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The Astrian Palace — Guest Room, 1721

It was early morning in Astria. Pale light filtered in through the sheer curtains of a guest room in the palace, the only source of light in the entire room. While the guest quarters were rather sparsely furnished compared to the rest of the lavish palace, they were still fully decorated with silver ornaments and fancy wallpaper.

The bedsheets were white and silky, and so was the blanket. In the soft light of morning, the lines of fabric were blended softly into one another, so that it looked just like a huge lump on the bed. On the nightstand, there was a lamp, but it was cold and unlit.

Beside the lamp, there was a bouquet of white lilies. They had been picked a couple days ago, and were wilting, forgotten. A few petals were scattered across the carpet, and also on the bed.

Amongst all the white in the room, the young man in a black shirt and trousers stood out in stark contrast. His raven hair fell messily over his eyes, which were closed. He had his arms in a folded position on the edge of the bed, supporting his head as he lay there in a rather uncomfortable position, half-seated on a small chair, passed out from exhaustion.

There was also another figure lying on the bed.

His eyes were closed, and from a distance he also appeared to be asleep. His long, red hair spread across the white pillow, completely free of any knots or tangles.

But no breath passed from his slightly parted lips, and there was no rise or fall to his chest. He laid there, still and beautiful, but utterly devoid of life.

The blanket covered up to his middle, leaving his torso exposed. Every minor cut or scratch was hidden by a bandage, and he would have appeared to be just another recovering patient after the fight that broke out during the royal wedding ceremony a few days ago, if not for the sheer amount of flowers everywhere.

On the bed, there were splashes of color. The light blue of small forget-me-nots, the soft pink of carnations, and the bold red of spider lilies spilled across the sheets and dotted the carpet around the bed. A delicate, floral fragrance filled the entire room.

And on the young man himself, there were even more blooms. Red poppies, falling out of the loose flower crown, adorned his head. Roses, white ones, lined the sheets, with a single red rose over his still, unmoving heart.

It didn’t take much to guess who had picked all these flowers; it had to be the sleeping man in the chair. His shoulders rose and fell a little bit with each breath. In his hand, he limply held a few bleeding hearts.

In Astria, spring had barely arrived. The first thaws just began, and to find so many of these summer-blooming flowers was no easy feat.

There was a soft knock on the door, and the sleeping raven-haired man stirred, blinking awake. His irises were a sharp, almost unnatural shade of bright ruby red, and he yawned, rubbing them, before glancing at the door without saying anything.

The door opened, letting in a light breeze that ruffled the fallen petals on the carpet.

“Sir,” said the servant who stood there, his eyes wide, simply astonished at the state of the guest room. “The ceremony is today.”

“I said I wouldn’t be attending,” the raven-haired man sat a little taller.

“Ah, they know that already,” the servant said nervously. After all, Vesteria was in power again now, and he was standing before the kingdom’s General himself.

“Then why are you here?”

“W-well, they sent me to… uh…” the servant didn’t know how to word this. He shook his head. “You’re not the only one in this room—”

“He is not attending either,” the raven-haired man said pointedly. “Does he look like he can?”

“R-right, sir!” the servant stuttered. “But sir, it’s been days—”

“My duties as General don’t begin until next week. I intend to keep him company until then.”

The servant nodded. The general sighed.

“You may go,” he said with a wave of his hand. The servant seemed more than happy to get out of there, and he did so without looking back.

After the door shut and the last mote of dust settled down, the raven-haired general looked back at the one lying on the bed of flowers.

He could almost hear his voice, the memory of it fresh in his mind.

“Aw, don’t look like that, Cho! I’m gonna be fine!”

Chosen buried his head in his hands, not even trying to stop the tears that escaped.

His voice was raspy from unuse when he spoke.

“I wish you were right this time too, Dark.”

The Vesterian Palace - Training Grounds, 1702

“Aw, I’m just fine on my own!”

“No, son. It’s time you did real sparring with someone else your age.”

The raven-haired twelve year old pouted up at his father, one of Vesteria’s two honored generals. He liked practicing on his own. Their estate had its own training grounds, and plenty of servants who could spar with the boy. He had been excited when his father called him inside, hoping they might go on another hunting trip in the nearby woods.

But instead, the general had suggested they go to the palace training grounds. Where there would be other people. Other people Chosen’s age. And he wasn’t very fond of that idea.

“Why, dad?” Chosen continued to grumble. “You know I don’t like meeting new people.”

“You’ll have to get over that then, son.” His father replied. “I can’t have the future general of Vesteria scared of meeting a few new kids.”

Chosen whined but he knew his father had a point.

The palace approached in the distance. Since it was just the two of them, they rode there on their horses instead of taking a carriage like they usually did when they went to the palace. Chosen mentally went over all the kids his age he had heard the servants talking about that might be here at the palace.

No names came to mind.

“Dad, are there even kids my age here?” Chosen slouched a bit on his horse.

“Sit up, son. And yes. The other general’s son is only half a year younger than you—”

Chosen felt panic bubbling up in his throat. Oh no. Not that kid. 

They had never met before, and Chosen was glad. Somehow, out of all the times his father brought him over to his fellow general’s house for tea, or for battle plans, or for whatever other thing, he had never met the other man’s son. But the servants and other friends he knew talked plenty about him.

Dark.

From what he could gather, Dark was simply insane.

No, he wasn’t insane in a mad way. The servants had said he was quite a smart boy. He was intelligent, and smart, and knew how to read and write. That only made it worse for Chosen.

In his panicked mind, Chosen went through all the things he’d heard about this kid.

Sets fires for fun.

Never felt guilty when he got in trouble.

A little liar.

Tortures the animals—

Thief.

Chosen swallowed.

“Father, are you sure we’ll get along?”

“Chosen, he’s just another kid. He’s even younger than you,” his father sighed. They arrived at the stables and Chosen reluctantly dismounted. He was really dreading the next few hours. “You’ll be fine, son.”

Chosen wanted to scream that he was not, in fact, going to be “fine.” What if this kid actually stabs him during their sparring session? It sounded like something he would do.

And they haven’t even met yet. Chosen would be fine if they never met, actually. He didn’t want anything to do with this crazy boy.

The general accompanied his son to the training grounds, where his comrade and the other boy were waiting. Chosen took in the sight of Dark. He had messy red hair that stuck out at odd angles and went down to about his shoulders, and he was a little bit shorter than Chosen, but he was definitely larger and stockier in his build. 

Dark caught Chosen looking at him and gave him a smile. Maybe it was supposed to be a nice smile, but all it did was show off his oddly sharp teeth. Chosen had never seen fangs like that on any normal human being, much less on a child his age. He offered an awkward half-smile back (it was more of a grimace) and hoped he didn’t look too scared.

Their fathers were laughing and chatting like the old friends they were. Chosen tried to distract himself by putting on his training gear and taking a little too long to pick out one of the wooden swords.

“Do you need help with that?”

Chosen flinched so hard he crashed into the rack where all the wooden swords were hanging, and then fell onto his bottom with an undignified noise.

Dark stared at him with his grey eyes for a solid two seconds before bursting into bright, unbridled laughter.

“Cursors, I didn’t take ‘Chosen’ himself to be such a scaredy cat!” he cackled. 

Chosen felt an embarrassed flush rise to his cheeks. “I’m not!” he argued indignantly.

Dark kept guffawing at him. Chosen glared at him.

When the other boy finally stopped laughing, he wiped a tear from his eye, still giggling a little bit. “I haven’t laughed so hard in forever. I guess that means you really are something special.”

Chosen wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, and free him of this utter ridicule.

“Quiet down, and no, I don’t need help with anything,” Chosen mumbled, picking himself up from the dirt floor and dusting off his trousers. Dark offered him a hand and he smacked it away.

“Ouchie, rude,” Dark fake-pouted, holding his hand gingerly as if it was actually wounded. Chosen rolled his eyes.

He reached to grab a wooden sword. Maybe he’d just spar and get this over with, but at the same time, he was incredibly terrified of actually sparring with the other boy. Dark wouldn’t hurt him by accident, probably, since Chosen could assume he was decent at sparring. He would probably hurt Chosen for fun, and that was the actual scary part.

“Uh, wait,” Dark said, coming way too close for Chosen’s comfort and buckling the leather strap of his arm guard. Chosen blinked. Right, that’s what he had been doing when Dark startled him.

“Thanks,” Chosen grumbled, “But I could’ve done it myself.”

“You looked a bit too spooked,” Dark teased, and Chosen resisted the urge to bonk him over the head with his wooden sword.

“Yeah, whatever,” Chosen grabbed another sword and shoved it at the other boy. “Come on, let’s just… spar, or something.”

Dark took the sword and glanced at their fathers before he and Chosen walked towards the middle of the sandy training pit. They got in their stances facing each other.

“You go first,” Dark said with a small motion. “I’m bad at opening.”

Chosen was slightly taken aback. In fact, he was rather surprised this kid hadn’t attacked him first.

“Um, sure.” Chosen replied  awkwardly, going for a basic jab at Dark’s shoulder. A predictable move, and an invitation to keep the match friendly. Dark dodged and followed up with a low slice that Chosen blocked with his blade.

Chosen kept his moves simple, trying to assess the other boy’s sparring abilities. Dark was decent, if not a little out of practice.

Not every boy practiced all day, every day, like Chosen did.

“These are all easy,” Dark complained. “Are you going easy on me?”

“Yes,” Chosen said bluntly.

“Aw, why?” Dark aimed a jab up at his stomach, but Chosen blocked the attack and retaliated with a stab of his own.

“Because if I didn’t, you’d lose in the next minute.”

“Seriously?”

Chosen smirked. “Need me to prove it?”

“Yeah, I don’t believe— ah!” Dark made a rather undignified noise of surprise when Chosen swept his legs out from under him, making him lose balance. With a well timed shove, they ended up on the ground with Chosen on top and his wooden sword lying across Dark’s throat.

Dark looked up at him with bewilderment.

“Told ya,” Chosen grinned smugly. Dark huffed.

“You pushed me! That wasn’t fair,” he pouted.

“There aren’t any rules in sparring, besides not actually hurting each other.”

Dark pushed Chosen off of him and showed off a big bruise forming on his elbow, probably from when he landed roughly on the ground.

“Well this actually hurts!”

Chosen blinked. “I uh didn’t mean tuh—”

Dark laughed at his sudden seriousness.

“It’s just a little bruise, Chosen! I’m gonna be alright.” Dark looked contemplative for a moment before he spoke again. “Hmm…Can I call you Cho?”

“Cho? Why?” Chosen frowned at the sudden nickname.

“‘Cause it’s easier to say.”

“It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not!” Dark folded his hands together. “Please? Cho?” 

“Sure, I guess.” Chosen didn’t actually want to give in; he just supposed that agreeing would be better than arguing. 

Both boys stood up and dusted themselves off.

“I’ll be prepared this time,” Dark promised. “You won’t win so easily!”

“Or so you say,” Chosen grinned, having fun despite himself. “You get first move.”

Dark swung his sword at Chosen’s side, which left his own stomach wide open. It was an easy dodge, and Chosen followed with a sharp jab to the other boy’s middle.

“Yow!” Dark thwacked him on the shoulder with his wooden sword.

“It was just a little poke!” Chosen prodded him again, and Dark twisted out of his reach. “Don’t tell me you’re… ticklish?”

“No way!” Dark scrunched his nose, then went for an attack to Chosen’s legs, causing him to stumble, but he didn’t fall over. Chosen countered with another shove, but Dark predicted that move this time.

The red haired boy grabbed Chosen’s shoulders and pushed back, and suddenly they were wrestling around in the sandy training pit, their wooden swords all but forgotten. Dark grunted, struggling to gain the upper hand. In a strength battle, Chosen would win.

Successfully wrestling the other kid onto the ground and holding him there until he stopped squirming around, Chosen smirked down at him.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna make this easy for me!”

“Not fair,” Dark whined, “The average kid our age is not this strong.”

“I’m seven months older—”

“Seven months!” Dark sat up when Chosen finally let him go. “That isn’t even that much!”

Chosen glanced at where their fathers had been busy chatting with each other and catching up. Dark followed his gaze. Surprisingly, both generals were nowhere to be found.

“Did my dad seriously leave me here?” Chosen complained.

“Hey, my dad left too,” Dark added. “But do you know what that means?”

No, Chosen did not know what that meant, and nor did he want to find out, given the very sly, rather sadistic, and incredibly toothy grin that was slowly spreading across Dark’s face.

Unfortunately, Dark was going to tell him anyway.

“It means we can go play pranks on people!”

Chosen blinked.

Pranks? They’d only just met and Dark already wanted to pull pranks? 

Dark still had that mischievous grin on his face as he showed Chosen the matches in his pocket.

“If you think I’m gonna help you set the throne room on fire, no, I’m not doing that.” Chosen said, standing up and backing away. Dark grabbed his wrist.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” he pleaded with those big grey eyes of his.

“Setting things on fire?”

“Fine, we don’t have to do that.” Dark pulled out a small vial from his pocket. Chosen gave him a suspicious look. “It’s just cough medicine!” Dark assured. “The bitter kind. I got it from the physician.”

“Right.”

“We can sneak it into the nobles’ wine and watch them make faces!”

Chosen had to admit, some of those noblemen and noblewomen were really stuck up and annoying. The idea of giving them cough-medicine-infused-wine was oddly tempting.

Dark, sensing Chosen was actually considering the idea, grinned even wider. “And then, we can go to the kitchen and steal pie!”

“I have plenty of pie at home,” Chosen said lamely. He really liked pie. Especially apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, and mulberry pie…

“I’m telling you, nothing compares to the pie they make in the palace.” Dark said smoothly, “There’s a reason why the pie from the royal kitchens is reserved for royals only. Are you hungry? Don’t you want to have a taste of royal pie?”

Chosen was really curious now. Especially since Dark mentioned pie, and he was getting hungry after the trip to the palace and then sparring.

“Yeah, fine, let’s do it.” Chosen nodded, looking around. The training grounds were empty save for the two of them.

Dark cheered, dragging him towards the palace.

That was how Chosen found himself hiding behind a tapestry with Dark, trying not to giggle as they waited for the nobles to sit down and have a toast. It was lunchtime, and Dark had gone around pouring cough medicine into each and every cup while the servants were still setting the table.

The two boys held their breaths in anticipation as glasses clinked together, and then snickered as the nobles promptly drank and tried their best to hold it in.

“Shh, Cho,” Dark snorted from behind his hand, “They’ll find us.”

Chosen wheezed, trying to stifle his giggles at the confused nobles. “What do we do?”

“This way,” Dark yanked him into a side room, out of earshot from the nobles. Both boys kept giggling the whole time as they scampered down the hall towards the royal kitchens.

“Are we even allowed in there?” Chosen peeked through the closed door. The smell of food wafted out, and his stomach rumbled.

“Noooo,” Dark drawled, “but that isn’t stopping us, is it? I promised you pie.”

Chosen nodded quickly. Yes, he was here for pie. He wondered what kinds of pie there would be, but he honestly didn’t really care, because he was really hungry and any pie sounded heavenly right now.

“They’ll see us if we come in through the main door,” Dark whispered, “So we’re gonna go through the back entrance. There’s a window where they put the pies.”

Chosen nodded and followed the other boy. The servants didn’t really mind them, though they drew a few curious glances. Dark peeked through the back door of the kitchens, and quietly opened the door, praying it wouldn’t creak.

And there they were.

The pies.

There were four of them, all lined up nicely on the windowsill. Chosen licked his lips.

“What flavor do you want?” Dark whispered.

“Just grab the first one. I don’t care,” Chosen murmured back. Dark nodded and quietly slid the first pie from the windowsill, holding it with both hands. There were no kitchen staff back here, yet.

“Here, hold it,” Dark handed the pie to Chosen, before motioning for him to follow. “I know a place where we can eat it together!”

“Without getting caught?”

“Yup! This way, hurry.”

Chosen skittered after him, trying his best to keep up and not drop the pie at the same time. It was still quite warm, but cool enough to hold without burning his hands. The perfect temperature.

Dark led him to the stables, but instead of walking in, he took the stairs in the corner. They were wooden and creaked an awful lot, so Chosen hoped they wouldn’t break on his way up.

When he made it to the top, he looked around at the rather cozy wooden space above the animals.

“Wow… this is…”

“It’s a little loft above the stables,” Dark smiled brightly, “It’s where they keep the extra horseshoes, saddles, stirrups, hay… you name it.”

A quick look around confirmed the storing purposes of the loft.

“But I like to use it as my secret hideout!” Dark motioned for Chosen to set the pie on the floor, and both of them sat down, facing each other. “Nobody ever comes up here, and it’s a nice place to hang out. Though, it gets lonely with just me…”

“Um, that’s cool,” Chosen said absently. He kept staring at the pie. It had some sort of red filling, so he thought it was probably cherry pie.

“You’re just hungry, right?” Dark teased. He pulled a knife out of his pocket (did he have that the whole time? Chosen was still absolutely terrified of this kid) and cut out a slice for Chosen, before handing him a fork to eat it with.

“Where did you get that?” Chosen pointed at the knife.

“I swiped it from the kitchen when we were getting the pie,” Dark said matter-of-factly. “Same with the forks.”

“When—” Chosen stared at him as if he was crazy. He had been watching Dark the whole time and he did not see any fork or knife swiping.

Dark shrugged.

“I’m rather good with my hands.”

Chosen snorted.

“You didn’t have to say it like that!”

“Like what?” Dark thought of his words, before bursting into another fit of bright laughter. “Ohhhh, like that! Wanna know what else my hands can do?” He winked and Chosen choked on his spit.

“Cursors, Dark!”

Dark, thinking his joke was the funniest thing ever, continued to howl with laughter, clutching at his sides. 

To calm down, Chosen had a bite of pie. Dark was right, this was the best pie he ever had. The crust was warm and golden-brown, crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. The pie filling was made completely of sweet cherries, but it wasn’t too sweet. Just how Chosen liked it.

Dark’s laughter had finally died down, and now he was just watching Chosen’s expression with a very interested expression.

“Well? Whaddya think of royal pie?”

“It’s really good,” Chosen mumbled through another mouthful, “I think this is the best pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“I told you so!”

Chosen helped himself to another slice. Maybe this pie was just really good, or he was really hungry. It might have been both.

“Do you think our dads might be looking for us?” Chosen asked right when Dark just had a huge bite of pie. The other boy chewed quickly and swallowed first before answering.

“Probably,” Dark shrugged. “It’s been probably an hour or so since we stopped sparring.”

“Is this what you do all the time? Prank people?” Chosen wondered. Dark nodded enthusiastically, his messy red hair flying everywhere with the movement. Chosen really wanted to grab a brush and resolve that mess on the other boy’s head.

The pie was almost all gone. Chosen felt pleasantly full.

“Does your hair ever get annoying?” He couldn’t help but say, “Do you even own a brush, or a haircomb, or—”

“Yeah,” Dark replied sheepishly, “but I don’t use it.”

Chosen frowned. He really wanted to fix Dark’s hair right now, and Dark shrugged, not really caring. He leaned over and grabbed one of the brushes hanging on the wall.

“You can use this.”

Chosen stared at him, mouth agape. “But that’s for the horses!”

“I don’t care,” Dark shrugged. Chosen took the brush hesitantly and started to brush out Dark’s wild hair.

It took him way too long, but by the time he was done, Dark’s hair was actually not sticking up everywhere, and fell a little past his shoulders.

“You can, like, tie your hair back to keep it out of the way,” Chosen suggested. Dark pulled a ribbon from his pocket and took Chosen’s suggestion.

“Hm. Yeah, it’s nicer this way,” Dark admitted. Some ants had discovered the pie pan and were carrying away the crumbs. Chosen picked up the empty pan and the two boys went down the stairs.

Now to sneak the pan back into the kitchen.

“Usually this is harder than stealing the pie,” Dark pointed out. “I don’t know why. It just is.”

Since Dark stole the pie, it was Chosen’s turn to return the pan. Dark stood by the back door as Chosen crept in, and gently set the pie pan onto the counter. Success! He turned around and ran right into a kitchen servant.

Chosen jumped backwards, his eyes darting towards the door. He scrambled to stand nicely. The servant was just a girl, at most a couple years older than him, but she could still get him in trouble.

“What are you doing here?” the kitchen servant asked, looking less angry and more curious.

“Um, I was returning a pie pan,” Chosen swallowed. “I uh… I found it outside.”

“Oh, you were? How sweet of you.” The servant ruffled his hair. Chosen ducked in embarrassment.

“It must’ve been that boy Dark again,” she sighed, looking at the pie pan. “Remind me your name?”

“Um, Chosen.”

“Ah, the other general’s son.” The servant smiled. “Thanks for returning the pan! Keep an eye on Dark, will you?”

“Uh, I’ll try,” Chosen said quietly. “I’ll… uh, see you around?”

The servant waved at him and Chosen quickly escaped the kitchen, heart pounding. That was a close call.

“Didja do it?” Dark whispered once they were safely in the hall. Chosen nodded.

“I ran into one of the servants,” Chosen admitted, “But she didn’t get me in trouble. Hopefully.”

“Yeah, there are always more servants lounging around whenever it’s time to return the pan,” Dark huffed. “For some reason.”

“Chosen!”

“Oh, I think that’s my dad,” Chosen said, walking towards the source of the voice. Indeed, he and Dark’s fathers were searching around the palace for their sons.

“There you are! We were looking everywhere for you two!”

“Well, you were the ones that left us alone in the training pit,” Dark quipped.

“We thought you’d just be sparring the whole time!”

Chosen shrugged. “We came in to rest a little.”

The generals sighed.

“Remind me to never leave you two alone again,” Chosen’s father grumbled, “I don’t want a repeat of today.”

The two boys giggled.

“At least you had fun?”

Chosen’s face flushed. No, he did not have fun—

“I told you that you’d get along just fine with him!”

“Come on, Dad!”

“What,” Dark sidled up to Chosen, “Were you scared of meeting me?”

“I was not!”

“You totally were!” Dark singsonged. Chosen shoved him and then gave his father a pleading look.

“Dad, can we go?”

“Fine, fine. Say bye to your new friend, son.”

Chosen groaned.

“Bye, Dark.”

“Bye Cho! See you tomorrow!”

As they were walking back to the stables, Chosen’s father elbowed him.

“So, Cho, is it?”

Chosen screamed in embarrassment, startling the horses.

The Vesterian Palace - Meeting Room, 1704

Chosen stifled a yawn as he sat in the stuffy meeting room, surrounded by all the super important royal advisors and the leaders of Vesteria’s royal army. His father had dragged him along, insisting he gain some “experience” about what it was really like being a general, since he would take up his father’s post once he was old enough.

The most exciting part was when they just got seated and the messenger sitting at the end of the table read from his report about the skirmish that broke out at the northern border. Apparently, three of the villages nearest to the border had been taken over in the fight.

“This is an active declaration of war to Vesteria,” the king had commented after the messenger finished reading. “But one that will likely be resolved with a single battle.”

After that, Chosen zoned out because it was just the advisors pointing out every single possible thing that could go wrong and endless debating over how many people to send.

He jolted when someone kicked him under the table. Chosen looked up to see Dark grinning at him from his seat across the table.

Chosen couldn’t help the little smile on his face as he kicked the other boy back.

As much fun as it was to kick each other, there was only so much they could do without drawing attention and disrupting the meeting. It got boring and Chosen sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Dad,” he whispered, “I’m bored.”

“Patience is a virtue, son.”

“Everyone tells me that,” Chosen whisper-complains. “But they never tell me what to do about it!”

His father chuckled. “Just sit through it, son.”

Chosen frowned but he didn’t complain anymore. Dark kept giving him funny looks and Chosen finally glanced under the table to see the other boy trying to hand him a piece of paper. Curious, he took it and unfolded it to read what was written in messy handwriting:

“Advisor Sage has a big nose.”

Chosen stifled a snort of laughter as he quickly glanced at the advisor whose nameplate read “Sage”. Dark wasn’t wrong. That man did have a big nose.

Without wasting another second, Chosen picked up his quill and scribbled onto a scrap of parchment:

“Advisor Carmine has no eyebrows.”

He folded his note and passed it to Dark under the table, then enjoyed the other boy’s astonished glance at Advisor Carmine to confirm Chosen’s statement.

Their back and forth continued like this until the end of the meeting. All the notes ended up stuffed in each boy’s pockets, to prevent the adults from finding them.

“Advisor Cobalt’s shirt is backwards.”

“Advisor Pearl is making eyes at Advisor Turquoise.”

“Advisor Turquoise is making ink splotches everywhere.”

They must have gone through every advisor at least once by the time the king stood up and announced everyone was dismissed. Chosen was closest to the door and he left without staying another second.

Dark caught up to him in the hallway.

“That was hilarious, Chosen!” the other boy said aloud, clapping his friend on the back. “This one had me dying.” He showed Chosen one of the notes.

“Advisor Berry is going honk mimimi because the meeting is so boring.”

Chosen snorted. “I was just trying to describe the sound of his snoring.”

“It’s hilarious!” Dark guffawed, “Honk mimimi! I’m going to use that.”

“Boys!”

Both boys turned around to see the Head Chamberlain, Mango, walking towards them.

“Oh um, do you need us, sir?” Chosen said first.

“Just wanted to know what was so funny,” Mango said. He looked serious, but there was a glint in his eye.

The two fourteen year olds glanced at each other.

“It’s classified!” Dark chirped.

“I see,” Mango picked up a paper that had dropped from Chosen’s pocket. Oh no, oh no no no …

To their surprise, the head chamberlain laughed.

“Advisor Carmine has no eyebrows?” Mango chuckled, “I’ve got to pay more attention the next time we have a meeting.”

“They might’ve grown back by then,” Chosen said sheepishly.

“We’ll see,” Mango handed the note back, and the two boys quickly ran down the hall.

They ended up burning their notes, along with a couple of the tapestries in the throne room. It wasn’t really their fault those tapestries caught fire so easily, but they were smart boys and escaped the scene anyway.

Later that night, Chosen was in the guest room he shared with his father in the palace. They would be leaving the next morning, so Chosen had napped the whole afternoon, knowing he wouldn’t get much sleep at night. His father wanted Chosen to come with him to this battle, so he could gain some experience in actual warfare.

Of course, the young fourteen-year-old was a nervous mess. It was slightly better because he knew his father would be there, and Vesteria’s general was very capable of protecting his own son from the northern invaders.

“It’s about three days’ journey to the border if we ride nonstop,” Chosen’s father told him. The boy only nodded absently, tightening the leather straps on his armor, his chainmail clinking with every movement. All this metal was so heavy, he felt like he could barely move.

“We’re leaving at dawn, so you can take this time to practice.”

Chosen nodded, thinking that was a good idea. He could at least try to reach some of his usual agility without armor, and practice was always beneficial.

“I will, Dad,” he glanced at the helmet sitting on the bed next to him. “But can I leave the helmet here? It’s too heavy.”

“Fine, son. Don’t get lost.”

Chosen sighed. He knew the palace like the back of his hand, thanks to he and Dark’s many… shenanigans over the past two years. Every hidden room, every secret passageway, and every door were ingrained in Chosen’s memory. He could even number the torches in each hallway and every painting on the walls.

“I won’t. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye son.”

Chosen scampered down the hallways. He couldn’t move silently like he used to, with all this armor clinking and clanking everywhere, making a huge racket. Hopefully, he didn’t wake up the whole palace by the time he made it to the training grounds, which were empty.

The air outside was fresh and cool, with stars twinkling in the night sky. A light breeze picked up some dust from the sandy training pit, which Chosen walked through on his way to the rack of weapons by the wall.

Instead of using one of the wooden training swords, Chosen grabbed a blunted metal one. It was too blunt to easily cut anything, but could still deal real damage. Most importantly, it was much heavier than the wooden swords, more similar to the sword he would be using in an actual battle.

Scanning over the many practice dummies standing next to the weapon rack, Chosen picked the one that had moving wooden limbs that would swing around when he hit them. He started without the sword, warming up with some bare-handed combat.

He wasn’t aware of the other person that approached behind him until a familiar voice reached his ears.

“You’ll tire yourself out before the actual battle, Cho.”

Chosen jolted in surprise, his fist slamming into the dummy’s wooden torso, knocking it over onto the ground with a loud clatter.

“Can you not sneak up on me like that?!” he exclaimed, whirling around to face Dark, who was wearing his trademark toothy grin. And, Chosen noted, just a threadbare shirt and shorts, unlike himself in full armor.

“Sorry~ You were too focused, I just had to!”

Chosen grumbled, picking the dummy back up, this time adding some weights on its base so it wouldn’t fall over again.

“You’re a menace, Dark.”

“Yeah, but I’m also your friend,” Dark said brightly, way too energetic for this late hour. “I was looking for you.”

“To do what?” Chosen wondered.

Dark shrugged. “I had another idea.”

Usually that meant he came up with another fun prank to pull on the royal court, but Dark’s face was uncharacteristically serious. 

“Another prank?” Chosen asked anyway.

“No,” Dark started to shuffle his feet. Nervousness really didn’t fit him. Chosen stood there and waited.

“I, uh, wanted to come along with you,” Dark finally said quietly.

“Your father isn’t taking you?”

Dark shook his head, looking so dejected. Chosen had never seen him look so sad and disappointed before. It really didn’t fit him.

“He said he wanted me to be safe more than anything else,” Dark admitted, “But… but I wanna go.”

“Why, because battles are exciting?” Chosen wondered. To his surprise, Dark shook his head.

“Well… yeah, they are,” Dark mumbled, “But it’s mostly because you’re going and… I…” he trailed off. Chosen watched him patiently.

“... and I’ll miss you,” Dark finally whispered, almost inaudibly. “And I won’t know how you’re doing, and I’ll be stuck at home, doing nothing, completely helpless…”

“Dark, I’m gonna be fine,” Chosen promised. He knew how much his friend hated the feeling of helplessness. Whether in big or small situations, Dark always had to have some sort of control over what was happening. It was cute.

“You don’t know that!” Dark protested, “It’s a battle, Chosen. You never know what’s going to happen.”

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks,” Chosen assured, “You won’t miss me too much.”

Dark still looked dejected.

“Two whole weeks doing pranks on my own,” he sighed.

“There should be other kids here that can keep you company just fine—”

“No,” Dark cut him off, “Chosen. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. And… it’s not like the other kids really liked playing with me anyway.”

He finally glanced up and met Chosen’s ruby eyes. The usually carefree, mischievous kid just looked lost right now. Lonely, even.

“You know,” Chosen said slowly, “It’d be great if you came along, but you have to get your dad to approve, or else we all get in trouble.”

Dark huffed. “I’ll leave him a note, or something. So he’ll know it was me and not you guys dragging me off.”

“Fine, then. Whatever works.” Chosen shrugged, though he was secretly really happy Dark could go with him. “Should we spar some?”

“Uh, sure.” Dark grabbed one of the blunt metal swords too.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing some training gear at least?”

“You won’t actually stab me, right?”

“Accidents happen, Dark,” Chosen grumbled. “I’m not sparring with you until you’re properly dressed for it.”

Dark, complaining the whole way, ended up dressing better and the two of them sparred until the first lights of dawn crept over the horizon. By then, both boys were sweaty and ready to crash.

“Chosen!”

Chosen snapped up at the sound of his name. Of course, it was his father.

Dark stayed behind, keeping up the guise that he was going to remain at the palace.

Chosen knew he would catch up with the last of the soldiers.

After pretty much three days of solid riding, Chosen wondered how anyone was expected to put up any fight at all. Every single one of his muscles ached, and he was so tired from the nonstop journey to the northern border. Even the breeze here was a little cooler than the one back at the capital.

And, worst of all, he hadn’t seen Dark during the whole journey. He knew Dark was probably just hiding from Chosen’s father to avoid getting sent home before they reached the border.

They stopped at a small village to set up camp and get a little food and rest before setting off. Chosen was too full of anticipation to be tired now.

The scent of smoke irritated Chosen’s nose. As they traveled over a hill, the towns that had been invaded were laid out in a burning mess. The sounds of fighting and the panicked screams of civilians sent fear running through Chosen. It was as if he suddenly realized how intense this whole thing was.

Chosen swallowed nervously, sitting up a little straighter as the general gave a quick speech to boost everyone’s morale. The words went completely over his head, but when everyone gave a loud battle cry, he joined in.

He took a deep breath and drew his sword, and almost subconsciously, kicked his horse to gallop along with the others. The invading northerners barely had time to react before they were getting absolutely demolished.

Chosen swung his sword almost blindly, trying to always keep his father within sight. But it was all completely overwhelming. The sights, the sounds, the smells, he felt like he was moving on autopilot. Like there was something else controlling his body and he wasn’t actually there, or he was just standing by, watching himself fight.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a flash of vibrant red. Not the color of blood, but a brighter, wilder one.

“Chosen!”

Chosen’s face lit up with joy, eyes meeting with Dark for the first time since they left the palace. The other boy smiled blindingly, almost forgetting about the battle around them as he lifted his hand to wave at Chosen and left his side wide open to the northern soldier approaching from behind him—

“Behind you!” Chosen shouted, and time seemed to slow as Dark turned around and dodged the attack that was meant for his heart but it sank into his side, the sight causing bile to rise in Chosen’s throat and his heart to stutter in its place.

Chosen heard a shrill scream pierce the air, filled with pain and terror. He thought it was Dark, until he realised it was himself.

He was screaming.

Chosen moved almost blindly, throwing his sword into the offending soldier, almost falling off of his own horse in his rush to dismount, tripping over his feet as he reached out with his arms to catch Dark.

“Dark—!”

“Cho,” Dark murmured. “It hurts.”

“Of course it hurts,” Chosen sniffled, hoisting up his friend while trying his best not to strain the wound and make it worse. A few other Vesterian soldiers help Chosen get Dark onto his horse, and he quickly turned around, making for the camp.

Blood seeped through Chosen’s sleeve from where his arm was around Dark’s side. It was warm and it kept soaking through.

Chosen gritted his teeth and urged his horse to gallop faster, his young hands gripping the reins with so much force his knuckles were white and throbbing.

“Hold on, Dark,” he said in a strained voice, more to himself than to the half-conscious boy in front of him. How could it have gone like this? They were supposed to just fight, and then be fine…

Dark’s eyelids drooped as they arrived at the village where the temporary camp was set up. Chosen had memorized the way to the makeshift infirmary and barely stopped himself from barging in with his horse. He dismounted, and helped Dark down, putting an arm around his shoulder to support him.

Inside, it was total chaos. The doctors and nurses were running around, tending to all the injured lying on rows upon rows of cots. But they still managed to set apart a whole room, although a small one, for the general’s son. Dark was special enough for that.

Chosen didn’t care about specialness.

He just wanted his friend to be okay.

There was a stool by the side of the cot, and Chosen sat there, watching helplessly as the doctor treated Dark’s wound.

“Will he be okay?” Chosen kept asking, but nobody could give him a sure answer until Dark turned his head around with a little wince.

“Don’t look like that, Cho!” he rasped out, but still with that same bright energy, not even a bit dulled by pain or fatigue. “I’ll be fine!”

Chosen wanted to believe him so, so badly, but he told himself he shouldn’t get his hopes up.

He shouldn’t expect good things.

“Please. I hope you’re right.”

The medical staff tried to get Chosen to leave the room, but he was stubborn and stayed. When they had done all they could, they instructed Chosen to at least watch his friend and tell them if anything happened.

It wasn’t until the door closed did Dark speak again. Chosen had thought he was asleep already, passed out from blood loss and pain.

“What would you do if I really died, Cho?”

Chosen didn’t even want to think about that.

“Get some rest, Dark.”

Dark pouted but his lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Cho.”

It wasn’t even night. It was mid afternoon. Chosen opened his mouth but he didn’t want to say goodnight yet.

He waited for Dark’s breathing to even out before he leaned against the cot, burying his face in his hands, soaking the sheets with his tears as he wept silently, little sobs and hiccups leaving his throat until his eyes were red and puffy, and his nose was all stuffy, and he couldn’t cry any more, because his eyes had run out of tears.

He thought about Dark’s question.

“I would bandage you up and take care of you and wait until you came back to life.”

Chosen didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he knew he did, sitting on the stool, leaning against the cot with his head lying on the edge of it.

A nurse came by a few hours later to silently open the window and air out the room. The golden light of late afternoon streamed in, and when she looked back at the scene from the doorway, the sunlight seemed to reflect off of Chosen’s smooth raven hair in a halo.

One could imagine, for a few moments, that he was an angel.

But he was just a fourteen year old soldier praying for a miracle to happen.

Vesterian General’s Estate - Chosen’s Room, 1705

“Ha, take that!”

A pillow flew across the room and smacked Chosen in the face. Dark jumped on top of him, another pillow in his hands, which he used to repeatedly bash Chosen with.

Chosen scrambled to grab one of the soft weapons of his own and managed to sock Dark across the face.

He watched with pleasure as the other boy fell backwards with a little “oof” before throwing his pillow at Chosen, though his attack was caught and immediately redirected back towards him.

“Gotcha!” Chosen giggled as he put a pillowcase over Dark’s head and shoulders.

Dark slapped him lightly, bonking their foreheads together, which actually kind of hurt.

“Owwie,” Chosen grumbled. Dark yanked the pillowcase off of his head and whacked Chosen with it.

Chosen chucked another pillow into Dark’s face. To his surprise, Dark threw the pillow aside and pounced on Chosen, deciding that he was done with the back and forth.

Wrestling it out was fine. Chosen knew he would win in a strength battle against Dark any day.

Dark knew that too.

He jabbed his elbow into Chosen’s slightly more vulnerable sides and used the element of surprise to gain leverage. Chosen shoved him off and hopped onto the bed, standing up so he could loom over Dark.

When they first met, Chosen was almost half a head taller than the other boy. Now, he was half a head shorter. It was all completely unfair.

“Are you trying to be taller than me?” Dark teased, looking up at him.

“It’s not fair!” Chosen huffed. “You can’t be both younger and taller than me!”

Dark shrugged. “I quite like being taller. Makes you seem less scary.”

“I’m not scary!”

“You kind of are. Sometimes.”

Chosen snorted. He didn’t try to be scary. Maybe his aura was just so strong and intimidating like that.

Dark jumped onto the bed and loomed over Chosen. He wasn’t even that much taller, but somehow he was very good at looming.

“Get ready to lose.”

“How do you even lose a pillow fight?” Chosen countered.

“I guess it’s like a wrestling match, then.” Dark reasoned. It made enough sense.

“You know you can’t beat me in wrestling,” Chosen grinned. “Even though you’re taller.”

“Wrestling doesn’t have to do with height!”

“Uh, it does, a little bit.”

Dark shrugged and pulled Chosen into a headlock. Chosen tripped himself, falling onto the bed and bringing Dark with him, then used surprise to his advantage as he quickly rolled them over so he was on top.

“That was lame, Dark.” He chided. “You could do better than that.”

Dark shoved a pillow into his face and, while Chosen was busy being smothered, rolled them over again.

Chosen managed to get the pillow off of his face and coughed a bit.

“Cutting off my air supply, that was a low blow.” He taunted, before sneaking his hands to Dark’s sides. His poor friend had no idea what was in store for him until Chosen started to tickle hom relentlessly.

Dark tried to squirm away, choking on the breathless giggles that escaped his lips.

“Tickling is a— a low blow!” Dark gasped out between breaths. Chosen continued his assault, smirking to himself proudly.

By the time he was done, Dark was a tired heap in the middle of the bed.

“Fine, you win again,” he mumbled, curling in on himself. “Just stop tickling me, please?”

“Fine,” Chosen conceded, despite how fun it was. He let himself fall backwards with a happy little sigh.

Dark looked over the room lazily. They had knocked over a lot of furniture and other items. Pillows were all over the place. Even Chosen’s clothes were strewn about everywhere, but they were like that before they started their pillow fight.

Chosen needed to be more organized and this really wasn’t helping.

“What a big mess,” Dark said lightly.

“That’s a problem for another day,” Chosen grumbled.  “I’m sleepy.”

“Sleepy already? You were just tickling the living daylights out of me.”

“Well, that used up all the rest of my energy.”

“You’re acting as if tickling me was a chore.”

Chosen laughed.

“If only chores could be that enjoyable.”

Dark rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin up with his forearms to face Chosen.

“Did you know the prince’s third birthday is tomorrow?” Dark suddenly brought up.

“Really? I didn’t think it was that soon.”

“Are you going?”

“Of course,” Chosen said as if it was obvious. “There’s free food.”

“Just for the food, huh? And not the adorable young prince? What kind of a Vesterian are you?” Dark joked.

“A hungry one.” Chosen deadpanned, before both of them burst out laughing.

“Is your dad going?” Dark asked. He mostly wanted to know for pranking reasons.

“He’ll be at the palace but not the actual event. What about your dad?” Chosen stared up at the ceiling.

“Same, I think,” Dark smiled at the thought of more mischief. Perhaps he could do the cough medicine in wine trick on the nobles again, for old times’ sake.

The prince’s birthday ceremony was rather boring, especially since the two teens had to stand by the door with the other guards and keep an eye on everything instead of eating. The food looked really good, and Chosen was actually salivating at the sight of it.

“Cursors above, Dark. I’m starving,” Chosen complained, shuffling next to him.

“I could ask a servant to grab a plate for us and we can eat here,” Dark suggested. Chosen glanced around at the other guards, who were all dutifully at their stations, all serious.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to eat?”

“We’re not guards!”

“Yeah,” Chosen sighed. “But we’re still supposed to be ‘practicing’.”

“They won’t care that much.” Dark shrugged, and waved a servant over before telling him to get them some food. Chosen had a piece of steak, roasted to perfection, and he made a little happy noise as he ate.

It wasn’t until the guests had dug into the roasted chicken in the middle of the table did they find out what troublesome things Dark and Chosen had been up to. They made surprised sounds as fruit of all sorts spilled out of the chicken.

“That was genius,” Chosen whispered. Dark snickered.

Other mishaps kept happening. Some of the wine was bitter with cough medicine. The other half had been mixed with a good helping of honey. Afraid of making a scene, the celebration guests merely smiled through it and pretended nothing was wrong at all.

Dark was staring intently at the tarts on the table. He nudged Chosen with his elbow.

“I swapped the salt and sugar before they made the tarts.” His voice was a hushed murmur. “Just wait until someone eats one.”

Chosen tried not to snort, stifling his laughs with his hand. “What about the other desserts?”

“Nah. I didn’t get to them in time,” Dark shrugged. “There were too many people in the kitchen. It wasn’t easy.”

The young prince at the head of the table had finished his meal. He had just taken a bite of his cake when the nobles started dropping like stones.

“What?” Dark whispered in disbelief.

It turned out the two mischievous boys weren’t the only ones who messed with the drinks.

As the whole room flew into a panic over the poison that had somehow snuck into the wine, the cloaked figures near the perimeters of the room began to close in.

The guards had assumed they were some servants or the advisors standing quietly. When they brandished their weapons, everyone realized their mistake. The royals quickly huddled together around the young prince, but they were cornered.

Chosen’s body moved before his head had time to react. Since he and Dark had been forced to practice guard duty, he had his sword on him, and he brandished it against the enemies without a second thought. The other guards closed in, forming a protective semi-circle around the royal family.

One of the cloaked figures attacked Chosen, and he quickly blocked the blow, twisting around and swinging his sword around at the guy’s side. The sounds of fighting surrounded them as the guards struggled to hold off the invaders. More and more of them kept pouring in from the doors, and Chosen wondered how so many of these cloaked figures had snuck into the palace without anyone noticing.

Or perhaps it was planned, and they had been left in the dark.

“Dark!” Chosen shouted, panting. “Get the royal family to safety!”

Dark only gave him a quick nod before he fought a path through the invaders, motioning for the royal family to follow. The head chamberlain, Mango, scooped up the crying young prince and ran after them, and the king and queen right behind them.

Chosen elbowed a cloaked figure in the face, kicking another one in the shins with the force needed to make his way over to them. Dark was just one person, and the guards were already overwhelmed.

He was still too late.

Chosen watched in muted horror as one of the invaders threw a knife through the air, the only warning a faint swish that was lost in the noise and chaos. The next thing he knew, the queen stumbled, falling to the ground, the front of her dress blooming with a bright red.

“Keep going!” Dark tugged at the chamberlain’s arm, tearing him away from the royal family. They had to keep the prince safe.

The little three year old was terribly confused. He screamed for his mother. But she was lying on the ground, not getting up. Perhaps he though she was asleep? He knew now wasn’t a good time to sleep! His many questions were left unanswered as Mango ran towards the exit with Dark protecting them.

Chosen picked up another sword that had fallen on the ground, rushing to the king and queen. He couldn’t get past the many invaders that absolutely descended upon the royal couple, cheering at their victory.

He jumped, feeling a hand on his arm. It was the other chamberlain, Cerulean.

“Let’s go,” Cerulean said with a jerk of his head, “The young prince needs all the support and protection there is.”

Chosen took one last look at the great hall. The table had been overturned, and there was food all over the floor. Poisoned nobles laid slumped in their seats. The tiles and the carpet were soggy with red liquid— wine, Chosen figured, or worse, blood.

He turned around, blood roaring in his ears, heart pounding in his chest, and pushed open the heavy double doors, scrambling down the grand staircase and towards the stables. Mango, the young prince, and Dark had already gotten on their horses. Chosen hurriedly saddled his own, catching up to them along with Cerulean.

As they galloped through the capital, hurrying away from the palace, Chosen looked over his shoulder and saw that the invaders had given chase. Their flags and banners displayed a light purple flower, the Aster.

The symbol of Astria.

“Astrians! They’re after us!” Chosen called, kicking his horse faster. He was pulling up the back while Dark stayed by the front, keeping a close eye on both chamberlains and the young prince.

“This way, we can’t be out in the open,” Mango steered them sharply out of the way, and they hid in a small alley while the Astrian army thundered past.

When all was still, the small party of five snuck out of the capital and made for a smaller village. They could stay the night there and get a little rest before journeying to a safe place. Brigton, Mango had said was its name. It was safer there, a small, low profile place.

As they left, the palace went up in flames.

The screams of terrified civilians flooded the entire capital.

Chosen would never forget the day Vesteria burned to the ground.

An Unnamed Village - Small Inn, that same night

The night was quiet and peaceful. Crickets chirped, and it was a little humid from the recent spring rains.

Chosen sat by the window of their small inn, head drooping a little. Next to him, Dark sat as bright and energetic as ever. Sometimes he really didn’t understand the other boy.

“How are you still awake?” Chosen whispered. They had, of course, been assigned guard duty while the chamberlains and the prince slept. Dark shrugged.

“I’ve got too much energy to sleep. I still can’t believe that all happened.”

Chosen sighed. Everything he once knew, no, everything they ever knew, was just gone like that. In a single instant, in a mere few minutes, it was all gone.

Flames that went up into the sky, screams that reached heaven–

Dark had that far-off look in his eyes, the kind he got when he was busy thinking about some new prank. He was a terribly clever young man. In their studies, Dark was easily the top of the class. He simply understood how things worked. He knew how the smallest critters went about their day, and he knew how every tool they had was made and how to use it.

Most of all, he knew how people worked. He knew how they thought, and how they felt. Dark, Chosen knew, was good at playing games. And even at their age, people were a game that Dark absolutely adored.

Chosen never understood how he did it. How Dark could get the most stubborn person to believe the most ridiculous lie. How he could just as easily convince the sharpest scholar that water was poison and poison was water.

It was almost uncanny.

“You’ve got that look again,” Chosen finally said quietly.

“What look?” Dark blinked, and then met his gaze.

“That look. The one you get when you’re thinking about some new prank to pull.”

“I’ve got a lot of thoughts right now, Cho. Don’t you have a lot of thoughts too?”

Chosen did, but he just kind of… silenced them. Today was already such a loud, busy day. He didn’t need the inside of his head to be loud and busy too.

Dark stiffened, and both of them seemed to hold their breath as the sounds of horse hooves broke the silence of the night.

Metal clinked and clanked right outside the window. Both boys peeked right over the windowsill, seeing the figures of the Astrian army in the darkness.

“They’re here,” said an unfamiliar voice. One of the Astrians. “They’re in this village. Search every house. We will not leave the young prince alive.”

Chosen and Dark slowly looked at each other, silently communicating.

What if they find us?

Will we die?

“I was thinking,” Dark finally breathed into Chosen’s ear, “what if I joined them?”

Chosen froze. What?

Joined them?

Was Dark insane?

And at a time like this, when they could use all the fighting power they had…

“Chosen?”

“I can’t believe you even considered such a thing!” the raven-haired boy snarled at him under his breath, as the sounds of the Astrian army drew dangerously closer. A strange look flashed across Dark’s face, something like a mix between grief and regret.

Dark blinked at him, his stormy grey eyes shimmering with emotion.

“You’re like the brother I never had, Chosen.”

Chosen wasn’t listening to him. He couldn’t. His mind was full of what Dark just suggested.

Leaving them? Now? Like this, helpless against the Astrian army?

“Chosen?”

“Leave if you want to!” Chosen shoves him, causing the other boy to stumble. “I thought you were my friend, Dark! I thought-”

He swallowed, before spitting out the words like they were poison.

“-that you were my brother, Dark! Someone I could rely on. Someone I could…” Chosen shook his head. “…love. Someone I could love like family.”

Dark gazed at those pretty ruby eyes. They used to look at him fondly, sparkling with joy, but none of Chosen’s affection remained for him. Only rage and hurt were left.

“Chosen, you’re not thinking clearly right now,” Dark said, hushed, almost inaudible over the sounds of metal and clattering hooves. “I do love you.”

“Don’t say that,” Chosen growled, pushing him away again. “Make up your mind. It’s me or them.”

“What if I choose both?”

“Then get out,” Chosen bared his teeth. “We have no use for disloyal brats.”

The words stung.

Dark retreated. He knew what he needed to do.

“Bye Chosen,” he whispered, “I love you.”

Chosen didn’t even look at him.

He kept his back to the door and his eyes on the ground the whole entire time. Dark left silently, but his absence was like a cold void, like an unwelcome gust of frigid wind. Chosen waited until the clatter of hooves faded into the distance, the sounds of the Astrian army moving elsewhere.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Dark had left them.

Dark had left him.

Traitor.

Traitor.

Traitor-!

Chosen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He was a General’s son. He didn’t cry.

He glanced at the window one last time. Somewhere, an owl hooted. Then, he looked at Mango, Cerulean, and the young prince, all sleeping peacefully. Chosen let out a heavy sigh.

Morning felt like years away.

The Vesterian Palace - Throne Room Ruins, a day later

“Explain yourself, boy.”

Dark swallowed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He told himself it was worth it. He had successfully drawn the Astrian army away from the village where the two chamberlains, the young prince, and Chosen were staying. Now all their attention was on him, this strange boy with long red hair and the family crest of one of Vesteria’s two generals.

One of the generals was dead. The other one was missing.

Dark was a valuable asset for Astria. They would keep him alive to win favor from the people.

“I said, explain yourself,” the man leading the Astrians, a mean looking guy with dark blue hair, crossed his arms and pinned Dark with his stare.

“I-I said I wanted to join you guys!” Dark repeated, his voice merely a squeak.

“Join us?” the man snarled, “What’s in it for you?”

“Safety,” Dark swallowed. Not for me. For Cho.

The man hummed. “You trust us this much already?”

“That was a clear win for Astria,” Dark praised, getting a little more confident as the Astrian man seemed to buy in on his sweet words. “I know we didn’t stand a chance. Why should I keep running when I can join you? Admit it, there are many things I can bring for you. I know more than you do about Vesteria. I’ve got a name among the people.”

The man seemed to be seriously considering Dark’s words.

“My name is Navy,” he finally introduced, extending a hand. “And I will be the new king of Astria. In exchange for your safety, will you swear allegiance and loyalty to Astria?”

Dark swallowed. He would never see Chosen again. More so, the one he cared for most dearly would hate him for the rest of his life.

But he would be alive.

He would be safe.

Dark took a deep breath. Taking up the station he was promised since birth was inevitable. He was a bit young for general, but he would grow into his role quickly. Such a close position to the future king of Astria would put him in control of so many things.

So many things that he could carefully manipulate to protect those he loved.

The one he cared about most.

Dark didn’t care too much about Vesteria’s prince, or Vesteria, in general.

He cared about Chosen.

And if Chosen liked Vesteria, then Dark did too. If Chosen wanted the prince safe, then so did Dark.

Dark stared at Navy’s outstretched hand, debating whether or not he should take it.

He slowly brought his own arm up and accepted the handshake. Navy’s grip was firm and final.

“Of course, your job isn’t done,” Navy said smoothly, “You will be the General of Astria, but how could I trust you?”

“What can I do to prove my loyalty?” Dark asked.

Navy looked deep in thought before a rather sinister grin spread across his face. “Vesteria’s other general also has a son, doesn’t he?”

Dark nodded. This was something everyone knew.

“His name, Chosen, was it?”

Dark tried his best not to squirm. He hated it when Navy said his dearest friend’s name like that. Like he was something to be caught.

“I take it that you know him.”

Lying now wouldn’t do him any good.

“I do know him.”

“Good. Then it should be easy for you to find him and kill him, right?”

Dark’s first reaction was panic.

His second reaction was joy.

“Would I be the only one with this task?”

“Of course,” Navy leaned back, crossing his arms again. “I need to see your loyalty. So, what do you say?”

Dark tried not to smile too brightly. “I accept.”

The words were said, the deal was made. Dark was going to be the one and only person sent after Chosen’s head. He simply couldn’t believe his luck. Chosen was in danger from nobody else, and Dark had full control over himself. He could keep him safe.

He could help him hide. He could cover for Chosen without the other ever knowing.

Maybe he was being a little extreme. But Chosen really was the only thing he cared about in his life. His father was gone and he had no other family. Vesteria was gone. He had no ties, no debts, nothing he owed to anyone but his loyalty to Chosen.

Dark clung to it desperately. The only thing that stayed constant was his knowledge that Chosen was still alive out there, somewhere.

“Good,” Navy chuckled to himself, before motioning for him to go. Dark bowed his head and quickly moved to help the Astrians clean up the palace and build it into something for Astria.

Now it was just a waiting game. Raid after raid, victory after victory, and Navy was bound to forget the loyalty mission that Dark would never complete. He would only remember the red-haired young man that served most faithfully at his side, helping him secure the throne.

Navy would never suspect his right-hand man to have his loyalties anywhere else.

The Astrian Palace — Guest Room, present day (1721)

The days marched on, and much too soon, it was the evening before Chosen had to take up the office of Vesteria’s General.

He had left the guest room for only a few minutes the previous day, noting how there were still two swords, still two sets of armor, still two of everything, and that there would forever be a hollow space at his side that nobody would ever be able to fill.

Chosen sighed heavily, and finally stood, his legs aching and sore from unuse. He slowly gathered the flowers strewn across the bed, collecting them with his thin fingers, and putting them in a vase half-filled with water sitting on a drawer.

He swept up the fallen petals, gathering them into a small pile in the middle of the floor. Chosen leaned the broom against a wall before crossing the room, back to attending to Dark’s unmoving form.

As if the other were still alive, Chosen checked all the bandages and made sure every wound was properly dressed. He uncapped a small vial of ointment and fixed up the places he had missed before. Despite it having been almost two whole weeks since the attack, the scent of death was faint in the room. Chosen had all the most covering perfumes, all the sweetest oils, and had spent hours meticulously making sure Dark was clean and taken care of.

He looked perfect as always.

Chosen sighed and corked the vial once more, slipping it into his pocket and taking a step back.

“Rest well, Dark. You were the best friend I could have ever asked for.”

He spoke aloud into the room. The wind answered him with a breeze through the window, like a silent promise. Slowly, Chosen turned around and opened the door, letting the servants come in. He watched as they carried Dark away, down the hall and into another room.

The ceremony would be the next morning.

Chosen sighed and picked up the vase of flowers. They sat on the table of his new office until he was afraid they might wilt, and then he pressed them in some of his heavy books, so that they would never fade.

“Brother,” the orange-haired boy, Second, asked him during the ceremony, “are you not sad anymore?”

Not a single tear had left Chosen’s eye that morning. He watched, almost coldly, as they buried his friend.

“No,” Chosen whispered. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s in a better place now, and I’m happy about that.”

[END]