Chapter Text
Putting his foot for the first time on the cold soil of the Empire's Capital, looking at the contrast between the tan skin of his boot and the hoarfrost on the courtyard of the palace, Gabriel realized that from that moment onwards, his life would change radically.
Now he was just another political pawn in a bigger scale game that he had not agreed to play.
There had been times in the past, many if he had to be honest, that Gabriel had wished to be someone else instead, and now more than ever he felt the same thing. Each of his actions, or the actions of the people around him, had such repercussions on the world, such a toll on innocent people that lived so far away from him, that he almost felt guilty for it. He was not fine with the state of things, but at the same time he did not think it fair he had to pay such a price himself, either.
Indifferent to the storm brewing inside of him, the wall of the palace, decorated with reliefs of stylized lions fighting each other, remained tall and indifferent; they had seen too many people like him walk down that same path before, and at the end of the day Gabriel was still just an enemy. Sort of. Talk about joining the lions’ den.
Slowly, like time wasn't a concept that affected this kind of massive buildings, the doors of the palace opened for him and a gust of warm air tainted with fake aromas hit Gabriel. It felt like a slap in the face, more so than the cold feeling of the exterior, and he was sure he would never get used to either of them. What barbarians.
Gabriel held close the hems of his big fur coat with one hand, trying to wrap it around himself like a shield, a barrier between himself and this hostile world he’d just entered into.
Two figures stepped out from the open doors as they opened; one was a valet in a colorful costume, the other a tall individual, and Gabriel couldn’t exactly figure out what function they were meant to perform. Their slow movements showed lack of care about the time they were making Gabriel waste, having to wait for them. Not like he was in a rush to be anywhere in this land if not far far away from it, but he still didn't appreciate being disrespected. Fuck Adlersbrunn, and fuck how dramatic the people living there seemed to be. When the valet bowed down a few steps outside the doors, the tall one kept walking, a figure that looked straight out of Gabriel's childhood nightmares, wearing snake-like pauldrons and with mismatched eyes. They stopped in front of Gabriel, not close enough to invade his personal space but close enough to appear dangerous.
They didn't bow, prideful as only somebody on the side of the winner could be. There was a disinterested smirk on that pale face and for a moment Gabriel wondered if they had some kind of thing around the mouth –they did seem to sport an unlikely combination of emotions.
“Welcome to Adlersbrunn, prince Gabriel,” they greeted him in Gabriel’s mother tongue, tone calm in contrast with the way they gestured, enough that Gabriel was afraid he would get stabbed and left for dead in such a disgusting place. He found himself regretting not telling his mother and siblings he loved them enough times –or even to his father, even though he was the one who’d forced Gabriel to come here in the first place. He also did regret not seeing the beach one last time to bathe in the ocean’s salty water, letting the warmth of the sun to slowly dry him off while he rested on the beach.
Thankfully it wasn't a knife that reached out for Gabriel but a hand.
It had long, bony fingers, the tips so black they looked necrotic, and dark nails like claws –but a hand nonetheless. Harmless. They wanted to shake hands. Gabriel felt almost dumb, brows creased, but he shook the proffered hand with purpose, wondering if it was normal for a hand to be this cold, even through the gloves he was wearing, or if it was the weather of such a land up North that had the ability to chill its inhabitants to the bone. Gabriel did not really want to become like that –like them.
“I'm Moira O'Deorain, and for the time being I'll be your tutor. I do hope you do not mind having a woman as one.”
Gabriel’s face showed the questions he had about everything, though he felt frozen and not in the state to ask any of them, cold hair crystallizing in his beard, because this Moira person seemed to pick up his confusion and continued her explanation in the same even tone.
“Well, unless you already know how to speak the local language perfectly, which I doubt,” and to her credit, Moira didn't bat a mismatched eye at the burning glare Gabriel reserved her at that, though if he had to be honest, his language skills were kind of rusty, “you will still need me to teach you quite a lot. Etiquette too. The Empire is very different from your own country, prince Gabriel.”
She turned around with a flourish of her black robe and kept talking as she walked back toward the entrance of the palace. “Thankfully for you, the Emperor is a magnanimous ruler and has prepared for your personal use a set of chambers with quite a heating system, which I am sure you will… appreciate. That is the kind of care he has shown to his guest. If you would follow me now, I'll show you to them.”
Gabriel grunted in response, still high strung about the situation and about his desire to be anywhere but there, but he moved to follow his new tutor, who sent off orders to the valet, sending him scampering to the carriage that had brought Gabriel into this foreign land. It was probable he had been ordered to take care of Gabriel's luggage, although he looked as scrawny as a scarecrow; honestly Gabriel had enough muscles for both of them and he would have preferred dragging his trunks up the enormous staircases of the imperial palace on his own than being treated with fake kindness and pampered when he was actually an hostage.
Despite that, Gabriel followed Moira inside, his father's words weighing him down like the worst punishment ever, for something he actually had nothing to do with. What was Gabriel's fault, in the end? He was born second son to the Royal family of Reyes, and that was it. Hadn't he valiantly fought on the battlefield? Yes, absolutely, with all the ardor that his young body had allowed him, and the scars on his face sometimes still stung when he thought too intensely about those days. Yet they had lost, and the high walls decorated with pretty pictures of that cold palace were now the bars of his new gilded cage.
“You're not actually from here, are you?” He interrupted Moira who had been explaining something about the palace. Gabriel hadn't spared her any attention, too wrapped up in his own sulking. “Why would you stay here?”
“I see we have lots to work on, starting from your etiquette,” she sighed, turning around once again to face Gabriel. Her robe flared around her and it reminded Gabriel of a dark flower blossoming, a bad omen of worse things to come. “But to answer your question, no I'm not from here. I originally come from a vassal country like yours,” and there she smirked cruelly in response to Gabriel's clenched teeth at her remark. “I have found more resources here in the Empire's capital than everywhere else, so I remained. And in the meantime I got to play as the Emperor's lapdog like everyone else.”
If Gabriel had to be honest, she creeped him out. As she resumed walking towards her, their, destination, Gabriel followed but couldn't stop the uneasy feeling from clenching his stomach together with the resentment and hurt. His skin was crawling under his dark fur coat, useless now that they were inside the palace's wall and the air felt warm and stiff to the point of suffocation. Thankfully a gush of fresh air, that same cold air that he had despised not one hour before, hit them when they reached an open corridor full of columns.
The corridor led to a luxurious garden full of trees and plants that Gabriel had never seen before, so different from what he was used to, with their thin leaves that looked like needles and bark peeling off as if it were old skin. Even the vegetation didn’t help him feel any less out of place, and surrounded by Moira’s meaningless blathering of praise and vanity, Gabriel felt that if he did not run now from this prison closing in, he would die.
The idea hit him then, sudden like lighting. What if he actually escaped? He could run through the garden and climb up one of those odd trees that was close enough to the walls to jump out. There was no armor on him to be of hindrance so he could easily do it, his body still in good shape due to years of war and strict discipline. After that, he could find a horse to steal –he wouldn't be proud of himself for that but it was a means to an end –and fuck politics and his father, he would return home. Monastic life to follow, probably.
Before he could think this through, his feet had already halted, the new leather of his boots cracking at his sudden shift in direction and there went Gabriel, jumping over the bushes and into the green of the garden. He could hear Moira's voice calling for him to stop but without much feeling, like she almost expected for something like this to happen. With a leap akin to that of a horse, Gabriel landed on the soft grass and from there it was a zigzag run between the trees; he passed through many before finally stopping to lean against the trunk of one of them to get some breath back. The cold air was stinging once again, and this time his overworked lungs did too.
Huddling up once again inside his fur coat, Gabriel thought about what to do. Taking off the coat and leaving it there was out of question –it might make him lighter but he probably would freeze to death without it. Though now that he looked around… the palace looked so small from afar yet there were no walls in sight. Where had he ended up? Did the imperial palace just open in the woods or was the garden just this wide? Gabriel didn't know which direction to take.
He lifted his head to stare above the treetops, and noticed that the pale sun was inching his way to the horizon; he would need to make a decision soon. Turning back was not an option, even if it meant being disowned by his own family and possibly another war. Nobody could actually agree to live in such a golden cage and still have their dignity and some sort of peace of mind, he didn't believe it. He could only go forward then. Away from the palace.
Step after step Gabriel advanced carefully in that unknown place, cautious of the songs of the birds, as dark as the foliage they inhabited. Their shrills were so foreign to him that they almost hurt his ears, not easing his fears at all. Then suddenly… a familiar sound –a horse neighing. What Gabriel had been hoping for.
Trying to be both fast and as silent as possible, he moved close enough to the source of the noise to see it was coming from two beautiful mares: one of a brown so light it looked gold and the other an unblemished white, shiny fur and strong legs making them tower high over the bushes they were tied to. Both were wearing some of the finest harnesses Gabriel had ever seen, satchels full of necessities, making him wonder who owned such beautiful beasts. Some noble might be around in those same woods. He’d better not let his guard down then. Hands upfront to not spook the animals, he advanced toward them.
The white mare was the first to approach him, her warm muzzle sniffing his hand in search of treats. What a spoiled horse, but he had no time to think about who could have had the chance to care about their animal this well. Gabriel could hear voices chatting from somewhere close by. He had to act. Trying to not make a mess, he untied the reins. The white mare remained calm, but the golden mare wasn't of the same idea as her partner and she neighed loudly, rising up on her hind legs and throwing Gabriel off balance by the sheer strength with whom she pulled on the reins.
Gabriel stumbled backwards and thought he found the ground under his feet for a moment, but he slipped on a treacherous rock and fell through the bushes. His head didn't hit the forest floor only because the heavy coat he was wearing cushioned it with the dark fur of its big collar. Once he opened his eyes again (he didn't realize he had closed them until that moment), there was a pale blue sky looking down at him and his poor figure. Also the voices he had previously heard had stopped talking. Gabriel shuffled around gracelessly, half trapped within the bushes, and that was when he saw them.
A couple of people. Actually –three. A beautiful woman with brown skin and straight black hair dressed in a dark blue worth of a princess, holding a very young child in her arms and her companion, a guy around Gabriel's age with hair as gold as the sun and pale skin, wearing clothes of a soft sky blue, sitting on a bench in the middle of a clearing.
They were so painfully beautiful to look at, like one of those foreign paintings that Gabriel had loved, leaving him speechless yet he must have interrupted their amiable chat with his fall, given that the man was unsheathing a rapier.
Gabriel lifted both hands in a wordless gesture of surrender, brain scrambling to remember what little he could about Akande’s lessons before Gabriel had been forced to leave. He sounded hesitant and what he said probably was more of a mockery of ‘no arm’ than anything sensible, but it was enough for the man not to impale him with his blade.
For that he was very appreciative, thank you, considering he had no weapon to defend himself with. He guessed that came with being a hostage. The man was sheathing his rapier away at his side and Gabriel let out a tense breath.
A blade in-between his eyes was by no means a good way to part from this world, but contrarily to Gabriel’s hopes, rather than just put his sword away and cease interactions, the man rose from the bench and walked towards Gabriel, leaving behind his lovely companion. He walked with purpose, elegant and secure, and in any other occasion that would have been something Gabriel could have admired, but now it only made him wary about a confrontation.
Gabriel did not look like an assassin, nor would he make for a good one, so there was no need for a cocky noble to come at him or shame him further for his fumbling, or worse! –yet the man stopped by him and bent down, offering him a hand.
When he spoke his voice was deep and a bit raspy, calm and nice to listen to, and even if Gabriel didn't exactly get everything that he said he knew enough words to understand that the sentence meant “are you alright?”
Surprised by that turns of event since he was still fearing for the blade that could kill him, Gabriel looked up at the man. This noble in his shiny boots and rich azure clothes, his blond hair that the last rays of sun made light up like a halo, in a position of power over Gabriel... was gently smiling down and offering a hand to him, a foreigner barely speaking the same language and sprawled on the forest floor, to take it and rise up. Gabriel could see no malice on that face, strong jaw relaxed and brows not furrowed, and the sight left him breathless.
If there was some kind of depiction of a divine messenger, Gabriel had just found something far more suited for it. Something better. Someone better.
He took the offered hand.
