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Pepin sat near the tiny slit of a window that barely gave passage to the wind as he hummed with nervous excitement. Today was the day that his betrothal to Lord Abu would be complete and Pepin would be married off to help secure his kingdom. He knew this from his studies and yet the thought of being free gave rise to a spirited flame in his chest.
The servants were hushed as they dressed him in the finest layers of gold and finery the King and Queen had obtained. Despite the rules from his parents restricting anyone from ever talking to the prince, the silence that permeated his chambers was different to the white lion. The servant's hands clasped and cinched his clothing across his wide hips, narrow waist, and bountiful chest with such amazing alacrity and seriousness it was almost as if their lives were on the line.
Compared to his previous eighteen years of confinement and isolation, to have this many hands actually touching the young lion brought lightning running through his bones. He knew nothing of his betrothed beyond that he was a good lord to his people and a strong man. Pepin hoped he truly was strong, if only so he could lift the prince clear off his feet when they left.
Oh how his parents would scold him if they knew he harbored such a desire. As the youngest of eight siblings, Pepin wasn’t truly viable for the throne and his father had made it obvious from his birth he had never planned for him to be anything more than a pawn. To that end his mother had endeavored to ensure he was the most studious husband as well as the most proper wife for any potential suitors.
The servants had dressed him in an ensemble of vibrantly dyed clothes per his mother’s orders, all the better to show off their wealth, and had begun to braid and comb the rivers of hair bright as the burning sunset that fell from his shoulders down to the floor. It was very pleasing to have the bristles and teeth gently caressing his scalp before being carefully drawn through the incredible volume of his blazing locks and it made the excitement inside him grow even more.
Sitting in front of his large vanity, Pepin was only allowed to study himself in the mirror as he thought of his future husband downstairs. Would the wonderful lord he’d heard about actually like his mustache and braided beard that flowed into his glorious brilliant mane? What about his fur, pure white as the first snow of the year, his eyes, sapphires gleaming with curiosity, or his body, whose plump yet firm proportions drew the eye of visiting dignitaries regardless of sex?
There was a sound and the door to his bedchambers opened. Pepin looked up into the mirror to see his sister Cataline step inside the room and swiftly close the door behind herself. Beautiful and willowy with the same brilliant blue eyes and auburn hair a deeper shade than his own, his eldest sister was quite beautiful and incredibly kind. Though normally cheerful, her face was drawn and pale as she took in the sight of her brother.
“Sister! I’m so happy you arrived,” Pepin called to her while beckoning her over. All but the one servant meant to keep the prince’s hair from touching the floor placed themselves dutifully to the sides. “I didn’t expect my wedding to be so soon, but I’m incredibly excited!”
Pepin gave his sister a large innocent grin as she sat upon the stool next to him.
“The first thing I want to do when I’m home with him is to explore every bit of the castle! Then I’ll plan a wonderful reception for us, and I’ll invite our family over. I know how much you enjoy the quail, Cataline so don’t worry, I’m sure Lord Abu will have it available,” Pepin chattered while playing with a long braid that hung near his face. “The ceremony is going to be grand I’m sure. I can smell the kitchens hard at work even from my tower, they must be making an amazing banquet!”
Cataline offered a small smile as Pepin eagerly turned towards her stool and took her hands in his. “Yes, dear brother, the cooks are working furiously to feed everyone.”
Pepin lifted their hands together as he glanced at the tiny slit he had for a window. “I know everyone has been acting funny recently but I never expected it to be because of my wedding! And oh how the sounds of the soldiers reached even all the way here, my betrothed must lead a great army,” the grin on his face became a thoughtful smile as he turned back to his sister. “It is reasonable that such a force is led by a formidable man, no? I’m truly blessed to have a husband as kind and strong as lord Abu.”
At that his sister scoffed. The noise was so unlike her that Pepin was taken aback.
“Brother, your betrothed is indeed a formidable man,” Cataline nearly hissed as she ran her thumbs across her brother’s. “He commands a vast army and is strong in body and incredibly cunning.”
Pepin was concerned with his sister’s voice, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As his height was an eternal embarrassment to his father, the young man had to look upwards to his sister’s angry wet eyes.
“Sister, you worry me with such a tone,” Pepin couldn’t hide the tremble in his voice. “Won’t you tell me the truth behind your words?”
Cataline hesitated, the desire to speak plainly as she was wont to do was writ clear upon her face. After a moment’s concentrated silence she opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted by the chamber doors being flung open unceremoniously by their mother as she marched into the room.
Her eyes were shards of cerulean ice that analyzed everything in the room in a matter of seconds. She disregarded her children’s distress as she observed the state of Pepin’s attire. With a small nod after a moment she gave a painted on smile that did not reach her eyes as she approached them.
“Cataline, your sister could use your help entertaining our guests. Her skills as a harpist are commendable but I believe her fingers are absolutely bleeding by now,” the queen said with a slight wave of her hand.
The queen spoke as if it were a simple joke but her tone brooked no argument. Cataline bowed her head and stood, stiffly pulling her hands from her brother’s, before she hurried from the room. As his sister left, the queen’s guard beckoned the servants out of the room. Pepin’s mane handler gently lowered the prince’s hair to the spotless floor before they also followed the guards.
His mother swept across the room in her blinding silver raiments until she stood over her son. She cupped his chin in her hand and examined him thoroughly despite his murmured questions. Satisfied she finally stood back and with a click of her tongue she gave Pepin a nod.
“You truly look every bit a beautiful bride for our honored guest. He should be most pleased indeed,” the queen purred as she set a finger to her chin in a thoughtful position.
Pepin stood up and faced his mother with confusion mounting in his mind until he could no longer hold his tongue. “What do you mean mother?” The question was laced with anxiety as Cataline’s behavior and her cryptic words crept in his mind. “Why is everyone so worried? I know Lord Abu, I’ve heard many tales of his strength and I’ve seen his kindness in our letters, so please tell me what has happened to my husband!”
The queen stopped in her tracks and cast an imperious eye over her son. “To put it simply my dear child, your fiancé is dead,” his mother’s voice was cold and matter of fact. “He was beheaded by the great Warlord Seffah whom we are entertaining downstairs as we speak. Lord Abu refused to bend the knee and paid the price.”
The news shocked Pepin so much his mouth fell open and his fidgeting hands fell to his sides.
“Dead…?” Pepin whispered faintly.
His mother’s face remained a porcelain mask of cold certainty as she continued. “Though there was knowledge among the common folk of a pairing between our houses, all my years of ensuring you remained the perfect body for one such as he and a well worded treaty should ensure our continued rule.”
Her words were like claws of ice tearing apart the warm shawl of happiness he had woven about himself. “The perfect body? Maman, you told me I would be married to a kind man who loved me!” Pepin couldn’t help the tears that sprang to his eyes and the warble in his voice. “You and papa, you said you always cared about what was best for our family! But this talk, these words, it sounds like you have sold me to a cruel man who only values my flesh!”
The queen laughed then, a cold and hollow sound, and she placed an elegant hand upon her son’s shaking shoulder. “And what, pray tell, do you think would happen to your family if the great Warlord Seffah did not value your body?” She asked him mockingly. “My dearest son, my darling prince, you are the linchpin required to save our family and to keep all of Toulouse under our control.”
She brought her other hand up to thumb a tear off of Pepin’s cheek. “I know you, my darling, and you couldn’t bear to let anything happen to your brothers and sisters. So for their sake, take solace in the fact that your beauty has caught the eye of a magnificent man and be a good wife.”
With that the queen turned on her heel and strode from the chamber, only stopping when she was at the door. “Come now Pepin, it is time you meet your husband.” She ordered icily.
Pepin brushed the light pink pads of his hands against his face and wiped away his tears. His mother was cold and calculating, but she was also correct. If this was the only way to keep his family safe, then Pepin, the virgin prince of Toulouse would do anything he had to. He regained his composure and when next he spoke his voice was quiet but it did not tremble. “Yes mère, I am eager to receive him.”
—————————————————————
Seffah rolled his eyes as the king of Toulouse regaled him with yet another story regarding hunting boars, or was it wolves this time, as their feast continued. Seffah had arrived with a fighting force ready to destroy anyone who had opposed him upon approach, and though he had accepted this union as little more than a political move he wasn’t settled on whether or not he should go through with this marriage or raze the castle to the ground.
He had posed that very question to one of his oldest and most trusted advisors, Rahman the sagest of Seffah’s inner council and a former advisor to his father, and he had received an unsatisfactory answer.
“My lord, it would take us at least a week to destroy the castle’s walls,” he said after lowering the lionfolk’s marriage proposal and looking over the parchment towards his leader. “You’re a grand forty years old my lord, finding another wife and producing some heirs was expected of you years past, why not avoid exhausting our resources and take advantage of this?”
“You mean marry some princess for the wealth of her family?” Seffah’s lip curled at the thought of lowering himself so. “My age has aught to do with my lack of suitable heirs old man. Now what could possibly make this a better deal than simply taking the castle and land by force?”
Rahman gave him a small smile and scratched his left cheek under his eyepatch. “The Virgin Jewel of Toulouse, my lord.” He answered smugly. “A renowned beauty hardly seen by their people, and yet stories have spread for the past eighteen years of an exceptionally beautiful child among the royal family. One whose hair evokes the bloody rays of the dying sun, whose fur is downy and pale as the winter’s snow, and whose kindness is known throughout the servants and common folk alike.”
Seffah nodded. “Yes, she sounds beautiful but what does that have to do with our situation? You of all people know I am not swayed by the first comely maiden I see.”
“While your character is as solid as always my lord, it is the renown of the Virgin Jewel that would win you the hearts of the people here and save us much time.” Rahman said with a knowing glint in his eye.
Seffah considered his options then and there with his giant muscular and scarred body sitting in his tent. “I see the point you are making Rahman, but may Allah help you if I have cause to regret thisss…”
The hiss at the end of his sentence caused the older man to burst into laughter. “Hahaha! Come now my lord, when have I steered you wrong before?”
And that had forced Seffah to roll his eyes in heavy exaggeration. Similar to how he rolled them now as the king recounted having the head of the wolf, no it was a bear, stuffed and mounted upon his mantle. He shifted his gaze towards Rahman ever so slightly as the old advisor laughed along with the king in high spirits. His flaming red irises bore into his most trusted general’s eyepatch as if he could hurry the delegation along by simply focusing hard enough upon the silver tongued bastard.
Seffah suffered painfully from one of his basest weaknesses.
Boredom.
He wasn’t prone to rash decisions, one could hardly manage such a campaign as his while falling to such a constant companion as a wandering mind, and yet he was willing to stab his own hand if it would alleviate the monotony. How could this “marriage” take so long? Seffah leaned slightly towards Rahman and nudged his general.
“If I have to sit through another story of his I will strangle you with his innards Rahman,” Seffah grumbled in Arabic.
King Roland leaned forward ever so slightly as if being closer would translate the warlord’s words to French. Rahman nodded easily and gave a chuckle before looking back towards the king.
“My apologies King Roland, my lord is simply wondering when we might glimpse the ever elusive Jewel of Toulouse?” Rahman let his perfect french drip with anticipation to better butter up the king.
“Ah yes, our darling Pepin is the prize of our family. My wife has even gone to fetch our treasure for our esteemed lord herself and should be arriving any moment,” the king spoke with a puffed up chest as if he had purposely sculpted whatever “treasure” awaited them.
There were two empty seats at the table marking the positions for the queen and Seffah’s soon to be bride. The warlord was considering how much time it truly required for these pompous lions to present themselves when the doors to the meeting room opened and the queen walked in. She was beautiful and elegant, as regal in her golden brown fur and auburn hair as her husband in his brilliantly brighter pelt and orange mane. Above her beauty her sharp blue eyes betrayed her nature as a true predator always looking for her next prey.
Between the two of them, Seffah knew that she was the dangerous one. Her demeanor was as cold as the winter sea as she swept into the room and made her way towards them. As she approached, the men at the table rose from their seats and gave her their full attention. With a smile as beautiful and warm as a fresh blanket of snow, the queen greeted their guests.
“My dearest husband, the wise General Rahman, and the greatest and most gracious Warlord Seffah, I am proud to present my beautiful child before you all,” the queen announced before she gave a flourish towards the entrance. “I introduce my star, Pepin, the Virgin Treasure of Toulouse. Unsullied by even the eyes of those of the masculine sex, Pepin is sure to be a wonderful bride for you. I have seen to it myself.”
As the queen gracefully stepped aside, Seffah could finally see his prize for suffering through this obnoxious comedy. Pepin slowly entered the meeting room with every eye upon him. Even his siblings and the guards in the hall had been unable to avert their eyes as Pepin made his way past them, and now with the doors shut tightly behind him Pepin felt truly displayed as just a thing. His parents were offering compliments and platitudes and so many words unto the two lizardfolk men who stood across from them but they had nothing for their youngest.
Both of them were wearing fine looking tunics with matching turbans and belts bearing sabers that looked of fine craftsmanship. They were both older men but the one with deeper wrinkles and a leather eyepatch looked to the more muscular man beside him. There was an intimidating aura around this man with his gold and silver trimmed belt holding his tunic close to his hulking body. While he was armed, the weapons themselves seemed superfluous to his massive limbs.
Covered in scars from terrible wounds that had pierced his natural scales, Seffah knew he looked frightening. His body was strong from years in his homeland, to the point he was twice as wide as the king with limbs full of knotted muscle. Standing tall, he loomed over this treasure of his hosts almost more than half her height as he approached her. She kept a fan in front of her face almost nervously, and yet her eyes stared at him intensely.
Dressed in finery dyed in rich greens and vibrant reds, his bride had short fur the color of the finest snow gently kissed by the morning sun, thick curling hair falling past her waist in a furious blaze of rich orange shades that put her parents to shame, a figure that was a little broad in the shoulders but buxom with a smaller waist, and eyes of the richest warmest blue. She truly was a prize and yet…
“I did not come to marry a child,” Seffah muttered darkly in his accented French before turning his piercing gaze upon the queen. “Did you consider me a savage who would be unable to resist defiling a young innocent?”
The king went as pale as a corpse while the queen narrowed her eyes sharply with the smallest of grimaces before she gathered herself for a reply. “Absolutely not, my great Lord Seffah! We chose these raiments to portray Pepin’s innocence and his purity!”
The leader of the lizardfolk and his general shared a look before he turned his gaze back to his bride. “He?” Seffah questioned thoughtfully as he analyzed the quiet beauty before him.
“Or she, my lord,” Seffah could hear the smirk on the queen's face. “Pepin is blessed with the attributes of both sexes. He is truly unique, and our dearly beloved treasure.”
The emerald scaled warlord turned his fearsome gaze upon the short prince and Pepin shook quietly as those topaz irises glittered in Seffah’s blood red eyes. Those crimson pools and citrine shards rested in a hard face lined by the warlord’s forty odd years. The scar upon his snout led Pepin’s gaze down to his broad jawline and even lower to Seffah’s massive neck.
Seffah moved closer to his offered bride and his scent flooded Pepin’s nostrils. He smelled of horses, the leather of his belts, the sweat of travel, and the unmistakable aroma of a man. It was enough to make the young lion sway on his feet as the mountain of an older man loomed over him. He could see every bulging muscle in his forearms and legs in fine detail, each limb the size of Pepin’s torso by themself, along with those wicked claws of the verdant giant that faintly smelled of the iron scent of blood.
This man terrified Pepin. He was responsible for the death of his fiancé and assuredly countless others, and yet he sent lightning through the young man’s body. He couldn’t tell if he should bolt from the room or stay rooted on the spot but Pepin knew he could not look away.
Warlord Seffah stood over him, so close his shadow blanketed the smaller man, and still Pepin refused to break eye contact. “You are surely too young to be of any worth upon the road,” Seffah huffed dismissively.
The cold challenging stare refused to shift from him and in spite of it Pepin found himself doing something he had never considered once before in his life.
“I-I’ve been upon this earth for eighteen years my lord!” Pepin squeaked out in a strange mix of fear and the feeling that he should say something.
Seffah smirked down at the lion beneath him as Pepin finally lowered the fan and the lizard could see his neat mustache and beautifully braided beard. “And what have you accomplished in that time, my treasure?” Seffah nearly hissed the last word as he needled the princeling before him.
“I h-have studied various matters from treatises and histories t-t-to,” Pepin stuttered as he nervously clutched his fan in both hands. He swallowed hard and pressed on, “I have extensively studied geography and cartography, as well as writings from a variety of cultures!”
This last bit was punctuated with the small clap of his fan as Pepin stared up into Seffah’s menacing visage with surprising defiance. The king and queen both rushed to their feet with shock and outrage snarling from their lips.
“Pepin how DARE YOU disrespect our-” the queen hissed as her claws scratched the arms of her chair in her rush.
“I will have you punished for this you ungrateful-” the king growled as he began to approach.
Both of them immediately fell silent when Seffah held his hand up. He studied the small quivering lion before him who looked up with such beautiful blue eyes full of both terror and interest. Stronger men than this had crumbled before his presence and yet this quiet man stayed as resolute as he could despite how obvious it was everything in his being demanded he flee or grovel.
“You will not harm my bride,” Seffah spoke quietly but forcefully as he cupped Pepin’s chin with his massive hand. “I can see a curiosity in your eyes little lion, what is it you wish to say?”
“I…” Pepin swallowed hard before he could respond. “I heard that you k-k-killed Lord Abu, Warlord Seffah. I w-wanted to know why?”
The last part was so high pitched it was almost a mewl of terror. Rahman watched as the king and queen’s expressions grew cold and pallid with fear. He looked back to his lord completely dwarfing the princess and wondered if the young lion knew just quite how bold he was being.
Seffah gave Pepin a hard look and despite the trembling in his legs the little lion didn’t look away. He wasn’t challenging Seffah as former generals or whiny nobles had before, he was purely interested in the truth of the matter. For that, he earned some respect from the older man. It wasn’t often someone would ask him so directly for his reasons and it was heartening to know this bride was not yet a viper like his parents.
“Brave of you,” Seffah muttered in Arabic before continuing in French. “You are yet ignorant of the ways of war, my bride, and so I will keep this simple. Lord Abu refused to bow to my demands and that is why he lost his head.”
Faint tears welled up in the small man’s eyes and he finally pulled his face away from Seffah’s giant hand. He stared at the floor numbly as he thought about how cruel and outrageous his demands must have been to result in the death of his wonderful betrothed. What hope did he have that this man would treat his family with dignity?
Seffah straightened up and with a grunt as he looked at Pepin one last time, he turned to those near the meeting table. “I’ve seen enough. I agree to your terms as you have to mine,” Seffah rumbled ominously. “Have my bride ready to leave within the hour, I do not have time for ceremony.”
With that Seffah turned from the frozen rulers and strode from the meeting room, leaving the doors flung wide. Rahman looked at their shocked expressions and chuckled a bit.
“As you can see, my lord is not a patient man. We will be readying the horses in the courtyard and should be able to carry only a few chests worth of items.” He said while two lizardfolk soldiers entered the room with another lionfolk noble flanked by two of his own knights following closely on their heels.
Rahman nodded his head towards the two intimidating soldiers whose size made the knights look like kittens by comparison. “Our lord’s new wife.” He stated simply in Arabic before approaching the prince and putting a hand upon his shoulder. “These men will give their lives to protect you. They will stay by your side no matter the cost to themselves. Take a moment young one and when you’ve gathered yourself come join us in the courtyard.”
He gave a solid pat on Pepin’s shoulder before he casually sauntered out of the room. The lizardfolk soldiers immediately assumed stances on either side of their charge, their measured glances analyzing everything that could be a potential threat, even the nobles. The lionfolk man in fine clothes strode towards the table and looked meaningfully at the king and queen.
“What has happened?” Aymerie asked his parents bluntly. “Why does my sweet young brother cry so softly and that you two would look so pleased with yourselves!”
The king gave him a look of irrelevance and turned to the knight nearest him. “Have the necessities packed for Pepin, he leaves immediately and may only take two chests.”
“Leave?” Aymerie asked himself before he turned to his mother, “Why would he leave? Even if the proposal was accepted, would we not have a feast? A-a wedding, something to celebrate a momentous occasion?”
The knights left after taking his orders and the king strode past his third son without so much as a glance. The queen looked at Pepin as if she were assessing his worth in gold. She slid her eyes from her youngest to her fifth child with satisfaction writ clear across her face.
“No, I’m afraid our esteemed guests are quite insistent on leaving as soon as possible. Sadly this means we won’t have time to properly celebrate what has happened here today,” she spoke mildly as if the thought of holding an actual wedding had never been considered at all.
“And what exactly, dear mother, has happened here today?” Aymerie asked bitterly, “Has another of your plans come to fruition at our expense?”
“Nothing of the sort, your brother has simply ensured the glory and continuation of our house,” the queen said smugly. “Now be a good son and help Pepin get ready for his travels.”
Aymerie tightened his hands into fists but kept his head down as his mother left the meeting room. Left alone together with only the giant lizard men standing at attention, Aymerie turned back towards his younger sibling as Pepin gave a hard sniff. He approached him softly and saw how Pepin’s shoulders shook as he sobbed silently.
With a soft sigh, Aymerie wrapped his smaller brother in a strong hug while he cried against his front. The two bodyguards purposely turned their attention elsewhere and Aymerie felt a small blossom of respect for them. Eventually Pepin’s sobbing came to an end though he stayed close to his older brother.
“Have I been blind?” Pepin whispered hoarsely.
“No little brother, mother just…” Aymerie trailed off as he looked for the right words.
“She just looks to keep power?” The younger brother asked. “Is my life at its end?”
Aymerie let out a deep sigh and rested his chin on Pepin’s head. “She wants what’s best for our family, though she doesn’t care how much she hurts us. But your life, sweet brother? You cannot even think that for a moment.”
“I can’t?” Pepin spoke with a quiet incredulity.
“Non, cher frère,” Aymerie chuckled as the brothers relinquished their hug. “You have not yet truly lived, and so you cannot think that your isolation in that tower was all the world had to offer you.”
“What do you mean?” Pepin asked while he wiped his tears.
The older brother chuckled again and began tidying his brother’s hair. “You are not subtle, Pepin. Your interests lie in the world beyond our home, you’ve even been studying such topics on your own. You were always ready to leave and be whisked away by a handsome suitor, so I would think this should be a wonderful chance for you.”
“Bah!” Pepin scoffed, “How could I enjoy the world while being the wife to such a man as this Seffah? He willingly brought destruction to Lord Abu, what hope do I have?”
“Hush those miseries Pepin,” Aymerie spoke as he helped him adjust his rumpled clothing. “You have studied treatises and history and yet you haven’t asked yourself why Seffah agreed to the marriage. What does he stand to gain?”
This stumped Pepin for a moment as they finished their touch ups. “We have a vast amount of wealth but a small amount of land when compared to our neighbors Aymerie, Lord Seffah should have refused the proposal I think.”
“And what led you to that revelation, my sweet brother?” His older sibling asked as they began to head towards the courtyard.
“He’s in the middle of a campaign. He needs to shore up his defenses and should look to make allies with those of us who would benefit him,” Pepin pondered out loud as they walked. “We have always had to hire mercenaries to bolster our ranks and have stayed as a neutral ground in many conflicts so we are not a good choice from a strategic perspective.”
Pepin gave his brother a sad look that threatened to spill forth more tears from his sapphire pools. “Does that mean he only wants me for my body?”
His older brother crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. “While that is possible, he leads a massive force and a country as well. He is not in desperate need of a body to warm his bed.”
Aymerie hummed a bit as they both considered things. “That must mean he has something on his mind, no? Did he say anything to you during the meeting?” He asked.
“I…” Pepin suddenly paled as he recalled his outburst earlier. “I may have responded indignantly at his description of me…”
He placed both hands over his face and came to a complete stop. “Oh God and all the saints above, I was talking about maps of all things. I didn’t even bow my head properly!”
This made Aymerie’s ears flick as he smiled wide and took in Pepin’s embarrassed expression through his fingers. “Ah, you stood your ground?”
Pepin let loose a mortified gasp and blushed deeply. “I can’t believe I did that!”
“Little brother, have you forgotten that we are lionfolk?” Aymerie chided Pepin softly with a smile. “Even the smallest among us has our pride, it’s only natural you would want to set the record straight. And besides, even I have said too much in the presence of people I found attractive.”
“Attractive!?” Pepin almost squealed in shock while his face flushed an even deeper red. “Surely you mock me Aymerie?”
The taller lion threw his arm around Pepin’s shoulders and hugged him close with a laugh. “The only thing I mock, sweet brother, is how you have yet to realize how terrible you are at hiding things.”
Pepin squinted up at him in displeasure. This served to force another chuckle out of Aymerie until even Pepin found a giggle rising in his chest. Their display of brotherly affection was sweet and honest and even one of Pepin’s guards cracked a small frightening smile while the other rolled his eyes.
They came upon a balcony that looked down over the courtyard and Pepin instantly recognized Seffah standing with Rahman as their soldiers readied themselves. The warlord was one of the largest men down there but even without his formidable mass he drew the eye naturally. There was a magnetism in his grizzled appearance and the confidence in which he carried himself that kept Pepin’s eyes off the rest of the troops.
“I have seen how you looked at the older knights, Pepin,” Aymerie said quietly while he rested his hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “Maybe Lord Seffah actually is a brute, but he is also your key to freedom.”
Pepin pondered this as they turned back to the hallway. “Is it so wrong of me to be scared, Aymerie? For the first time in my life, I am going into something unknown and I don’t know how to feel.”
“We all feel scared when we face momentous occasions, Pepin. It is how we fail or succeed in such times that we find ourselves,” Aymerie stated with a sureness in his voice. “Be scared, Pepin, but don’t let it paralyze you.”
They came to the bottom of the stairs and looked towards the end of the hall where an archway led into the courtyard. Pepin took a shuddering breath as he gathered himself. He looked up to his older brother and held his hand tightly.
“Thank you for your words and your kindness, brother,” Pepin said warmly.
They began walking to the archway, all the while Aymerie held fast to Pepin. “Of course Pepin! Thank you for always having patience with your older siblings, even though some of us haven’t had the same.” He replied.
“Can you tell everyone something for me?” Pepin asked quietly.
“Yes, dear brother,” Aymerie murmured in return.
They were at the archway able to look out into the sun dappled courtyard where Pepin glanced meaningfully at Seffah as he was speaking with Rahman before looking back towards his brother.
“I don’t know where the travels with my… husband may take me,” Pepin spoke seriously in his gentle voice. “But I will forever hold all of you close to my heart. I will come back again someday, and I will not shame our family when I do. This I swear to you.”
Aymerie looked at his younger brother with his eyes suddenly tearing up. They both knew that fate could be cruel and if Pepin was to be a good wife, then he would submit to his husband. What chance did he have of ever returning home? Pepin himself knew of these thoughts, and he clung to his older brother’s hand as if he would be lost the moment he let go.
Placing a hand over his heart, Aymerie looked at his brother through glimmering eyes. “I swear on my mane and my honor as the third noble son of the house of Toulouse, Pepin, you could never shame our family.” His voice cracked for a moment and he swallowed hard. “When you come home, Cataline, myself, and the others, we will all welcome you back with open arms. We love you Pepin.”
Pepin quickly wrapped his short arms around his brother in a solid hug for just a moment. But a single moment was all they could afford because they both knew what came next. Aymerie felt Pepin’s hand slip from his own as he watched his little brother descend the last few stairs followed by his guards and approach the warlord and his men.
Rahman noticed the approaching prince first and motioned for Seffah to turn around. When he did he raised an eyebrow in surprise while he crossed his arms and took in the sight before him.
“I did not expect you to be so punctual,” Seffah said with his strong voice ringing across the courtyard. “Thought my men would have to drag you down here, if I’m honest.”
This ruffled the young man’s pride and he puffed his chest out a little. “I am not one to make my husband wait nor do I run away,” he stated emphatically.
That piqued Seffah’s interest and he approached his wife. Standing tall over him he challenged, “Husband? So you have accepted your part in this? Do you not have any curses for your god that you would be bound to one as old and ugly as I?”
In front of his soldiers and his generals he posed this question. Seffah knew this was a lot to take in but he had an inkling that this young man had more to him than the soft upbringing he had shown so far. Out of the corner of his crimson and yellow eyes he could see the royal family gathering at the balcony where Pepin had stopped earlier. Would they witness their precious jewel devolve into a blubbering mess and turn away or would they even care?
Pepin looked up at Seffah with intense concentration as he studied his face. He gathered his words thoughtfully and took his time though the seriousness in his eyes never left. Unexpectedly he reached up with his left hand and gently placed his palm against Seffah’s scarred face.
“I have accepted that we are bound in matrimony, yes, but I do not have need of curses,” Pepin spoke in a clear voice that rang out in the quiet sunshine. “I should instead be grateful for being blessed with such a handsome husband.”
There was a sincerity in his voice that caught Seffah off guard. This man was truly unlike any other who had been given to Seffah before. The warlord liked this.
“You’re a strange one, my bride,” Seffah stated bluntly before a wide smile full of incredibly sharp teeth split across his face. “Alright, time to head out.”
Rahman called across the soldiers and they began to mount up. The old general brought two horses towards Seffah and Pepin, one a pitch black stallion that stood proud and defiant with its muscles rippling with every step and the other was a gentle mare with a cream colored coat. Seffah took the reins for the beast that was as intimidating as its master and he looked over to Pepin as Rahman offered him the mare.
“For you, my princess,” Rahman said politely while Pepin stared at his hands with wide eyes and a creeping blush.
Pepin gingerly took the reins and stared dumbly at the kind horse next to him. Rahman cocked his head to the side and cast a look at Seffah with his eyepatch. Despite knowing the orb had long since been torn from his general’s head, Seffah knew exactly what kind of look he would be receiving had Rahman had his eye.
With a long suffering sigh Seffah let go of his horse and approached them. “Tell me, my wife, when did you last ride?” He asked in an exasperated tone.
Pepin began to play nervously with one of his long front braids. “I… have never ridden a horse before, much less one of such exquisite beauty.” He admitted shyly.
Seffah pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered their options. Of course the sheltered princess had never ridden a horse before, that would require conduct that the queen would have been against after all.That witch of a mother was probably laughing to herself expecting some sort of sneering display from Seffah. He put his hands on his hips and stood tall, certain of what would happen.
“We will have to teach you how to ride properly later,” Seffah stated matter-of-factly. “It will not stand that my wife cannot ride a horse. They are glorious creatures and their importance to my culture should be something you learn.”
Pepin nodded at that. “I would very much like to learn more, if you would teach me?”
That made the corner of Seffah’s mouth curl up in a tiny grin that could’ve been mistaken for a grimace. At least if not for the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled in genuine good spirits
“Well my lord? I can let the princess ride with me if it is your wish,” Rahman offered as he stepped up to Seffah’s side.
The mental image of Pepin being held tightly between another pair of muscular arms sent a searing pang of jealousy through his chest. He shook his head at that. Someone else holding his Pepin like that? Impossible.
“If there is a wagon available, I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind if we-HEY!!!” Pepin’s lighthearted voice rose into a startled shout as Seffah scooped him up with both hands around his waist as if he were a kitten. “W-w-what are you d-doing!?” Pepin nearly screamed while he held onto Seffah’s shoulders for dear life.
His reaction made Seffah let loose a deep rumbling chuckle as he set him upon his midnight steed. “Isn’t it obvious my wife? You will ride with me.”
Rahman turned away with a knowing smirk on his face and led Pepin’s mare towards his own horse. The lion clung to the massive creature’s neck as Seffah easily mounted up behind him. The warlord wrapped his right arm around Pepin and pulled him backwards till they were pressed together.
“Come now my princess, Storm is a fine steed. There is no reason to fear.” Seffah murmured softly as if he were calming the horse and not his wife. “You see? Within my arms nothing will harm you.”
Pepin’s breathing began to slowly return to a normal rhythm despite how he still tightly gripped Seffah’s forearm. He could feel the heat absolutely radiating from Seffah’s body as he was pressed against the enormous wall of muscles and it made him shiver unconsciously. His husband’s chest pressed against the back of his head like two slabs of solid stone when he flexed and moved in certain ways and then soft as downy pillows when he relaxed. This was what Aymerie was bothering him about and he just hoped his family couldn’t see how red his face was.
Seffah felt his bride’s claws initially dig into the scales on his arm before Pepin began to relax. He leaned closer against his wife and he could feel every pounding heartbeat as his lion slowly regained composure. The older lizard turned to face the royals on their balcony with an analytical glare. Would they even care that Pepin was gone?
“It will be some time before we may ever come this way again,” Seffah rumbled into Pepin’s ear. “Are you ready my wife?”
Pepin leaned backwards into his husband and felt him stiffen in surprise as the lion nestled himself closer still. He was still terrified of what his future might hold but there was a comfort that came from being in Seffah’s strong arms and smelling the sweat and natural scent of his body. It was enticing and dangerous and Pepin couldn’t bring himself to run away.
Besides, if he fled, Seffah was sure to demolish his home and everyone in it. Looking up at the balcony Pepin could see the tear stained faces of his sisters and the grim expressions of his brothers. It was only when Aymerie appeared up there and he gave Pepin a kindhearted smile that a flame ignited in his chest.
Pepin sat up straighter, still using Seffah to right himself, and he positively beamed as he waved farewell to his family. Even his oldest brothers could give him warm smiles as his siblings waved goodbye. Seeing the glacial countenance of his parents couldn’t even detract from Pepin’s feelings. He knew for certain that this must be done and yet he could not bring himself to hate it.
He craned his head back and upwards to look directly at Seffah. “Come what may, I am ready,” Pepin said with certainty.
“Then let us begin our travels and our life together,” Seffah sighed softly before gathering his voice, “WE RIDE!!!”
With a mighty yell from his gathered troops, they began to trot through the front gate. Pepin clung desperately to Seffah as they soon came to a full gallop and sped away from the only world the lion prince had ever known. It was terrifying. It was exciting. Pepin felt every ounce of his husband’s mass held against him and he felt a fire in him born of fear and exuberance.
The young prince may not have known what lay ahead, but he was thrilled to discover his fate. And thus, Pepin, the virgin prince, jewel of Toulouse, was wed to the Grand Warlord Seffah, and their story together began.