Work Text:
'Dear Richard…'
The words slowly formed on a creased sheet of parchment.
Asbel had tried writing such letters before, but this time, this time he was really going to send it! Ink continued to curl across the page, shining faintly in the dim light from the eleth lamp crouched on the opposite corner of the wobbly old desk. His quarters at the Knight Training Academy were cramped, dingy even, but Asbel rarely occupied them for long. Didn’t have the time.
It’d been another busy day, with Major Victoria forcing them to run laps around the inner courtyard until the had cadets bent over gasping for air, only to be followed by more practical teachings and book work - geography, history, etiquette, then kitchen duty, studying for an upcoming exam…
Asbel could barely keep his eyes open much less think about what he was actually writing. But he’d put this off for way too long already. What if Richard thought he’d forgotten all about him? What if he thought Asbel didn’t care, that he was going back on his promise of friendship? That he couldn’t rely on him at all?
Those worries prompted Asbel’s quill, urging it forward over the next couple of sentences.
'How've you been? Things are going great at the Academy. Major Victoria says if I keep it up, I might even be able to advance to intermediate level next year!'
His pen slowed, forming the words carefully and hoping he sounded polite enough. Did Richard have servants who checked through his mail? What if one of them felt his letter was too impertinent, too rude, and decided to throw it away?
Asbel sat up a little straighter, squinting at what he’d written. From here he could see just how shaky his hand was, how the paper curled up at the corners. It hardly looked like a letter for a prince. Richard would probably still read it, though. Right? Richard wouldn’t just ignore him. That is… if it was delivered to him.
'I've wanted to come visit you,' he continued, 'but things have been busy and days off are pretty rare. Remember that guy we bumped into before? Well, his name's Captain Malik Caesar and it turns out he's one of the instructors here. There's a winter vacation coming up soon, though. If you think you can manage it, maybe we could hang out?'
"Hang out"… Now that was definitely impertinent. Asbel frowned down at the words, wondering if maybe he should cross that part out. But if he did that, he’d have to start the whole message over… He might not finish tonight!
Asbel scooted the paper aside and grabbed for another sheet out of his desk drawer.
'Dear Richard,
'Actually, they haven't been all that great. I mean, things at the Academy are going fine. I've learned a lot from the instructors here, and you don't need to worry about me. I was totally serious before when I said I was going to become a knight. I may still be in the beginner's class, but I'm making progress. They say if I apply myself more and keep trying, I can probably advance, maybe.'
Asbel kept writing, his penmanship becoming clumsier and clumsier as his vision began to blur.
'It's been hard, though. I keep thinking about what happened, what I should've done. I keep thinking about Sophie. I wonder if maybe I'm not strong enough yet. I worry sometimes that I won't be able to protect you like I promised I would. And I couldn't stand it if something happened to you, so'
Hastily brushing at his eye with an arm, Asbel continued to write.
'I miss you, Richard. I hope we can see each other again soon. Until then, stay safe.'
Asbel sighed deeply, looking away from the soft, wavering glow and trying to still the ache in his gut. It had been years already, but still that night in the catacombs stuck with him. Would things have turned out differently if he’d listened to Sophie? Could they have gotten Richard out and avoided that damned monster somehow? Would Hubert still have been taken away? Maybe somehow it was his fault. Maybe Dad thought he was a bad influence on him and he didn’t want a second delinquent son. And what about Cheria? She probably hated him right now.
It was then Asbel realized the parchment was sprinkled with tiny wet blotches. One had appeared in the curve of the “f” in safe, causing the dark lines to fuzz outwards. Asbel groaned, swiping at his eyes again and picking up the damaged letter. He…couldn’t send this. Not now. He just couldn’t. What would Richard think if he knew he was this close to breaking down? Asbel didn’t have the heart to add to the prince’s own worries.
Crumpling the parchment between still shaking fingers, he tossed it into the wastebasket and slowly crawled into bed. Surely some sleep would do him good. Clear his head…
It was the forty-ninth letter he’d written and thrown away since coming to Barona.
Warm breath surfaced as small clouds on the air, the ever-present wind ruffling his cloak and freeing a strand of blond hair from its trappings.
Richard stared up at the impressive facade of the Knight Training Academy, wanting not for the first time to find the man who invented the cloak and personally thank him for creating such a useful garment and disguise.
It was reckless, to be sure, venturing from the castle when things had become so chaotic and uncertain within its stone walls - and without, he noted mentally - but he felt his destination as if it pulled at his very soul. Because this was the place where he could find Asbel, the dear friend he had not seen in years.
The young prince glanced around him, and spying no guards, swiftly reached for the handle, swinging one of the great doors open just enough for his slender form to squeeze inside. The hallways themselves were chilly, open as they were to the inner courtyard which one could admire from all angles. Keeping his head bowed, Richard crept forward, one hand brushing gently along the stone pillars, thankful for the long shadows they cast. In his younger days, he might have been giddy with a sense of discovery, but now, he simply hoped he would not be caught.
Cadets and instructors alike passed by periodically, but none seemed to pay him much mind. Most of the students carried books or armfuls of equipment, while the few teachers he observed seemed at least partially distracted, their eyes flickering towards the inner heart of the school.
Finally, once the last footsteps had faded from his hearing, Richard chanced a look at the courtyard himself. The cadets there were arranged in two long lines, evidently in the middle of training. They took turns, it seemed, facing off against one of the instructors with a weapon of their choosing.
Richard couldn’t help but watch, entranced, as one of the cadets - a female - lunged forward with a spear, trying to crowd her teacher up against the opposite line of students. A few of them hastily shuffled backwards, wearing grim expressions. The fight was over in nearly an instant, and if he had blinked, Richard would have missed it completely. The instructor twisted away from the cadet’s swing, leaving less of herself open to attack. In that same movement, she readjusted her grip on her own spear, channeling power down its length, and knocked the weapon clear out of the girl’s grip. The cadet fell to her knees, apparently stunned that she had been defeated so abruptly.
"All right, well, that’s that. Next!" One of the watching instructors called.
"Yes sir!" a young man from the middle of the line answered, stepping forward with a sheathed blade strapped to his belt.
"Your name, cadet?" Richard thought he caught the slightest hint of approval in the man’s voice as the cadet ducked into a bow, brief but effective.
"Asbel Lhant, sir." The cadet replied.
'Asbel…!' Richard’s heart nearly startled from his chest as he shifted closer to the railing, craning to get a better view of him. It was impossible to make out the blue of his eyes across such a distance, but the boy standing there could be no other. Richard recognized the determined stance, the mess of auburn hair. There was something a bit different about him, something that had changed since their last meeting, but Richard would know him anywhere!
Asbel’s hand went to the hilt of his weapon as the woman instructor again stepped forward, shifting her feet to take advantage of her spear’s much longer reach. Asbel did not waver, however. With a shout, the blade flashed in the afternoon light, swift and sure. A loud ringing sound followed, then another, and another.
Richard’s fingers curled tightly into the marble of the railing, eyes wide as he watched the two forms fly at one another. It was the same determination he’d remembered from when Asbel faced off against Bryce, and he found himself wanting to make his way out onto the lawn, to cheer him on. But his boots remained rooted to the spot, his well-wishes and fierce shouts of support limited to his own mind.
The two weapons struck again and again, metal on metal, metal on wood, the next meeting sent Asbel lurching backwards, and for a moment Richard held his breath. The moment ended immediately, Asbel ducking the next swing and countering it with a strike of his own. He was trying so hard…Asbel was fighting, and Richard needed to do the same. For too long now he’d simply tried to survive, but he knew well that Cedric hadn’t given up, and he was gaining more and more support from nobility and commoners alike. If Richard didn’t fight, find some way to outwit him, then he’d never see the day when someone like Asbel could truly become one of his knights. He needed to become a king worthy of that determination and trust. He needed to become just as strong as Asbel was, no matter how arduous the battle.
Richard continued to lean forward, blonde hair spilling across his face as he willed himself closer. Surely Asbel wouldn’t give up so easily. If he paced himself and targeted his opponent’s weak points, he would surely win.
A hand descended on Richard’s shoulder, and a sudden jolt went through him like a bolt of lightning. Every muscle tensed, every sense struggled against the inevitable. His head burned painfully as Richard tore around in a mad attempt at escape, fingers clutching at the edge of his boot and stretching to reach the dagger hidden there, to reach cold, dark salvation. A strong hand caught his arm before he could.
"Your Highness."
"Unhand me!" Richard commanded, lashing out with a free elbow.
"Your Highness," the voice repeated more sharply, and Richard looked up into the face of one of his guards, newly assigned. The man stared at him oddly, perhaps even a bit afraid. He cleared his throat and took a step backwards. "It’s dangerous for you to be wandering around Barona without an escort. Please allow me to accompany you back to the castle."
Richard’s heart was still thundering as he rose on legs that trembled. It was hard, so difficult to know whom he could and whom he couldn’t trust anymore. Only a short day ago…
Richard avoided finishing the thought.
"Yes, of course," he murmured, clutching his arm close to his chest. "Please lead the way."
The man hesitated a moment, unused to preceding the royals he was meant to be guarding, but he saluted nevertheless and began marching in the direction of the stairway which lead to the higher city - and the castle.
Richard made to follow him after he had several paces’ worth of a head start, turning his eyes briefly back towards the courtyard. A chorus of voices reached his ears, and he thought - dearly hoped - that Asbel might have won.
'I'll come back,' he promised silently. 'I'll return again, and next time… we'll be together. Keep doing your best, Asbel. And I shall as well.'
Asbel hurried from the courtyard, barreling down one of the halls towards his room. He had twenty minutes before his next lesson, just enough time to pen a letter worthy of sending to Richard. He’d just won against an instructor! He could hardly believe his luck. It gave him hope, and he wanted to tell Richard everything, to assure him as much as himself that he’d see his training through to the end no matter what.
Turning a corner, Asbel caught sight of a visitor walking away from him with one of the city’s soldiers as protection. Was he one of the nobles? It wasn’t unheard of for the Academy to get visitors, usually family visiting their kids, and sometimes members of the court, observing the cadets. Not everyone graduated, and many who didn’t would find themselves accepted into a noble house as a bodyguard, or sent to another city to join the army there.
Something about the retreating form seemed familiar, though. Maybe it was the grace with which he walked, or the way his slender arms positioned themselves at his sides, but for a moment Asbel had the strangest feeling that maybe it was someone he knew. Maybe Richard would come to see him some day. Wouldn’t that be something?
As Asbel followed the pathway around to a connecting hallway, past the front doors and the Knight Academy motto, he saw the noble’s head turn. For the briefest second, he caught the flash of a memory, of three children standing beneath a large tree, facing each other, vowing their eternal friendship. When Asbel blinked again, the young man had gone, the doors closing with a creak.
'Dear Richard,'
Sitting at his desk, Asbel could scarcely shoo thoughts of his friend from his mind. Could that person have really been Richard? Or was it all just wishful thinking on his part? Lack of sleep? Either way, it didn’t matter. His quill bobbed excitedly over the page, and for the first time in a while, Asbel felt genuinely happy.
'Hope you've been well. Training this morning was pretty exceptional, and I wanted you to be the first to know. I wish I could tell you all about it in person. Do you think maybe that'd be possible? I know you're busy and all, and I don't want to get you in too much trouble, but.'
'I'd really like to come see you.'
It was the fiftieth letter.