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There was a beautiful solace in the days Wind Archer could spend solely with Fire Spirit. They did not come often, as his duties kept his hands more than full, and so when they did come, they tasted much, much sweeter. Being a prince did not come easy, especially not as he grew older, and such a large part of him liked it that way— but he would never stop yearning for the light days of his youth, where he was free to frolic the castle grounds with his best friend as he pleased.
Today was a nice day, and a calm one, too. There were meetings going on that, for the first time in forever, he needn’t be a part of until later in the evening. The sun was shining, and the air smelt of a freshly bloomed and dewy spring, his favorite time of the entire year. But, the best of all the day’s bringings, was the man who walked by his side.
Fire Spirit was a tall, strong, and bright man. Everything about him was warm— he shone like the rays of the sun, lit Wind Archer up from the inside and turned his blood into molten gold. Wind Archer had only met one person who reminded him so incredibly of the golden sun, and it was him. He had chocolate brown eyes that matched chocolate brown curls. He was tanned and covered in beauty marks that dotted every area of his skin. Old books and stories said that they were places of worship from lovers in past lives, and Wind Archer would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a constant yearn and envy toward whoever was responsible for them. He often ached to press his lips to each one, to worship Fire Spirit the way he had been for eons past.
Often, he ached. What should a prince yearn for? If he is proper, nothing. A prince should not know of yearning, only of leading and serving his devoted subjects. But the devotion of his subjects could not compare to the devotion that was shared between him and his knight— and so, Wind Archer yearned and he ached, regardless of whether such a thing was a fit action for a prince.
Perhaps a prince could get away with such a thing if he was yearning for justice, or yearning for his princess. But Prince Wind Archer did not ache for a princess, and he did not idly yearn for justice but instead fought for it. So, ultimately, he could only be deemed improper for his wishing and his woes— for a prince should not be yearning for his knight.
“You are pleased with the way the flowers have bloomed, I hope?” Fire Spirit’s voice draws him away from his thoughts. He turned his glance to look over at the knight who walked beside him, to observe the crinkle of his eyes and the light of his grin, the gold sheer of his hardened skin and the way the light glimmered off his curls. The flowers were beautiful, but not quite as beautiful as he.
“Of course, my knight.” Wind Archer nods, smiling. “How could I not be? There is nothing better than the first blooms of spring, freshly alive and full of color after a long winter.”
Fire Spirit laughs, and though it is not melodious or song-like in the way music was, it still sounded like a harmony to Wind Archer. “That is rather funny coming from you, your highness.”
Wind Archer’s eyebrows raise, and he laughs, too. “Why, how so?” He asks with an amicable incredulousness.
“You have always said that there was nothing greater than your duties to your people,” Fire Spirit grins, bowing his head as his tone lifts with a teasing inflection. He dips his face closer to Wind Archer’s, as if they were sharing a secret. He smelt of the fresh grass, dewy moss, and fragrant metal of his suit of armor. It was all very pleasant. “Do you mean to say that that has been a lie, and you have thought that flowers were the greatest of all this entire time, my liege?”
My liege– while the title was the proper thing for any knight to refer to him as, it always felt different when it came from Fire Spirit. The words rested on his tongue in a way that was unlike and completely dissimilar to the way it sat on anyone else’s. He was not entirely sure on how to describe– he found words incredibly difficult sometimes. The best he could do was say that there was a certain possession in the ‘my’ that he fairly enjoyed, a certain connotation in the ‘liege’ that he didn’t quite understand but made him feel as though spring was occurring inside the walls of his belly and not in the world around him. All he can do is let his smile grow across his cheeks.
“Of course this is not the case,” Wind Archer says, gaze falling to his feet as he shakes his head. “Though I see that that is indeed what I said. Do not take my recent words so seriously. Of course my duty to my kingdom is and will always be greatest to me.”
“Yes,” Fire Spirit sighs, and Wind Archer does not know why he is sighing. “I know, my liege. Trust that I always know where your ambitions and duties lie.”
“If not you, then who?” Wind Archer says, looking back up at Fire Spirit, who in turn lifts his gaze to meet his own once more. He lets his smile soften, to try and describe the gentle fondness he felt so riddled with. “If I cannot trust you to know the foundations of my being, then let it be known I have found myself lost and incapable of being saved.”
“And what do you mean by this, your highness?” Fire Spirit says with a cocked brow, tilting his head in an inquiry. The feather of his helmet tosses itself to the side. There was a saucy and malapert glint to his large brown eyes, though, and Wind Archer knew he understood but was silently begging to hear Wind Archer speak more of his affections.
“I do not believe there is another who is capable of knowing me the way that you do, my knight,” Wind Archer says, tilting his own head to match the playful tilt of his peer. “If thou art not here to understand me, then I deem it all hopeless– as nobody else ever shall.”
Fire Spirit stares at him, intensely as he does– he had such a way of looking that Wind Archer had never seen in other people. It was the way his eyes sat in his face, surely.. Large and brown and full of a burning fire, surrounded by high cheekbones, battle scars, and chiseled features. It had a sort of dizzying effect on the prince, and so it took effort to stand still and hold his ground as Fire Spirit stared. It did not take long, though, before he laughed shortly under his breath and turned his gaze away from Wind Archer, moving to hop upon the stone wall. He skips once across the stone before reaching his hand to graze across a tree branch. “And yet,” He says simply.
“And yet?” Wind Archer questions, staying in place as he watches the man traipse the wall of the castle garden.
“You must think very highly of me,” Fire Spirit says, at first ignoring Wind Archer’s request for clarity. He turns back and picks a flower off a tree, holding it between his ironclad fingertips, before hopping off the wall and returning back to Wind Archer. “May I?”
“You may,” Wind Archer nods, and Fire Spirit reaches over to tuck the flower behind his ear, nestling underneath the edge of his crown. His fingers linger for just a moment, cool against his bare cheek, before they retract. Once he is done with the flower, Wind Archer continues. “Yes, I do. I’ve known thee my whole life, haven’t I? You have been my sole companion since we were very young. How couldst I not think highly of you when you have demonstrated your complete and utter loyalty and devotion to me at every possible occasion?”
“And yet,” Fire Spirit says, again without any further explanation.
“You say it once more,” Wind Archer says, furrowing his brows. “Tell me at once what you are trying to say.”
“Is that an order, my liege?” Fire Spirit says, and Wind Archer watches as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards in a haughty smirk. Wind Archer wishes to kiss it off of him, to kiss him silly for his slight defiance, but he swallows back the yearning and tries his best to remain strong in his ground.
“Yes,” Wind Archer says, lifting his chin. “I am your prince, and I am asking you to tell me at once what you mean.”
“My great prince, I suppose I should say?” Fire Spirit says cheekily. Wind Archer struggles to resist the urge to laugh. “My great and noble prince, for whom I am eternally devoted?”
“Yes!” Wind Archer says, and his amusement betrays itself through his voice, tainted with the presence of a joyful smile. A breeze blows by and tosses a few flower petals between the two of them. One of them lands in Fire Spirit’s curls, and he chooses not to mention the pretty addition. “You mustn't forget who you’re talking to, my incredibly-saucy sir. I can still have you placed in the dungeons with those you have valiantly fought to have locked there.”
“And now thee threatens me with thy dungeons..” Fire Spirit laughs. “What would woeful Narcissus say if he saw your vain behavior, my liege?”
“If he was real and not a myth, I am sure he would see no kinship between us.” Wind Archer rolls his eyes. “This shall be the third time that I have asked you and you have avoided my question!”
Fire Spirit lets out a sigh from his nostrils before he slowly sinks to his knees. Not to one, in the proper kneel of a knight, but to both. He brings his hands forward, sitting them on Wind Archer’s hips, and up he turns his gaze, looking up at Wind Archer through his lashes. There, again, came a devious use of his eyes, one Wind Archer was sure Fire Spirit was not sure of– from such an angle, his eyes were pleading and sparkling with the submission of only the most loyal devotee. Wind Archer feels his breath skirt out from his grasp and leave his lungs.
With his beautiful eyes that shone as if they were spun in a dark caramel of the burning sun’s sugar, and a husky and earnest tone of an unintentionally seductive gravel, he finally sought to continue his words from his place on his knees.
“You know that there is nothing in my life that I care about more than thee,” Fire Spirit says, eyes not leaving Wind Archer’s gaze, locked there intently. “I have spent my entire life devoted to you with my entire being. I would sacrifice anything if it meant the protection of you, my lord. I am your most faithful servant and your most adoring. You are right when you say that there is not anyone who will understand you in the ways in which of I. There is also not another knight or subject who will be more devoted than me.” He stops, and momentarily presses his head to the vulnerable softness of Wind Archer’s belly. “You are the sun in which I rise from and the altar in which I pray to. You are my East and my West, my North star in the sky. You are the meaning of the runes inscribed on every sacred text.”
Wind Archer was left stunned at his admission. Though it was not uncommon for Fire Spirit to profess his undying devotion, the context of the position in which he sat and the depth of his words left the prince confounded. Wind Archer knew how he had taken his words– with the desperate hopes that Fire Spirit meant his words with the same meaning as one would have when speaking to their lover; surely, what he said fit the part. But Fire Spirit could not ever mean anything in such a way in a thousand eons, and was just a devoted knight– simply, it was his job to be devotional. With parted lips and flushed cheeks, Wind Archer says, “I fear what you will say next.”
His hands automatically fall to cup the sides of Fire Spirit’s head, dipping his fingers into the softness of the curls that were not held captive by the helmet. Fire Spirit looks back up at him, imploring with a purse of his brows, before he lets out a soft scoff.
“I have proven by devotion to thee time and time again,” Fire Spirit says, leaning his cheek into Wind Archer’s touch, keening. “I have slain and protected, and stood by your side longer than anyone else. And yet,” Finally, a repeat of what he had said over and over, finally pregnant enough for Wind Archer to know the answer was upon his soft lips. “You do not trust me to allow me to rule beside you. How is it so that you keep me just as your knight when there is much more I could be doing in the name of you, who is so great and holy and fair?”
Fair, Wind Archer breathes. The words were like a prayer coming out of his mouth. As if Wind Archer was truly something holy, something worthy of such righteous devotion, and not merely just a prince. He rubs his thumb gently across Fire Spirit’s cheek, listening to the sound of the relaxed sigh the touch elicits.
“So that is what this is about,” Wind Archer says softly. He brings a hand down to Fire Spirit’s chin, tilting his head up. He was completely pliable in his hands, more than willing to be moved in however such way Wind Archer pleased. “My knight, you know thee are the only one worthy of sitting at my feet.”
Fire Spirit shuts his eyes momentarily, letting out a slow breath through his mouth, before he opens his eyes once more and brings a hand to hold onto Wind Archer’s wrist. The metal rests atop the sleeve of his tunic undershirt, not yet touching skin. “Yes,” He breathes, eyebrows furrowing once more, emphasizing the submission in his eyes. “I know this.”
“Do you mean to say you are not content with this?” Wind Archer asks. “This is not a question meant to fool you– I merely want to know if this life makes you unhappy.”
Fire Spirit stops, and his mouth closes and curves into a frown. His eyes skirt elsewhere, and Wind Archer tilts his chin up once more, a silent and gentle demand to keep his eyes on him. Fire Spirit immediately returns his gaze sheepishly. “I… admit that, while I would give my life a thousand times just for the grace of lying at your feet, my lord, I do … wish for more.”
“More,” Wind Archer says, thinking. “I did not know that you were not satisfied.”
“My liege!” Fire Spirit says hastily. “That is not what I meant.”
“And what did you mean?” Wind Archer says. “For that is what I have interpreted from thy words. It is all right,” Wind Archer nods. “I am not upset with you. I simply didn’t know that you wished to rule beside me beyond joyous childhood fantasies.”
“That’s–” Fire Spirit starts, but he cuts himself off, and so Wind Archer continues.
“But you know such a thing cannot be so,” Wind Archer says gently. “Though a life where my dearest friend could rule by my side would be great beyond my wildest dreamings.”
“You think I am unfit,” Fire Spirit says, clearly hurt by Wind Archer’s words, even as he tried to be gentle. Wind Archer knew he had an issue with the way he spoke, and was unsure of how to remedy such a thing. “You think I am unfit to rule and are trying to make me feel better.”
“Well,” Wind Archer starts with a smile. “You are rather impulsive. You are quick to fight and very hot-headed.”
“You are not helping, your highness.” Fire Spirit grumbles.
“Perhaps if you let me finish,” Wind Archer tuts. “While you are all of these things, thy loyalty is also unmatched. You are strong and dependable. At least,” Wind Archer starts, thinking of how often, when given a task unrelated to the prince, Fire Spirit often under-performed or did not perform at all. “When it comes to me.”
“So why do you keep me as just your knight, my Prince?” Fire Spirit pleads, moving his hands back to wrap around Wind Archer’s hips.
“Because you know it must be that way,” Wind Archer sighs, trying not to show his sadness. “You are my knight. It is not in the way of the kingdom for a prince to simply take on another as a ruler. You know this.”
“You are the prince,” Fire Spirit says quietly. “The kingdom shall be however you wish it to be.”
“It is not that easy, my sweet.” Wind Archer says softly, tracing his hands along Fire Spirit’s soft cheeks once more. He watches as his knight’s gaze softens at the nickname, and Wind Archer feels himself melt inside. “Let it be known that I think your strengths lie in that of your knightly duties. Thou are more fit to wield thy blade than anyone else.” He watches as Fire Spirit happily keens at the praise. “But if it is so that you wish for more, such as the role of a royal advisor, I will do all that I can to make this happen for you.”
“An advisor?” Fire Spirit questions. His nose wrinkles slightly, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. The wrinkle of his skin hides some of his sun-splotched freckles. “How… confining of a role.”
I do not understand what he’s asking of me, Wind Archer frowns. And I do not think that he is going to explain.
“Not an advisor, then.” Wind Archer says. He drops his hands from Fire Spirit’s face and takes a step back. “Would you like to pretend with me?”
“Pretend?” Fire Spirit questions, looking disappointed at the loss of Wind Archer’s touch.
“Yes,” Wind Archer says. “Your sword.” He says, displaying his palms in front of him. Fire Spirit obeys, taking the sword from his holster and placing it gently in Wind Archer’s hands. He goes to stand, but Wind Archer says, “Stay where you lie.” Fire Spirit immediately rests back on his knees, looking up at Wind Archer in confusion. “Well? Do you wish to pretend with me, as we used to do when we were young?”
“If that is what you wish,” Fire Spirit nods. He lifts one of his knees to sit in a proper kneeling position, resting one of his arms atop.
“Let us pretend,” Wind Archer says, and he has to think for a moment on what he is going to pretend about. “Let us pretend, then, that you shall be a ruler by my side. You will have to trust me.”
“I do,” Fire Spirit says incredulously, offended. “My lord, how could you think I do not?”
“You trust me the way you have seen me,” Wind Archer says, and he moves the sword to lay in his right hand, properly wielding it. He tests out the way the weight feels in the grip of his fingers, lifting it slightly. “You may not trust me as your equal.”
“I will trust you no matter the situation,” Fire Spirit says, and he seems to be getting a bit angry. Wind Archer grins.
“If you say it is so, then we shall test it. Tell me just how deep your trust goes when I do this.” Wind Archer raises the sword slightly and says, “Lift your chin.” Fire Spirit obeys, and Wind Archer moves the sharp blade of the sword to rest underneath Fire Spirit’s chin, gently guiding it upward. He watches as Fire Spirit’s eyes widen and he swallows. Wind Archer holds his breath, sitting there in a position of such power, watching as several emotions flit behind Fire Spirit’s brown eyes, noting how not a single one of them ever seems to land quite on fear.
“You are vulnerable,” Wind Archer says. “I could slit thy throat. One wrong move, and you could do it yourself.”
“You would not,” Fire Spirit says firmly. “You could not even dream of such a thing.”
“And yet,” Wind Archer says, repeating the verbiage from earlier. “I stand here with a blade against your throat. You are trusting me. Why?”
“I do not know who I am if I am not someone who trusts you,” Fire Spirit says quietly, carefully as his throat moves around the blade, careful not to move too much and cut himself.
Wind Archer swallows this and takes it in stride. He lifts the blade slightly more, tilting Fire Spirit’s chin farther upwards. “Look at me.”
“I am looking,” Fire Spirit says, clearly irritated by Wind Archer’s behavior. “I am looking, and I am trusting, and I am not understanding what we are pretending, nor how this relates to what I have said. You stand here, blade against my throat, and I am willing. If you were to drag it across my skin I would let you. I would let you do whatever you wish, my lord. And so, I do not understand what it is we are ‘pretending’. I am still on my knees, and you are still above me.”
Wind Archer swallows this, too, and thinks about his words. They rest on him heavily, lay on his shoulders and over his heart. He feels the sinking weight press onto his ribcage, crushing his lungs and the sturdy bones that kept him protected. He supposed he, too, did not quite understand the point of his own exercise, nor why he had done it at all.
“And do you enjoy it, my sweet?” Wind Archer says, genuinely asking. “Do you enjoy the devotion? Do you enjoy sitting at my feet?”
“What?” Fire Spirit says, and he jerks his head away from the blade. “Why do you ask me such questions in such a tone?”
Wind Archer had not realized he had a tone of any sort. Quickly, he says, “I only mean to say that, as long as you blindly trust me so dearly, as long as you take pride in your unwavering devotion, then– then you are my knight, and that is how it all must be.”
“You said that I must trust you.” Fire Spirit says, angrily furrowing his brows. “I am not doing it blind.”
“I fear–” Wind Archer says, sighing and looking away. “I fear I have upset you with my lack of clarity. Come,” Wind Archer says, lowering the sword and bringing it closer to Fire Spirit. “Sheath your sword. Sheath your sword once more, for I am most fond of you when you are simply you, and not the length of your blade. Stand, stand and look me in the eye, come back to my level, dearest. And forgive me for my mistakes.”
Fire Spirit sighs and takes his sword, sheathing it once more. He stands slowly, before stepping closer, once again invading Wind Archer’s space. “I am not going to pretend that I have just understood any of what has recently occurred,” Fire Spirit says. “But that is to say I am not going to pretend I do not also forgive you.”
Wind Archer didn’t quite have an explanation for why he put a blade to Fire Spirit’s throat, either, and so he did not try to come up with one. “My gratitude is eternal.”
Fire Spirit stares at him, expression sorrowful. His hands come up to take Wind Archer’s hands, bringing them up to press his lips to. Wind Archer smiles, shakily accepting the act of worship, watching as Fire Spirit’s eyes flutter shut as his lips stay strong against the back of his hand, before he lifts his face once more.
“I must ask your forgiveness as well, my liege,” Fire Spirit says, and his eyes look down at his feet, in the bashful way he got when apologizing, something Wind Archer knew was very hard for him. “I did not mean to share my most regretful desires. Please do not think of them anymore beyond this moment. They were meant to stay with I, and I alone.”
“Thy thoughts are always welcome with me,” Wind Archer says. “Even if thou thinks not.”
“No,” Fire Spirit shakes his head. “Not all of them. A prince shan't be concerned with the lowly wallows of his knight.”
“But his dear friend can be,” Wind Archer smiles, turning his hands over to cup Fire Spirit’s face once more.
“Dear friend,” Fire Spirit sighs, and the sadness in his expression seems to peak before it all washes away, leaving nothing but a wide and bright smile on Fire Spirit’s cheeks. “Yes. My dear friend, whom I am eternally devoted to.”
Wind Archer opens his mouth to speak more, not even sure what he plans on saying but eager to try and say something– but before anything can come to be, he feels the gentle fall of spring rain upon his head. He looks up to see rain falling from the sky with surprise. “Oh! How wonderful.”
“No!” Fire Spirit grumbles. “Not wonderful! My armor will rust.”
Wind Archer giggles, and he watches as Fire Spirit turns to him with that same bright smile. “Why, of course. Then, I suppose there is nothing else to do but to see who shall make it inside the castle first.”
Fire Spirit grins, and because he harboured ever the competitive streak, Wind Archer fondly watches as he immediately accepts the challenge. “But, my lord, you shall be so sourly disappointed when I make it inside before you. I am sure that a prince losing to his knight is not a good look.”
“And that is why I shall not look it,” Wind Archer says, before turning and bolting off toward the castle.
“Whah–!” Fire Spirit shouts, and as Wind Archer hears the familiar booming clank of his armor taking off running, he can’t help but bubble with laughter. They run all the way back to the castle, until Fire Spirit caught up with him, grabbing him and lifting him off his feet, spinning them both around as they shared in laughter.
There was certainly much beauty in the days Wind Archer got to share with his dearest friend and his most devoted knight. While he may never get back the simple joy of childhood, of spending all day frolicing and dancing playfully through the hills and fields of the castle grounds, he had what was given to him in the present– and perhaps, despite the yearning so powerful that it almost hindered him, that was enough. For Prince Wind Archer, that would be enough.