Chapter Text
The boy laid on his stomach, chin resting in both hands as he stared, the beginning of a smile tugging at the corner of his face. Lush, silk sheets spread out in bronze and silver beneath him. A canopy of the same colors reached above, blossoming from the wooden pillars of the four-poster. The room almost seemed to shine as the dawn’s sunlight peered into the room as it ventured over the horizon, welcoming the room’s lone resident even before he had been woken by the man who now stood before him.
He seemed to consider the man with a scrutinous eye, though the man's brilliant purple-and-silver uniform was pristine, and his weapons - as per usual - were at the ready. The boy, meanwhile, had simple monotone pajamas in the same violet shade, and from a single glance between the two it was easy to tell exactly who was in charge.
“You know,” the man said, thick eyebrows pressed together and blue-green eyes locked on the boy. “If we didn’t go through this stare-down every morning, you wouldn’t have to rush through getting dressed.”
“If you got here earlier, we’d have more time.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “If I got here earlier, you’d have less time to sleep.”
“And so the cycle continues.” The boy rolled over, further ruffling the unkempt sheets. He fiddled with his long blond hair for a moment as it settled under him, spreading it out to each side as he now lay on his back. He continued to stare at the man, this time expectantly.
“The Princess should be arriving within the next hour or so, and you’ll be meeting with her until lunch. Then a break until the supper with her men.” He gestured to the door, more impatiently this time. “Now, if you don’t get started soon, you’ll have to miss breakfast.”
“Ugh, fine.” He rolled again, nearly falling off the bed before easily catching himself and landing lightly on the plush carpet. “What’s for breakfast?” Before the man had the chance to answer, the boy ducked into the closet.
The man adjusted his stance, and spoke loud enough that he was sure his voice could be heard - clearly - from within the depths of the closet. “The usual, though we do have some of the Princess’ supplies arriving with her, if you’d like to try something special for lunch.”
“I don’t know how their shrimp tastes so good compared to ours but damn would I love to know why,” the blond mumbled as he slid his sash over his head and reached for a strip of cloth, tying it around his waist with practiced ease. “I’m looking forward to dinner the most. You know breakfast foods aren’t my thing. Hardly have time to eat, anyway.”
“This would go faster if you had someone dress you in the morning, Zal,” the man remarked.
The boy rolled his eyes. “I like having some autonomy in my life, Captain. You of all people should know that.”
“Of course I do.” He made a noise of irritation as Zal stepped from the closet, looking him sharply up and down. “Your hair will have to be done at breakfast. If you’d only keep it short it wouldn’t - “
“Who needs a court advisor when you can have the captain of the guard do that and so much more?” Zal grinned up at him. With a lazy wave of his hand, he gestured onward. “After you, Horaven.”
Horaven’s expression seemed torn between a smile and a glare as he stepped forward, pushing the double doors open just wide enough to let the two of them through. As his charge followed close behind him, he signaled to one guard, who promptly took off down the hall. “Considering how the last advisor turned out, I’d rather run double-duty than have to deal with that kind of mess again.”
“Speaking of which, finally got more room in your schedule for another lesson?” Zal’s smile widened as he adjusted his gloves. “Maybe have the other captain split the work. Or even bring him along for it. Dinner and a show.”
Horaven stared ahead, marching along indifferently, but nevertheless matching his stride to the smaller man alongside. “I’d rather not.”
Together the duo made quite a pair, Horaven towering over Zal by a considerable margin. Zal’s robes, despite shining the same shades of purple and silver as his companion’s armor, managed to somehow stand out more strikingly. The only thing to contrast their colors was the red stone that hung around the boy’s neck on a silver pendant. He absentmindedly ran a gloved hand along it before he realized what he was doing and stopped with a scowl.
It was only a short walk down the hall and traversing a spiraling set of stairs before they emerged into the last corridor of their journey. The Captain shifted into a more formal gait as they approached the next closed pair of wooden doors, flanked by twin royal guards. Their armor seemed a dulled version of Horaven’s, and thinner compared to his large build.
The guards saluted sharply, then stepped in with near-perfect synchronicity and grasped the doors’ golden handles. The pulled them open, and together, Horaven and Zal entered the lavishly furnished space.
“You’re going to eat now,” the blond remarked as he wandered his way to his place at the head of the table. Horaven looked momentarily as though he was going to object, only for his younger companion to continue: “We both know you’re not going to have a break for the rest of the day. Eat.”
The Captain frowned, and yet dutifully marched over and slid into the chair beside his charge.
A few others sat at various places around the table, though it was largely unpopulated - Zal’s eyes drifted to the chefs on the afternoon shift fervently discussing something at the other end, and then the pair of gossiping maids sitting beside them. A servant stepped up and placed a silver tray before him, drawing the lid away to reveal his still-smoking breakfast.
As something caught out of the corner of Zal’s vision, he abruptly turned sideways in his seat. His legs draped over one arm of the chair, and his back rested against the other. “Morning, Moren.”
“Morning, Zal.” Almost immediately Moren knelt beside him, brush in his right hand and comb in his left. A dozen other articles hung from his belt - keys, scissors, bags, and more besides - but otherwise he was dressed rather primly. He began running the brush through Zal’s long, blond hair. There were a few sharp tugs before the brush began to glide easily through it and Moren saw it fit to talk. “Big day, huh.”
“Mhm.” With his right hand, Zal speared a piece of chicken. “You hear a lot of things. Before I meet with her later, what do you know about… the Princess?”
“The Princess, eh?” Zal could hear the smile in Moren’s tone. “What is there to know? Eyes of gold, hair of silver, kinder than her father and more beautiful than her mother. The group she’s bringing is quite a cast.”
“I could say it sounds fun, but that’s not even an earnest lie.”
Moren chuckled quietly. “Same could be said about you, Zal. Kinder than the King…”
“That’s hardly an accomplishment.” He ran his free hand over the pendant again. “Everyone was simultaneously kinder and more of an ass than the King, and I am no different.” He popped another piece of chicken into his mouth as his hairdresser, very carefully, began to braid his hair. “Hair of straw, eyes of burnt grass.”
“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. And it’s a lovely grass.” Another minute of silence, then Moren stood. He tossed the end of the braid over Zal’s shoulder. “There, done. You’re going to have to do it yourself for the next while, though. Having breakfast with the Princess’ company, I hear.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He turned to sit properly in the chair, placing his head on his spare hand as he looked up at Moren. “Maybe come by and do it before breakfast instead?”
“I swear, I’m the only one in the kingdom who can keep up with that rat’s nest.” Moren smiled at Zal as he pulled a face. “Depends how early. I can’t exactly chase you down the hall doing it.”
“So you say .”
“Speaking of which,” Horaven stood up beside him, plate barely half-cleared. “We have to get going. She’ll be arriving any minute.”
“Great.” As Zal rose from his seat, the entire room fell into a sudden silence. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, if only for a moment, before they resumed their worried whispering. Horaven once more lead the way, and together the two exited the dining hall.
Their journey was silent as they traversed the castle’s corridors. The Captain’s shoulders were stiff, posture rigid, while Zal simply kept his gaze ahead as though he did not notice. His own stride somehow matched Horaven’s, moving beside him with calm composure.
The guests were already waiting as they entered the main hall, servants bustling to and fro behind them as they gathered up supplies from outside and carried them about. Together a simple trio of characters waited in the center of the room, gazes finally shifting to Zal as he approached.
The two groups stood-face-to-face, Horaven patiently waiting on Zal’s left as he bowed shortly before the woman. He wasted no time in introducing himself. “Greetings, Your Highness. I am Prince Zalvetta of Onorhant. Welcome to the kingdom.”
The Princess dressed simply, especially compared to her companions - a vest over viridian shirt, a pair of pants, and nearly knee-high hiking boots, of all things. True to Moren’s word, her hair was so platinum a blonde it was almost white, and her eyes shone with the distinct golden sheen of her bloodline. She mirrored the Prince, voice holding the thinnest accent. “Likewise, Your Highness. I am Princess Aesling, of Meathe. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
She gestured to her right, and the man spoke up. The visor was lifted from his face, no doubt a sign of respect. His attire gave away his rank - brown, green and gold, a style shaped similar to Horaven’s - but his age was clear in his eyes. Strangely, he seemed no older than Zal. “I’m Gregor Hartway, captain of the guard.”
Then the blond on her left, bright blue eyes and in simple suit and silver jewelry; “Markus Velafi, court advisor.”
“Horaven,” Zal raised his head some. “You two may go discuss security for our guests’ stay, then check on the supplies. And supper.”
“Yessir.” As Horaven gestured Gregor aside, a second woman seemed to materialize from behind him. Stepping into the gap he had left, she nodded her head slightly but otherwise did not appear keen to speak. A pointed hat covered most of her nearly-black hair, skin almost the same darkened tone as the Meathian Captain. Her robes, satchel and hat were all various shades of blue, some spots worn by almost-but-not-quite washed-out stains.
“This is Inien, she serves as the court…” Aesling trailed off, seeming as though she were suppressing a laugh. “Witch.”
Inien tilted her head, mouth pressed into a hard line and simply glared.
“So, Princess.” Zal grinned slightly and gestured back the way he and the Captain had come with one hand. “Let’s drop the formalities and go get this trade arrangement over with.”
After a small look of surprise, she grinned back, a tenseness in her shoulders Zal hadn’t noticed before quickly fading. “Sure.” She took a deep breath, and in that instant seemed to collect herself. “Call me Ashe, by the way.”
“Alright, Ashe.” The Prince signaled to one servant, who came bustling over. “If there’s anything I can do for you while you’re staying here, let me know. Let this be a wonderful holiday for you all in Onorhant.”
He smiled and, though a spark of trickery seemed to hide just beneath the surface, somehow, all in all, it was as sincere as any other.