breath. And Damar was still holding me. With a strangled cry, I abruptly pushed him away, scrambling to my feet and stumbling back a few steps. He started awake, looking comically alarmed, apparently unaware of our previous position.
Pointing a finger at him, one hand clutched to my chest, I accused rather loudly, “Cooties! Damar cooties!”
… Yeah, it wasn’t the fact that we were both guys that creeped me out … actually, I had never really thought about that. The whole romance thing with anyone had never crossed my mind, much less which gender I preferred, though I do admit that a lot of girls scare me—they have fangs and claws and, while they all deny it, I have the sneaking suspicion that they have fire breath as well. Anyway, I was thoroughly creeped out by my earlier snuggling because it had been with Damar, my best friend and protector. That was just … wrong.
Was my subconscious trying to tell me that I needed someone I could snuggle with? … You know what? My subconscious can just shut the hell up. Hmph.
Damar, who looked undeniably confused, had sat up by now and was watching me as though I had gone insane—oh no, that happened long ago. How could you forget the incident involving the chicken and the cucumber, dear Dama?
“Ewwwwww!” I howled, still pointing at him as I hopped up and down with eyes clenched shut, nose wrinkled, and lips pursed.
The expression on Damar’s face as he stood and began to pack our sleeping mats away all but said, ‘This is going to be a very long day.’
-
“Prince Edan, just put it on, please. It’s for your own safety.”
“Nuuu! You can’t make me!” I wailed, clinging to the tree.
…I was wrong, he could.
After he managed to pry me off the tree, we wrestled on the grass for quite a while. It was no surprise that Damar eventually managed to pin me down, as he was older, considerably taller, and much stronger than I. Grr. You dare touch my royal personage?!
…At the very least, Damar now has a growing bruise the size of my fist on his left cheek.
Holding my arms above my head with one hand, he shook the bundle of gold fabric in my face. “Put. It. On.” …Methinks I wore he patience down a tad.
“Never! I will never surrender!” I cried dramatically, trying to flail my limbs to no avail, since he had managed to pin them all down.
“Never?” Came the deceptively innocent inquiry, and I narrowed my eyes before nodding. “I wonder…” he murmured, his free hand slowly drifting towards my stomach. I glanced down at the position of his hand, my eyes widening noticeably.
He wasn’t … he wouldn’t dare … oh fu—
Before I could even respond properly, the blonde had used my weakness against me, poking his fingers into the sensitive area on the side of my stomach. I, obligingly, exploded in laughter, desperately trying to get away from his touch.
“S-stop!” I was nearly suffocating by now, and he still tickled on relentlessly. And just like that, my resolve shattered, “I give up! No more!”
As abruptly as the torture had started, it ended. The boy got up off me, standing and brushing loose grass from his dark-brown breeches. He had already lectured me on how I was to act, and that, while my voice wasn’t precisely masculine (another grr) I should keep talking to a minimum. He was my servant, damn it, and yet he always got away with acting like my brother … well, I can’t honestly say that he’s enough of a prick to be classified in the same group as most of my brothers, but he’s getting close.
I snatched the dress away from his outstretched hand, glaring at him balefully. I swear it, one of these days I am going to kill him.
Dresses … are hard to ride in. I was seated behind Damar when we set off again, which was unfortunate, since he couldn’t see all of the dark looks I was giving him. I worked so hard perfecting those looks, too. Riding sidesaddle was perhaps more uncomfortable for me, though I did find consolation in squeezing the boy ahead of me a bit too tightly about the waist.
Devil Spawn seemed to find this all amusing, and he periodically flicked his tail up to swat me when he knew Damar wouldn’t notice. Stupid horse.
It was mid-evening by now, the sky dark and the moon shining above, and we had finally crossed over into the territory of the country Damar said would shelter us. Gradually, the grassland faded into a desert-like landscape, and the path we had been following faded into nothing but windswept hoof-prints. I imagine that the temperature would have been warmer still, but it was nighttime, and the temperature had cooled accordingly.
I had refused to stuff the front of my dress with anything, as that was pushing it, and Damar commented that I was just as scrawny of a girl as I was as a guy. The dress, thankfully, wasn’t low-cut, but it was uncomfortable regardless. It fell to my ankles hiding part of my riding boots that I had decided to keep on, and the top was a square cut with straps holding it up on my shoulders. Silver trimming contrasted the gold, which matched my eyes, and an equally silver ribbon was tied around my waist.
After much persuading, my main argument being that I was freezing my ass off, I managed to convince Damar to allow me to wear one of my loose button-down tunics over the dress. My hair refused to be tamed, and I didn’t allow Damar near me with rouge or any other cosmetics. I can bite pretty damn hard, you know, and Damar knew this well enough not to put his hand anywhere near my face when I was angry. Needless to say, I was incredibly insulted when my guardian simply shrugged and said I looked feminine enough. Needless to say, I was incredibly insulted when my guardian simply shrugged and said I looked feminine enough.
Therefore, my current state of being utterly pissed off.
I wonder, would poison be most effective with ridding myself of Damar? Maybe fire—oh that’s even better. Yes, he deserves to die slowly, oh so slowly …
Despite having rested at midday, I was still very tired. And very bored, too. When would we reach this kingdom that Damar had connections in? What would happen when we got there? I resisted the urge to whine the dreaded phrase, ‘Are we there yet?’, repeatedly, although it would have given me great satisfaction to watch Damar twitch in annoyance.
Weary, I allowed my form to lean up against Damar’s back, still contemplating methods of killing him, my eyes idly scanning the horizon.
And that was when all hell broke loose.
The addressed boy smiled gently, the reins of his Kaevi held loosely in his hands. “He doesn’t know,” Royce replied quietly, unconcerned, his aqua eyes flickering briefly over the other four men, all guards.
They were out on the evening patrol, scouting the borders for the brigands that many of the townsfolk had been complaining about. Apparently, the bandits were outlaws from a neighboring country, sentenced into exile for whatever crimes they had committed, and were consistently pillaging the outermost villages.
“My Prince—” the man began, looking disapproving and vaguely startled that the Crown Prince had managed to get out of the castle, and all the way to the border, no less, without the King’s consent. His words were halted, though, when the elegant boy held up a hand, his brows furrowed in concentration.
Each guard fell silent, watching their prince for some sort of signal as to what was happening. The gesture came soon enough, Royce straightening his back and pointing a finger to their left. In tacit agreement, the men dismounted and led their beasts behind a mound of boulders nearby.
The Kaevi were trained to remain calm under most circumstances, and they tamely allowed their riders to guide them, lying down in the sand where directed. The group of five took up ready positions behind the rocks, weapons drawn. Royce gripped his own Kris tightly in one hand, wondering briefly if he would actually have to use the wavy blade.
After some time of patiently waiting, the sound that Royce had detected grew louder and considerably clearer. Instead of the stampeding marauders they had expected, the noise betrayed the steps of a slow-moving beast of burden.
Peeking through a hole in the boulders, Machen signaled two of his men to put away their blades and to take out the dart pipes from the pouches at their sides. Royce watched with interest, heavy soled hide slippers nearly disappearing amidst the tan sand as he squatted, his back leaned up against the cool rocks. He tucked silver strands behind his ears absently, wishing that he could peer out to see just who was riding, unannounced and unexpected, in the desert at this time of night.
Machen gave a curt nod to the two dartmen, gesturing for Royce and the remaining guard to prepare to ambush the trespassers once they were close enough—there was no point in trying to exclude the prince, the guard-captain knew that the boy would join them in battle regardless of what he was told to do.
A moment later, they were within range. Jumping up, the dartmen aimed and blew a quick breath through the pipe, sending a small but accurate dart sailing towards the two mounted victims. The taller rider turned at the sound of rustling sand, earning him a dart on the left side of his neck. The smaller once, dressed in some sort of shiny fabric, was huddled up too close to the other for a clear shot, so the barb ended up striking somewhere in the upper arm area.
Machen gave a shout, and the concealed men sprung from their hiding place, blades sheathed, and dashed through the sand towards their prey. As expected, the large horse was frightened, and it shied away and neighed wildly, the whites showing in its eyes. One of the guardsmen had mounted his Kaevi and was ready to catch the black horse should it escape the human circle formed around it and give chase.
The riders were clinging to the black stallion and looking frightened indeed, but Royce could see that the blonde boy riding in front was already beginning to lose consciousness. Soon enough, the poison on the dart took effect, and the taller boy slumped over, nearly falling off the terrified horse.
The one riding in back of the tall boy was still burying their face in the unconscious boy’s back.
Machen called out a series of calming words, slowly approaching the large horse with hands raised as if to say that he would do no harm. Royce watched the scene with interest from his position near the rear of the horse.
Once the horse had calmed a little, though it was still obviously worked up, one of the guardsmen stepped forward to slip the unconscious boy from the saddle. The other rider, whose face Royce was unable to see since he was positioned behind the stallion instead of in front, immediately tensed and snatched up the dropped reins. Apparently, the poison was taking a little more time to knock the rider unconscious since the dart had landed somewhere other than the neck.
“Just calm down, we’re not going to hurt you. Come down,” Machen tried to persuade, attempting to soften his harsh voice. The rider looked as though they were about to spur the horse into running, but hesitated due to the unconscious boy in ‘enemy’ hands.
“No!” cried the rider, voice sounding frightened and desperate, but stubborn as well. At the yell, the already nervous horse gave a startled neigh and abruptly reared up.
Royce watched with wide eyes as the small form was thrown from the saddle, flying backwards. Regardless of the dangers of nearing the upset steed, the silver-haired boy dove forward and threw out his arms in a desperate attempt to catch the falling figure.
The world seemed to slow down as the gold-dressed rider tumbled into Royce’s arms, sending them both toppling over into the soft sand. With a quiet groan, Royce sat up, well aware that there was a weight in his arms.
When he looked down, a surprising sight met him, and his breath hitched in his throat in response. Staring up at him was a pair of bright golden eyes set into an adorably innocent face, soft lashes brushing the tops of cheeks as the person blinked lethargically in a drugged haze. Wild red hair with yellow and orange streaks here and there framed the heart-shaped face, falling over those eyes unkemptly. Pink lips parted slightly as Royce continued to gaze down at the face, transfixed, before golden eyes slowly slipped closed as the drug finally took effect.
Royce continued to stare at the sleeping figure held so carefully in his arms, his own body forced to still, as if a single movement would wake the angel. After a moment, he spared a hand to gently brush the errant tendrils from the red-haired one’s face, fingers lingering over the closed eyelids. He was still caught up in the moment when the guards called to him, and he could only smile as he wished the dozing seraph a peaceful slumber.
