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Seated on the scratchy satchel of a smelly lumbering Triceratops, shackles marking etches into his wrists, and being secured by rope to the prince of his rival kingdom was not exactly how Prince Gilbert imagined the evening would play out.
But he supposed it was just as well. Any fate, even one of certain doom such as the one that lay out before him, was better than being left in the filthy hands of the bandits who had attacked him. Still he could recall the animalistic grunts rumbling deep in their throats and the ear piercing screeches of their flying dinosaur mounts. The headache brewing in his brain wasn’t too keen on allowing him to forget, and the rocky unsteady rhythm of the Triceratops’s shoulder blades sliding back and forth didn’t help either.
That was the hand of fate, Gilbert mused, turning around to punish him for his reckless and impulsive behavior the previous nights. After the disagreement with his father and rushing ahead of the hunting party assigned to protect him, some god watching from above must have decided the impetuous prince needed a good kick in the bottom.
Gilbert risked a discreet glance upwards. Only feet ahead of the disgusting Triceratops he sat on, the prince from the Plant Eating kingdom rode on his own mount. Gilbert couldn’t recall the name of the creature – many of his books lacked details of dinosaurs outside his kingdom – but it had a well-built plate on its back similar to a turtle’s shell, with spikes jutting out of its flanks. The dinosaur’s tail ended with a massive bony club that Gilbert predicted could be wielded as a deadly weapon should anything provoke the beast.
He peered out of the corner of his eye over his shoulder. A dozen or so soldiers clad in silver armor, the shoulders decorated with faces of similar dinosaurs, rode on their own Triceratops. Their mounts were certainly more impressive than the juvenile they had selected for Gilbert. The Triceratops’ legs rippled with muscles and their horns protruded into the air. The Plant Eating hunting group might appear even more impressive had their mounts not been dwarfed in size by the Tyrannosaurus amidst them.
A wave of pain swept over Gilbert’s heart at the sight of his beautiful mount, Sturdy. The Tyrannosaurus’s right leg and flank were torn apart by an abundance of bloody claw marks, courtesy of the flying dinosaur bandits. She limped heavily, her head drooping lower than her feathered shoulders. Although the Tyrannosaurus had no strength to do anything other than plod dutifully after her captured Rider, the prince’s soldiers had taken precautions to secure her mouth tightly with iron chains.
The sight of it infuriated Gilbert, almost as much as the prince daring to lay his hands on her. While the soldiers efficiently removed Gilbert of his weapons, the prince inspected Sturdy’s wounds and reassured Gilbert they were easily curable. When Gilbert begged for his innocent mount to be freed, the prince had only quirked up the corner of his lips at him and had the audacity to place a hand on Sturdy’s flank.
“I know you’re an intelligent creature capable of understanding my language, so listen, Tyrannosaurus. You follow us and behave yourself on the journey, and I’ll stitch these wounds up in no time,” the prince had promised, rubbing his hand down the dull red feathers on Sturdy’s side. A soldier had punched Gilbert in the shoulder for clenching his fists while staring at the prince.
“But cause any trouble, and I’m afraid I’ll have to jam my sword into the spine of your master. Understood?” The prince had said with a surprisingly jolly tone, patting the Tyrannosaurus.
Gilbert half expected Sturdy to clamp her strong jaws onto the prince’s arm, as she was prone to do to anyone aside from her Rider who handled her. But instead, Sturdy’s yellow eyes calmly blinked, a serene glaze to them due to pain, and she had followed the hunting party without so much as a growl.
Unusual for the temperamental Tyrannosaurus. Gilbert knew little of the prince from the Plant Eating kingdom, but he’d heard rumours of his excellent handling with dinosaurs of all species. He supposed the prince lived up to the tales.
When Gilbert turned back around, the prince was staring directly at him. Immediately he flushed and dropped his gaze to his shackled wrists. They were chained to his saddle firmly, and he couldn’t attempt to loosen them without shaking the rope that connected him to the prince.
The prince ahead clucked his tongue to his mount and tugged on the reins, and his dinosaur fell into place besides Gilbert’s Triceratops. Gilbert feigned interest in the dense red desert sand underneath his mount’s bulky feet.
All of the soldiers’ angry gazes burned into the back of Gilbert’s riding leathers. As if he poised any threat to the prince. Gilbert was heavily shackled, and the prince’s bejeweled sword rested in its scabbard on his hip. Perhaps the prince was searching for an excuse to accuse Gilbert of attacking him to dispose of the captured prince then and there. His earlier words left little doubt that he’d be willing to kill Gilbert in cold blood if required.
Just then, the Triceratops Gilbert rode on tossed its ugly head back, sending filth coated to its scales scattering. Gilbert didn’t bother to conceal the curling of his lip, leaning back as far as his shackles would allow.
A chuckle sounded beside him. “Never rid a Triceratops before, have you?”
For a second Gilbert contemplated a sharp glare, but settled for turning his nose up. He was a prisoner yes, and while he hated the burden his crown imposed on him, he was still a prince. To admit his naivety regarding the dinosaurs of the enemy kingdom would be a foolish mistake.
“Will I be blessed with the privilege of hearing your voice any time during this journey?”
Gilbert finally furrowed his brow and met the prince’s almond shaped eyes, and almost immediately he noticed how green they were. Green like the forest tree lines Gilbert caught glimpses of when riding past the border of the Plant Eating kingdom. He appeared to be around Gilbert’s height and age with a slightly muscular build and dark olive skin. His long black hair was tied back to keep out of his eyes while riding.
“As a prisoner, I was not under the impression I had a right to speak,” Gilbert answered stiffly. His hands clenched into fists as the prince chuckled under his breath.
“Strange. I had heard the Flesh Eating prince possessed a sharp tongue, but I did not expect it to be quite to this degree,” the prince admitted, tilting his head to the side. His smile gave the impression that he was smirking at a joke only he was in on.
Behind Gilbert, the soldier’s angry glares refused to relent. They nudged their mounts a foot closer, keeping an eye on both the Tyrannosaurus beside them and the captured prince.
“Pay them no attention,” the prince said with a wave of his hand. “They are my personal guards, and they take their job very seriously. As long as you don’t make any incriminating moves towards me, you are safe. And you do not strike me as the stupidly violent kind.”
“No?” Gilbert asked, raising an eyebrow. Might as well play along until he could decipher what the Plant Eating kingdom had in store for him.
“No, not at all. Do you want to hear who I believe you are?”
“You announced your guess only a moment earlier,” Gilbert blandly pointed out.
“Ah,” the prince said, raising a finger, “but you did not confirm nor deny my suspicions. Therefore, any speculation is fair game, no?”
Gilbert was starting to really detest this prince. He didn’t care for the riddles he seemed to speak in. But the prince carried on as though Gilbert was eagerly waiting to hear his opinion.
“Clearly you are of noble descent, if not royal. The riding leathers you wear give that away. And your vocabulary is clearly indicative of someone with respectable education – again, either royalty or noble.”
Gilbert chewed on that for a moment. Attending a hunting party did not require him to wear his crown, and his riding leathers were near identical to his guards. Given that the two kingdoms were extremely reclusive from one another, he could have easily passed himself off as a lost noble had he anticipated their arrival.
“And then there’s the matter of your mount – a beautiful specimen, really.” The prince smiled back at the injured Sturdy, and Gilbert would have clawed him in the face had his shackles not restrained his fist.
“What little I recall of the Flesh Eating kingdom leads me to believe only the royal family has access to such magnificent beasts. But then, you also displayed excellent handling skills with dinosaurs. With some food in your hand and a soothing whisper, any injured Tyrannosaurus would be more than relaxed in your presence.”
Gilbert did nothing but blink. Not that Gilbert would ever admit it, but the prince was laying out a method of escape that he could have used, if he had just taken a moment to think instead of panicking.
“So, with the evidence presented before me,” the prince concluded, catching his eye again, “I could bring to you to my father as the prince of the Flesh Eating kingdom, or write you off as some foolish noble attempting to traverse the Bandit Desert on his own. Which would you take more insult to?”
“You seem to think very highly of yourself,” Gilbert observed between clenched teeth.
“I am not the one shackled to a Triceratops.” The prince smirked. Suddenly, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“It has just occurred to me that I never introduced myself. Forgive my poor manners, good sir.” The prince bowed as low as he could atop a dinosaur.
“Prince Verrick of the Plant Eating kingdom, at your service.”
Verrick. That was the prince’s name that had been dancing on the tip of Gilbert’s tongue all evening. Suddenly, he wished knowledge of the Plant Eating kingdom had not been banished from the library of his castle; he felt utterly defenceless with no knowledge of his enemy to use against him.
“And while I’ve no confirmation of your identity, I presume you’ll have no issue with me addressing you as Prince Gilbert, no?” Verrick winked at him. Gilbert’s shoulders stiffened and he bit his lip as the Triceratops underneath him paused momentarily to relieve itself on the desert floor.
“So tell me about yourself, prince,” Verrick said, leaning back into his saddle. The plated dinosaur underneath him snorted.
“What are your interests? Reading, gossiping, warming the beds of fair maidens?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Gilbert snapped, although he knew it was a risky move. The soldiers behind them kept their steady gaze on his spine.
“How old are you?” Verrick asked, undeterred by his harsh tone.
“Eighteen.”
Verrick’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “I’m nineteen.”
If Verrick was just going to tease him, Gilbert had no interest in playing along with his games. He set his face squarely forward, attempting not to cringe at the scent of manure that his mount reeked of.
“Are you fond of dinosaurs?”
Against his better nature, Gilbert’s ears perked up. He relented with a small nod.
“I heard that about you as well. And if your devotion to that Tyrannosaurus is any indication, I’d be so bold as to claim you’re a talented rider.”
Gilbert adjusted his shackles. A band of sweat was sticking to his wrists where the iron touched his skin.
“Have you ever seen the dinosaurs that travel with my party before?” Verrick asked.
Gilbert held his breath. To reveal his ignorance of whatever mounts the Plant Eating kingdom was a decision he initially dismissed as idiotic, but... he was a prisoner now, regardless. Surely learning more about the dinosaurs the Plant Eating kingdom possessed might prove to be useful information whenever his father sent a rescue party to retrieve him.
“The Triceratops, I unfortunately know of.” Gilbert cringed again as his mount coughed, spewing disgusting spit onto the desert sand. He nodded his head towards Verrick’s mount.
“That one, I am unfamiliar with.”
“Foliage is an Ankylosaurus.” Verrick reached down and brushed off some of the gritty sand clinging to Foliage’s scales.
“They’re rarely used as mounts in our kingdom, since the gods blessed them with too much strength and too little intelligence. Foliage has walked straight into walls right in front of her nose, bless her heart.”
“Quaint,” Gilbert replied. The Ankylosaurus didn’t sit right with him. The large dopy eyes and tongue lolling out of her mouth gave her a friendly appearance, but his eyes kept sliding to the thick club on the dinosaur’s tail tip.
“And of your mount? I know little more than the creature’s name,” Verrick said, gesturing over his shoulder to Sturdy.
Gilbert glanced backwards. By now, Sturdy’s wounds had clotted and the blood running down her flank dried and crusted. She still walked with a heavy limp, but there was life and strength slowly ebbing back into her eyes.
“Your early speculation was correct. Sturdy is a Tyrannosaurus, and is a mount gifted only to the royals that can tame them,” Gilbert answered. He failed to see how the miniscule information would endanger his kingdom in the hands of the Plant Eating prince.
“She’s a gorgeous beast,” Verrick said, nodding his head in deep thought. “Regardless of what my father orders to do with you, I can assure you she’ll be cared for. We wouldn’t dispose such a magnificent dinosaur.”
Gilbert’s heart dropped to his feet. Sweat that couldn’t be attributed to the heavy heat radiating from the sun clung to his forehead.
“You’re reporting me to your father?” Gilbert blurted out.
“You expected anything else?” Verrick replied, raising an eyebrow.
Gilbert clung to his saddle, feeling as though the world was closing in. He could hear all of the tired and labored breathing of the spent dinosaurs and the clanging of metal armor and his own breathing and it was so overwhelming. His heart pounded on his ribcage.
He should have anticipated this, but to hear the news so flatly delivered to him was earth shattering. Sweat dribbled down from his dusty brown curls, but the shackles clattered and restrained his hand when he moved to wipe it off. He licked his lips, desiring greatly for water.
Gilbert was in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by an enemy he knew nothing of, being escorted as a prisoner to a kingdom that had sworn to destroy his. He had no proof as to what the Plant Eating king had planned for him, but he could deduce it was nothing pleasant. Maybe by the time his father sent in troops, Gilbert’s blood would be already painting the castle walls.
One of the soldiers behind them called out something that Gilbert couldn’t decipher. He suspected it was in the native tongue of the Plant Eating kingdom, since he and Verrick had been conversing in Common up until that point. Verrick tilted his head back, and Gilbert followed his line of sight.
The soldier’s gloved hand was pointing at a tiny patch of spindly trees several yards off to the west of their party. Although the leaves decorating the thin branches were sparse at best, it provided enough shade to offer protection from the sun’s harsh shine.
Verrick replied in the same foreign language, the rough and coarse words sounding so odd in his soft and silvery tone. He dug his heels into Foliage’s sides and the Ankylosaurus slowly shifted her body towards the direction of the patch of trees. All of the soldiers copied their prince’s movement, and Verrick tugged on the rope connecting Gilbert to him to encourage the Triceratops to follow.
Gilbert’s heart leapt up into his throat. Normally he prided himself on keeping composed in even the most stressful of situations, but as Sturdy trudged after the assortment of soldiers, all he could think of was the worst. Perhaps they were using the shade of the trees as privacy for a quick execution, to rid themselves of a captured prince that was proving to be a burden...
His fingers began to tremble as they neared the trees. His gaze was drawn to the dazzling hilt of Verrick’s sword resting on his hip. The entire world seemed to slow down as the soldiers dismounted and tied the reins of their Triceratops to the trunks of the trees. One soldier gave a gentle tug on Sturdy’s iron muzzle, encouraging her to rest besides the Triceratops.
Verrick swung his legs over Foliage’s broad plated back. He paused for a moment to scratch the dopey Ankylosaurus’ chin before approaching the flank of Gilbert’s Triceratops. Gilbert’s reflexes caused him to jerk back, his mind racing for a plan of escape.
“W-what are we stopping for?”
Verrick wrinkled his nose at the shaky tone of Gilbert’s voice. “Lunch.”
Oh. The hair on Gilbert’s neck lay flat again, and the excessive sweating ceased. He felt rather irrational for jumping to such hasty conclusions, and he was sure it showed on his face. He allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief – he wasn’t dead just yet.
Once Verrick freed his shackles from their attachment to his saddle, Gilbert was then faced with the problem of dismounting. Without his arms free, he feared losing his balance and falling flat on his face. The Triceratops underneath him wasn’t so keen on helping either, as it squatted to relieve itself once again.
“Do you require any assistance, Your Highness?” Verrick extended a hand.
Gilbert had half a mind to swat his hand away and wipe that insufferable smirk off Verrick’s face, but with the soldiers nearby, that didn’t appear to be an option. After sitting stubbornly for a moment, attempting to swallow his own pride, Gilbert gripped Verrick’s outstretched hand.
The smooth sensation of another’s skin sent a jolt through Gilbert. Verrick’s olive skin was scarred and chipped upon closer view, and his hand held calluses where the hilt of a dagger or riding reins may rest. Gilbert’s palms were worn from excessive riding as well, but his hand felt so soft and delicate when clasped in Verrick’s.
He blinked at that, wondering what the stories behind the scars and calluses were. A nagging voice in his ear scolded him for drifting into his thoughts, and he jerked his gaze up. He noticed Verrick’s permanent grin and rolled his eyes to himself as Verrick assisted him in sliding off the Triceratops’s saddle.
“This way, Your Highness,” Verrick broadly gestured towards the makeshift camp the soldiers were constructing. Gilbert frowned as Verrick slipped his shackled hands into the crook of his elbow to lead him into the camp.
He briefly considered pulling away, before deciding it wasn’t wise. With his arms so tightly restrained anyways, walking proved to be wobbly and difficult without a guide. That was the only reason he allowed Verrick to press uncomfortably close to him, Gilbert justified, and that was it.
And yet as he followed Verrick’s lead into camp, Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder how it had gotten so warm all of a sudden.