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tamingthemuse2008-06-28 07:11 pm
tekia.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2008-06-28 07:11 pm
Entry tags:
Prompt# 101 - Entice - Fixings for Trouble - Tekia - original
Title: Fixings for Trouble :Chapters one and two.
Fandom: original
Prompt: Entice
Warnings: Product may contain traces of yaoi.
Rating: M for mature.
Summary: A prince tries to help his people while a knight tries to have fun without a care.
He was brushing his hair.
It was such a woman’s thing to do and it really didn’t come as a surprise. His hair was long, thick and a soft golden brown, just the sort of luscious hair that women would kill to have. The moon glimmered on its surface as he passed the brush through the strands and over his shoulder. The prince’s eyes were closed, and his lips had only the smallest of smiles gracing them, and serenity all but dripped off him as he sat alone in the deserted part of his mother’s rose garden. A small pool of light from the balcony above him spilled over the walk, stopping just at his bare toes curled in the grass. The clothes he wore were masculine enough, but with his thin and lithe body, the young prince could easily pass for a young woman.
He was not the tallest of the princes, but, given the stature of the younger boys now, it wouldn’t take them long to overcome their older brother. While the four other princes took after their father, it was Mirza alone that took after their mother. The brown hair and green eyes were so like the queen’s that many had awed over him as a babe. Now that he’d reached his maturity, those same people despaired of him achieving aught beyond the books that held most of the hours of his day.
The third prince was too small to make good use of the broadswords their culture favored, nor was he well adjusted to the going ons of the cabinet and court. At an early age he had closed himself into the library, well equipped with a grand total of four books, and emerged only for food and upon demand from the royal parents.
This was one of the few times Faris had seen the prince away from his inks and parchment. That came as a surprise, even if his choice of hiding place was well chosen. If one were to merely glance over the wall of rose bushes, one would nearly miss the young prince, and that was probably just as well. Mirza was never very well around guests. Despite his mother’s reprimands, he still insisted on lowering his gaze while in the presence of others, or making single syllable comments when forced to make polite. His mother despaired and finally threw her hands up and left him to his own devices.
Which seemed to be brushing his hair in the moonlight while the rest of the castle partied.
Although Faris had heard the rumors of the Fair Prince, he’d not paid them much heed, for his attention was consumed with things within his reach. When he’d arrived three years ago, his mind had been all for gaining the king’s favor and his spurs. Once safely knighted, he’d turned his eye to the idle ladies. Tupping was a sport for the royal court, the goal not to be caught by irate husbands. Not that Faris had many irate husbands leave in the same state.
Faris watched the prince for a while longer before behind called from behind to attend the party in full swing. He vaguely wondered why the third prince never attended the parties thrown in his family’s honor, but was quickly distracted by the light laughter and wine being passed around. As he picked a flute from a passing servant, his eyes sought out a conquest for the night.
Perhaps he would welcome the advances of the Lady Q finally. She had been hounding him for the past week, after he’d tossed her maid. Which brought his eyes to the woman standing beside Lady Q. Her hair was pulled away from her face and her hands hidden under her apron. She looked all that was demure and polite, but under that shell was a saucy wench. He smiled and winked at the maid then turned his eye to Lord Q, across the hall, speaking with none other than Lord K, the chief general of the king’s armies.
Lord K was tall dark and handsome. His black hair was just as thick as the Fair Prince’s, although cropped short and wild, as if forever tasseled by the wind. His grin was quick, but could do nothing to hide the cruel glint in his eyes.
While Faris found the general attractive, he would never invite him to his bed. In the dark of night, alone or with another, he would often imagine Lord K under him, face flushed with mutual pleasure. Just the image of Lord K’s legs around his hips, the idea of his lips parted as gasps filled an otherwise silent night sent jolts of desire to his groin.
As much as his features were pleasing to Faris, he would not be dominated by any man. Instead, tonight he would court Lord Q into a few hours of pleasure. His wife wouldn’t miss him, and he won’t miss his wife when Faris sought her out later.
It wasn’t until later, when he was pressing Lord Q back onto the bed, that he had a sudden vision, a desire, for golden brown hair and green eyes. Startled, he pulled away to stare down at Lord Q’s flaxen hair and flushed features. He wanted the third prince.
Shaking his head, hoping to knock such notions from his mind, he resumed kissing the flesh exposed to him, but wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine that wafted from Lord Q’s lips. Thinking, what would it hurt? he closed his eyes and imagined it was the Fair Prince under him. What would he be like as a lover? Was he untried? Did he have a secret love affair that none knew about? Would he shiver with every touch to his fair skin, or would he be aggressive in his love making? He wondered if Mirza would scream when he entered him. Desire shivered through him as he allowed Lord Q to play substitute for Fair Prince Mirza.
He didn’t even think about going to Lady Q after that. The woman was blond and plump and entirely not what Faris had a sudden desire for.
Calling himself every kind of a fool, he went back to the rose garden. It was empty of course, the scent of roses nearly overpowering. Even the light in the room above was out, leaving Faris alone in the dark. Least he be sighted, he quickly quit the garden and sought out the release brought about by finding the bottom of a mug, or more, of mead.
*
With the dawn, Mirza was found in the kitchens, sneaking slices of fresh and warm buttery bread from behind the cook’s back. He’d no doubt that the woman knew of his antics, but it still brought a smile to his face every time she caught him and chased him from her domain. She was one of the few people that didn’t see only his royal blood. Instead, she saw a boy craving for attention and affection. Licking his fingers, Mirza walked to the stables and fed his mare an apple from a barrel. The horse nickered at him and butted him with her softly furred nose until he scratched between her eyes.
The air was warm, marking for another hot day. He’d go swimming later, then, he decided, but first he wanted to see if his experiment had produced any results. With one final pat to the mare’s nose, he returned inside via the kitchen to acquire another piece of bread. His eyes lit up when he saw that the bread had a glob of fruit preserves on top. Snagging the bread, he kissed the air near the cook’s cheek, making her snap her towel at him as he retreated.
The library was deserted, which was how he expected it. The was only four people besides himself that could read, one being his father and another being the monk from the church of the true god. The other two were lords of the realm who chose to make their summer home at the castle on his father’s generosity. Although they could read, they all felt that it was a worthless pursuit better suited to monks. Brother F was well read, having come from overseas where nearly everybody of note could read. It was he that taught Mirza to read, much to the queen’s everlasting shame.
Mirza never gained the ability to copy the art found in books, so he had given up on being a scholar and settled for soaking up the words the books gave up. He’d read the four books his father had acquired over the years and dearly wished for more. Brother F told him stories of his homeland and how they had libraries that put his father’s to shame. Mirza had dreamed of visiting that land, but had to put those dreams aside as well when his father declared unadulterated hatred for their king and queen.
With a sigh, Mirza settled into a dull and boring life, and he wasn’t disappointed.
He pushed open the door to the library and took a moment to bask in the bright light shining through the stained glass window. Vivid purples and deep greens painted a scene of paradises and hells. The floor was spotted with reds and yellows and Mirza was sure that every color that there ever was could be found in these three windows and on the floor when the sun was just right. His favorite was at just before dusk, when the sun was in the west and rays of light lit up the lower panels, shining their colors on the ceiling.
There was an intense silence in the library as if nothing from the outside world could impugn in serene silence. Which Mirza knew could never be true. He’d been dragged from this room too many times by his mother and brothers.
He walked the distance to the window, smiling as multicolored lights nearly blinded him. The room was still cool, but was quickly heating up with the oncoming of the day. Just inside the rays of light, a glass jar sat, top side down. Under the glass was a small mill, sitting on it’s side so that the wings were perpendicular to the table it sat on. He leaned down to be on eye level and grinned as he saw the mill slowly turning. He felt a rush of joy as the experiment proved a success.
He put his palm around the glass, feeling the warmth from the sun on the glass. It wasn’t all that warm, but as the day grew, so too would the heat. Perhaps it would move faster. If it did, mayhap he could make it bigger and see about building a flying contraption. He smiled at his own fancies and turned away after making sure the glass was safe from the edge of the table. Situated just under the window should allow it to warm all day long. He wondered if it would contain heat throughout the night and continue spinning. Maybe he could even attach the thing to a real mill and use the heat of the sun to grind flour.
Frowning, he walked out of the library and turned his feet toward his mother’s solar, his thoughts still on the contraption. The river near the village was dwindling and becoming fouled by the mill upstream of the village. Why they had put the mill there, he’d never know, but the people had learned long ago not to drink the water. If he could convince his father to move the mill, it would improve the general heath of the people, but his father refused to spend the tax money on the people he governed. With a heavy heart, Mirza doubted that he’d ever convince his father that it was his wealth that depended on their health. To the king, peasants were nothing and hardly worth the bother. War and parties were the important things in the castle, and woe to any who tried to convince the king otherwise.
He came down the stairs, his eyes on the hard grey stone under his feet and didn’t see the man coming up the stairs. They nearly collided and Mirza was saved from falling only by the other man’s quick reflexes. He looked up and stuttered in surprise.
“L-lord K! Please forgive me, I wasn’t watching.”
“Oh, no, your majesty. The fault is all mine.” That irritated Mirza. Clearly it had been his fault, but because he was a prince, they would not hear of him taking any blame. He bet that they placed blame aplenty on him when his back was turned.
He smiled over his irritation and struck a quick bow. The quicker away from Lord K he was, the better off he was. The man was hard and cold. His eyes were icy blue, nearly without emotion. They had always sent chills down Mirza’s back. Nor did he like the way the man watched him when he thought he wasn’t looking. He had quickly learned to avoid the chief general. Taking extra care to step to one side, Mirza nodded at the other man’s courtly bow and quickly escaped down the stairwell.
Once on the ground floor, he rubbed his hands down his arms and tried to brush off his encounter with Lord K. His mother required that all of her children greet her in the mornings by breaking their fast together. While he didn’t get along well with his father, he did so with the rest of his family. His two older brothers were amiable enough and his sister was too full of thoughts of dresses and jewels to pay him much heed, but they never fought as long as he stayed out of her way. His two younger brothers were still children and still too separated from the rest of castle life to have created any false bigotries against him, unlike the spoilt nobles of the court.
He greeted his mother with a kiss to her hand and cheek as she was distracted by his youngest brother. Smiling fondly at the little one with his mop of black hair, Mirza took his own seat and let a servant serve him.
His brothers were talking about hunting up north, and for a moment Mirza froze, panic setting in. Then he heard they were going toward the fields near Lord C’s keep, many miles away and Mirza relaxed, although he did his best not to let the others see his reaction. Lord C’s keep was far past the river, and one took the path to get to the bridge that lead to his lands. It would take them several miles away from the curve in the river. It would be a two day trip and Mirza declined the invitation thrown his direction. Not that they had expected him to accept. They would have probably been stunned and then irate if he had accepted.
His sister and mother had turned toward each other and were inspecting a veil that his sister was in the midst of sewing. They were quickly becoming engrossed in their topic and the princes all excused themselves, save for the youngest who had a nursemaid to usher him away.
Mirza took his time walking up to the parapet. From there one could see quite a distance. The sight of the river was blocked only by the thick canopy of the forest. Beyond that the village, and beyond that, the river as it curved around yet again. Mirza leaned against the stone of the wall and let the breeze lift his hair from his shoulders. With the heat this intense, the breeze was wonderful and he felt that he could sit here all day if life would let him.
A solider stopped beside him and leaned against the stone with him. For a long moment they said nothing, until a bird called above them. Mirza looked up with a smile as he recognized his bother’s falcon.
“Another hunt so soon?”
“They find it pleasing.”
The guard tilted his head to peer at the prince. “And why do you never go with, sire? You’re a master horseman, and you shoot a straight arrow.”
Mirza laughed. “True that may be, but my bothers are much older than me. They think of my as a child still.”
The guard laughed. “If they only knew.”
“If only they knew,” Mirza agreed. He shuffled in his tunic’s pocket and produced a small leather bag. “For your wife’s pain. Brother F swears by it.”
“Thank you, Prince. I don’t know what would have come of her and the babe, if it weren’t for you.”
Mirza shook his head. “It is the least I could do after Father raised the taxes yet again.”
Suddenly the guard stood at attention and offered Mirza a deep bow. “Sire, you would make a great king.”
Mirza smiled sadly. “I just don’t have what it takes.”
“But you do!”
“Nor would I ever have the chance, or have you forgotten that my eldest brother has a son now?”
The guard nodded stiffly. “Even so, you would make a great king. The people are very grateful to you for all you’ve done for us.”
Mirza raised a hand to shush him, with a look over his shoulder. “Be careful of your words, man. You speak of treason.” He spun on his heel and marched down the parapet to the grand doors of the castle. He wouldn’t make a good king. He was too kind, as his father was wont to tell him. He would try to solve all the world’s problems and, in the end, only end up hurting himself.
He had agreed, for he had seen what his kind nature had done to him before. He’d trusted and believed in people when they had spoken so sweetly to his face. Then he’d learned that not everybody was wholesome at heart. He’d learned his lesson and took it all in stride.
There were those that tired to be honest and those that didn’t even bother. There were those that faked it, and faked it well. He’d learned about all types of people and learned how to manipulate them in turn. His father was arrogant and snobbish. Thus Mirza had learned to keep his thoughts regarding the running of the kingdom to himself and to act on what he could change, even though it was only a little.
His siblings paid him no heed, leaving him with only the servants to deal with. That was easily done, for he had been a rambunctious child and the older servants loved him. He loved them in turn and felt more at home in the kitchens than in the castle.
As he made his way down a dark hall, he allowed his thoughts to be overcome with plans still in the making. There were things he still needed to acquire. Sneaking food from the kitchens was becoming a problem, so he was going to have to start hunting on his own. Distracted by these thoughts, he once again failed to notice the person before him until it was almost too late. Luckily, this time he saw the man’s boots before he crashed into him. Stumbling to a halt, Mirza looked up to see the knight Faris exiting a chamber that wasn’t his own. Mirza’s lips tightened, but he’d long ago learned to hold his tongue.
Sir Faris caught sight of him and smiled pleasantly. He bowed, which Mirza accepted with a nod. Mirza walked around him and continued on his way, and thus didn’t see the other man remain where he was, nor the way the knight’s eyes followed him.
Mirza didn’t particularly like Sir Faris, he was too flighty for being a knight and all. The man was a good knight, but he was wishy-washy and it annoyed Mirza every time he saw the man. He refused to accept the idea that he was attracted to the smoky grey eyes and black wavy hair, although, whenever he saw that man, his heart did thump loudly in his ears, and he was ever so sure there was a blush on his cheeks.
Shaking his head, he found his way to the stables and ordered his mare prepared. What was the man doing in her room this late in the morning anyway? He growled and stomped his foot, hating himself for thinking of the knight when there were other, more important things that should be occupying his mind.
One the mare was saddled, he put the saddle bags on himself and mounted. With a click of his tongue, he urged the horse forward and out of the gate.
*
Faris decided that he would have the Fair Prince.
As much as the prince ignored him, Faris was sure that there was something there. The way the other boy stiffened whenever he was near, the way he resolutely refused to meet his gaze and how he always made a hasty retreat. It all pointed to there being something between them.
An attraction. Well, on the prince’s part. Faris hadn’t really noticed him until the night of the party, but now that he had, he couldn’t get the prince out of his thoughts.
He wanted the prince.
After bathing and dressing for the day, Faris went to the training grounds. Several knights were already there, with pages running with cool drinks and towels, armor and shields. Sir Faris motioned his own page to fetch his armor and walked up the parapet to gaze at the landscape surrounding the castle. The wind was high and tasseled his hair. He smiled up into the wind, letting it have its way.
Just under him, to the left, the gates opened and a single horseman rode out at a canter. He spotted the Fair Prince on his mare, cloak bellowing in the wind as his horse cantered down the path. Sir Faris leaned over the guard wall to get a better look. It was widely known that the prince took a daily ride, and Faris wondered at his destination. He passed the village, a mere speck on the road.. The only thing out there was the lake, then beyond that Lord C’s lands and keep. He watched him retreat for a moment before an idea suddenly came to him.
He brushed past his page in search of the stables and quickly exchanged a coin for information. The stable lad didn’t know the prince’s destination either, but estimated that he spent several hours a day out on horseback. Faris ordered to be informed on the prince’s return and returned himself to the training yard. He allowed his page to strap him into his practice armor and picked up his sword. He joined the other knights in their training, taking the gathered audience as a plus. If it brought a partner to his bed, showing off his skill and body was well worth it.
Lady O’s cousins, Lord and Lady T, had arrived from the country. Lady T was in the stands, watching the men as her man talked with others. The wind fought with her hair, tugging it out of her pins and whipping it against her face. Her eyes were hungry as she surveyed the men practicing on the field, and, more importantly, they were green. Faris winked at her when her eyes landed on him and she allowed a slow, luscious smile to grace her lips in return. Then she turned her back on the field, only a small glance proof that she had noticed him. Her eyes raked down his body as her arms settled around her husband’s. Faris smiled, knowing that he wasn’t going to spend this night alone.
A few hours later, as he was sitting in the shade, drinking something cool, the stable lad came up to him to inform him that the prince had returned. With a nod, Sir Faris strolled leisurely toward the stables and caught the Fair Prince as he was exiting. Indeed, his hair was wet and hanging down his back, soaking his tunic. He bowed politely to the prince.
Mirza paused in his walking, his eyes frantic as they caught sight of him. The tips of his ears, exposed by his hair, turned a charming shade of red and he nodded to Sir Faris. Then he made quick on his escape. Chuckling, Sir Faris continued on toward the stable to make arrangements for tomorrow. Afterwards, he sought out Lady T to secure her company for the night.
*
The king had ordered a council. The whole of his advisors and a few of his higher ranking knights were all enclosed with him in his war room. Mirza paced the space just beyond the door, his hands clutched tightly behind him as his eyes followed his feet along the floor. There was nothing to be heard through the solid door, and Mirza had given up trying a long time ago.
His brothers had yet to return from their hunt, and weren’t expected back until nearly tomorrow, so there was nobody there to watch him worry. And worry he did. There were no enemy countries making war on them, and there were no riots starting within their own kingdom. There was only one reason for the king to summon his war council.
He was going to hunt his own people.
For the past few years, the king had raised the taxes repeatedly, until his people were too poor to live off his land. They couldn’t go to a new kingdom, serfs as they were. They went hungry and they were soon overcome with helplessness and hopelessness. Their land produced less and less as the people grew too weak with illnesses who’s medicine they couldn’t afford. The kingdom was suffering and the king chose to ignore the suffering of his people.
So Mirza had taken things into his own hands.
He’d convinced a few people to escape the watchful eye of the king’s men and live in the forests where they couldn’t be found. He brought them food as he could, even hunted some. He tried to have them taught to live in secret and on their own, without an overlord taking their lives for granted.
Because of his actions, the kingdom suffered even more, and the king had finally noticed. Nearly half of his own village had gone missing. The taxes weren’t being paid due to nobody to work the land. The parties of the castle were being postponed due to there being not enough food, beer. Now the king was going to take action against his people.
Last winter when a village several days’ ride away tried to riot, he had the men put in chains and their houses burnt down. Mirza didn’t want to know what his father would do to those that were from his own royal village when, if, he found them.
There had been rumors of people living in the forests, as much as Mirza had tried to waylay them, the king now was going to hunt them down and tie them to his land once again. Mirza feared that there was nothing further to do for them. Their time was growing short, and every day was growing to be more dangerous for them all.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he really wished that he knew what his father was planning. Did they know where the villagers were hiding? Did he know what part his son played in it?
Suddenly unable to contain himself, he ordered his horse prepared and went to his rooms to change. He would go to the renegades and warn them. He was pulling on his riding boots when he remembered to grab his bow and arrow to hunt some meat for the villagers. While they did have hunters among them, they were living in the king’s forest and it really wouldn’t go over well if they were caught killing the king’s game.
He quickly made his was to the lake. The day was wonderfully bright and warm. The sun was out with only an occasional puffy white cloud to mar it’s vast empire of blue. He and the mare walked a path to the lake hidden in the forest, basking in nature’s silence. Birds chirped above and critters scampered about below.
Mirza loved the solitude. Here there was no pressure to be always perfect and polite to the arrogant and snobbish. One was hard pressed to find snobbish in the wild. Dismounting, he led the horse along the bank. Just ahead was his destination. Small ribbons of smoke threaded their way through the trunks of the trees, making his guts wrench with worry. There was yet another thing for him to remind them to be wary of. He’d warned them against cooking fires, to make sure they had only the bare minimum. This much smoke wouldn’t go unnoticed.
He looped the mare’s reigns over a low branch, making she had plenty of reach. And sat to pull off his boots and over tunic. These he folded next to the tree. He kept his short sword, but put his dagger on top of the clothes. He put his bow and arrows over his shoulder and smiled ruefully at himself. He was complaining of cooking fires while bringing them meat to cook. With a final pat to the mare’s muzzle, he was off.
The camp was hidden behind a bluff and surrounded by the river that fed the lake. When he approached, he nodded to the sentries he’d had placed on the outskirts of the camp to warn of intruders. He mentally shook his head at their incompetence.
These people were farmers, not soldiers and they couldn’t know the danger their own king put them in. Yet another thing for him to preach to them this day.
Mirza was welcomed into the camp with cries of greetings from the dozen or so half starved children. Grubby hands reached for the food he’d brought with him and he quickly handed it off to the women who followed the children with hollow eyes. Then he knelt to accept the hugs and kisses from the children, promising he’d stay long enough to play a game of Knights.
Marc had arrived by the time the children wandered off. He bowed lowly to his prince.
“Your majesty, welcome and thank you. Our children will eat well tonight.”
“If your smoke doesn’t call down the king’s men, that is.”
The elder man hesitated, fear entering his eyes. “We need the fires.”
“Not this many. Have your people group together, instead of each family having their own fire. Cook the food at night and preserve what you can in the river. The cold will keep it fresh a bit longer in place of salt. I’ll see what I can do about getting more.”
“It is too much, sire. We should go back home and live as we were meant to.”
Mirza glared. “As slaves?”
Marc shrugged. “If that is how it is meant to be.”
Suddenly angry, Mirza stalked away and allowed himself to be crowded by the children. Their youth and easy laughter eased his anxiety and by the time he decided to leave, he was not half as angry. He spoke with the men, warning them to be more aware, as the king was planning something. Their eyes were clouded with worry and pain as their hopes were quickly diminishing.
Sighing, he walked back to his horse. What more could he do, save than overthrowing his father, two older brothers, and a young nephew?
His horse greeted him with a whinny and he patted her nose. Eye on the lake, he decided that he was going to swim a bit before returning to the hot castle and his worries. He disrobed and dived into the water, the cold taking his breath away as he was completely submerged.
If his father decided to act against the peasants, then there really was no hope. His will was legendary, his anger unrivaled. Mirza had fear for the people, for who could know what the king would do in his rage.
Putting the thoughts from his mind, he swam to the deeper part of the lake, allowing the exercise to relax him. He hadn’t realized he’d been followed, so good of a hunter was his stalker, nor did he hear the splash behind him. It wasn’t until he emerged from the water, gasping for breath, that he discovered he wasn’t alone.
*
Faris had waited for the Fair Prince to get a ways away from him before he followed. It wouldn’t do to have the prince aware that he was being followed. The boy rode his horse well, his eyes never leaving the path before him, which proved to be fateful for him.
When he only took off his over tunic and boots before leaving the lake, Faris felt an intense jealously rise up within him at the thought that the prince had come this far to meet in secret with someone. Probably a lover. With a tightened jaw, Sir Faris stealthily followed.
He’d heard of the king’s people hiding from him, along with everybody else in the rumor mill. He had never thought that the third prince would be the one behind it all. It made sense, though. The boy was too kind by far.
He hunted down a few birds and gave them to the poor people, his arrows still in them to free them of any wrongdoings. Smiling at the prince’s innocence, Faris watched him play with the children, all the while easily dodging the so called guards.
When the prince left the camp, Sir Faris followed and eagerly watched him disrobe and plunge into the water.
This worked out perfectly. Before, his plan had been to catch the boy unawares and press him into a sexual relation, but now he had something to hang over the boy. It wasn’t really force, as the prince already had a reaction to him, it would just be the final thing to push him into Faris’ arms.
He pulled off his clothes and joined the prince in the cold water, swimming up to him and startling him. At first, he acted as if it were no big thing, meeting him in the lake. He bowed, ever so politely.
Mirza couldn’t touch the bottom, so he slowly swam toward the knight. He still left a large distance between them, his eyes never leaving the other man. After a brief shallow bow, Sir Faris seemingly ignored him. Relaxing a bit, Mirza treaded away from the man, toward his clothes on the bank.
He heard a splash behind him and paused long enough to look back and find Sir Faris gone. Likely submerged. He considered remaining, if the other man was going to stay away from him, but decided against it. He like his solitude a little too much.
His feet finally touched bottom and he was shocked into emitting a short shout when a pair of strong arms encircled his shoulders and chest from behind. As he thrashed against the hold, Sir Faris quickly pinned his arms to his sides. When the knight licked his cheek, Mirza froze, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He felt Sir Faris chuckle behind him.
“What, what do you want?”
Sir Faris’ hands smoothed up and down his arms, his fingers lightly brushing the skin of his waist. His hands came up to grasp at Faris in another attempt to free himself. His body was betraying him, as it reacted to the closeness of the other man.
“I wanted to warn you.” Again did Mirza shiver. Sir Fairs’ voice was low, his breath hot in his ear. His body was solid and warm in the cold water where it pressed against his own.
Mirza’s breath was strained and sound weak even to his own ears. He had to wet his lips twice before he could speak without embarrassing himself. “What do you seek to warn me of, Sir?”
“Someone has seen your secret.” He leaned closer, close enough to brush his lips against the soft skin of Mirza’s ear. “I followed you and know your secret.”
Frightened, Mirza struggled against him. The man was just too strong. Then, with a sudden realization as their bodies brushed erotically together, he discovered that the knight was as naked as he was. A blush stole over his cheeks as he felt Sir Faris’ member react against his lower back.
Sir Faris’ hands slipped lower, tickling at his stomach and Mirza caught them, frantic. “D-don’t.”
Sir Faris’ grip tightened. “Are you not going to ask the price for my silence?”
“I have a feeling I already know,” he snapped through clenched teeth. Sir Faris smiled and pressed his lips to Mirza’s shoulder.
“Then, are you willing to pay?”
Struggling with his anger, Mirza nodded. After all, it was a small price to pay to protect the people, the poor, the starving, even if it were only for a little while more. It was either give himself to Sir Faris, or sign the death warrant for those people, and, mayhap, himself as well.
Fandom: original
Prompt: Entice
Warnings: Product may contain traces of yaoi.
Rating: M for mature.
Summary: A prince tries to help his people while a knight tries to have fun without a care.
He was brushing his hair.
It was such a woman’s thing to do and it really didn’t come as a surprise. His hair was long, thick and a soft golden brown, just the sort of luscious hair that women would kill to have. The moon glimmered on its surface as he passed the brush through the strands and over his shoulder. The prince’s eyes were closed, and his lips had only the smallest of smiles gracing them, and serenity all but dripped off him as he sat alone in the deserted part of his mother’s rose garden. A small pool of light from the balcony above him spilled over the walk, stopping just at his bare toes curled in the grass. The clothes he wore were masculine enough, but with his thin and lithe body, the young prince could easily pass for a young woman.
He was not the tallest of the princes, but, given the stature of the younger boys now, it wouldn’t take them long to overcome their older brother. While the four other princes took after their father, it was Mirza alone that took after their mother. The brown hair and green eyes were so like the queen’s that many had awed over him as a babe. Now that he’d reached his maturity, those same people despaired of him achieving aught beyond the books that held most of the hours of his day.
The third prince was too small to make good use of the broadswords their culture favored, nor was he well adjusted to the going ons of the cabinet and court. At an early age he had closed himself into the library, well equipped with a grand total of four books, and emerged only for food and upon demand from the royal parents.
This was one of the few times Faris had seen the prince away from his inks and parchment. That came as a surprise, even if his choice of hiding place was well chosen. If one were to merely glance over the wall of rose bushes, one would nearly miss the young prince, and that was probably just as well. Mirza was never very well around guests. Despite his mother’s reprimands, he still insisted on lowering his gaze while in the presence of others, or making single syllable comments when forced to make polite. His mother despaired and finally threw her hands up and left him to his own devices.
Which seemed to be brushing his hair in the moonlight while the rest of the castle partied.
Although Faris had heard the rumors of the Fair Prince, he’d not paid them much heed, for his attention was consumed with things within his reach. When he’d arrived three years ago, his mind had been all for gaining the king’s favor and his spurs. Once safely knighted, he’d turned his eye to the idle ladies. Tupping was a sport for the royal court, the goal not to be caught by irate husbands. Not that Faris had many irate husbands leave in the same state.
Faris watched the prince for a while longer before behind called from behind to attend the party in full swing. He vaguely wondered why the third prince never attended the parties thrown in his family’s honor, but was quickly distracted by the light laughter and wine being passed around. As he picked a flute from a passing servant, his eyes sought out a conquest for the night.
Perhaps he would welcome the advances of the Lady Q finally. She had been hounding him for the past week, after he’d tossed her maid. Which brought his eyes to the woman standing beside Lady Q. Her hair was pulled away from her face and her hands hidden under her apron. She looked all that was demure and polite, but under that shell was a saucy wench. He smiled and winked at the maid then turned his eye to Lord Q, across the hall, speaking with none other than Lord K, the chief general of the king’s armies.
Lord K was tall dark and handsome. His black hair was just as thick as the Fair Prince’s, although cropped short and wild, as if forever tasseled by the wind. His grin was quick, but could do nothing to hide the cruel glint in his eyes.
While Faris found the general attractive, he would never invite him to his bed. In the dark of night, alone or with another, he would often imagine Lord K under him, face flushed with mutual pleasure. Just the image of Lord K’s legs around his hips, the idea of his lips parted as gasps filled an otherwise silent night sent jolts of desire to his groin.
As much as his features were pleasing to Faris, he would not be dominated by any man. Instead, tonight he would court Lord Q into a few hours of pleasure. His wife wouldn’t miss him, and he won’t miss his wife when Faris sought her out later.
It wasn’t until later, when he was pressing Lord Q back onto the bed, that he had a sudden vision, a desire, for golden brown hair and green eyes. Startled, he pulled away to stare down at Lord Q’s flaxen hair and flushed features. He wanted the third prince.
Shaking his head, hoping to knock such notions from his mind, he resumed kissing the flesh exposed to him, but wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine that wafted from Lord Q’s lips. Thinking, what would it hurt? he closed his eyes and imagined it was the Fair Prince under him. What would he be like as a lover? Was he untried? Did he have a secret love affair that none knew about? Would he shiver with every touch to his fair skin, or would he be aggressive in his love making? He wondered if Mirza would scream when he entered him. Desire shivered through him as he allowed Lord Q to play substitute for Fair Prince Mirza.
He didn’t even think about going to Lady Q after that. The woman was blond and plump and entirely not what Faris had a sudden desire for.
Calling himself every kind of a fool, he went back to the rose garden. It was empty of course, the scent of roses nearly overpowering. Even the light in the room above was out, leaving Faris alone in the dark. Least he be sighted, he quickly quit the garden and sought out the release brought about by finding the bottom of a mug, or more, of mead.
*
With the dawn, Mirza was found in the kitchens, sneaking slices of fresh and warm buttery bread from behind the cook’s back. He’d no doubt that the woman knew of his antics, but it still brought a smile to his face every time she caught him and chased him from her domain. She was one of the few people that didn’t see only his royal blood. Instead, she saw a boy craving for attention and affection. Licking his fingers, Mirza walked to the stables and fed his mare an apple from a barrel. The horse nickered at him and butted him with her softly furred nose until he scratched between her eyes.
The air was warm, marking for another hot day. He’d go swimming later, then, he decided, but first he wanted to see if his experiment had produced any results. With one final pat to the mare’s nose, he returned inside via the kitchen to acquire another piece of bread. His eyes lit up when he saw that the bread had a glob of fruit preserves on top. Snagging the bread, he kissed the air near the cook’s cheek, making her snap her towel at him as he retreated.
The library was deserted, which was how he expected it. The was only four people besides himself that could read, one being his father and another being the monk from the church of the true god. The other two were lords of the realm who chose to make their summer home at the castle on his father’s generosity. Although they could read, they all felt that it was a worthless pursuit better suited to monks. Brother F was well read, having come from overseas where nearly everybody of note could read. It was he that taught Mirza to read, much to the queen’s everlasting shame.
Mirza never gained the ability to copy the art found in books, so he had given up on being a scholar and settled for soaking up the words the books gave up. He’d read the four books his father had acquired over the years and dearly wished for more. Brother F told him stories of his homeland and how they had libraries that put his father’s to shame. Mirza had dreamed of visiting that land, but had to put those dreams aside as well when his father declared unadulterated hatred for their king and queen.
With a sigh, Mirza settled into a dull and boring life, and he wasn’t disappointed.
He pushed open the door to the library and took a moment to bask in the bright light shining through the stained glass window. Vivid purples and deep greens painted a scene of paradises and hells. The floor was spotted with reds and yellows and Mirza was sure that every color that there ever was could be found in these three windows and on the floor when the sun was just right. His favorite was at just before dusk, when the sun was in the west and rays of light lit up the lower panels, shining their colors on the ceiling.
There was an intense silence in the library as if nothing from the outside world could impugn in serene silence. Which Mirza knew could never be true. He’d been dragged from this room too many times by his mother and brothers.
He walked the distance to the window, smiling as multicolored lights nearly blinded him. The room was still cool, but was quickly heating up with the oncoming of the day. Just inside the rays of light, a glass jar sat, top side down. Under the glass was a small mill, sitting on it’s side so that the wings were perpendicular to the table it sat on. He leaned down to be on eye level and grinned as he saw the mill slowly turning. He felt a rush of joy as the experiment proved a success.
He put his palm around the glass, feeling the warmth from the sun on the glass. It wasn’t all that warm, but as the day grew, so too would the heat. Perhaps it would move faster. If it did, mayhap he could make it bigger and see about building a flying contraption. He smiled at his own fancies and turned away after making sure the glass was safe from the edge of the table. Situated just under the window should allow it to warm all day long. He wondered if it would contain heat throughout the night and continue spinning. Maybe he could even attach the thing to a real mill and use the heat of the sun to grind flour.
Frowning, he walked out of the library and turned his feet toward his mother’s solar, his thoughts still on the contraption. The river near the village was dwindling and becoming fouled by the mill upstream of the village. Why they had put the mill there, he’d never know, but the people had learned long ago not to drink the water. If he could convince his father to move the mill, it would improve the general heath of the people, but his father refused to spend the tax money on the people he governed. With a heavy heart, Mirza doubted that he’d ever convince his father that it was his wealth that depended on their health. To the king, peasants were nothing and hardly worth the bother. War and parties were the important things in the castle, and woe to any who tried to convince the king otherwise.
He came down the stairs, his eyes on the hard grey stone under his feet and didn’t see the man coming up the stairs. They nearly collided and Mirza was saved from falling only by the other man’s quick reflexes. He looked up and stuttered in surprise.
“L-lord K! Please forgive me, I wasn’t watching.”
“Oh, no, your majesty. The fault is all mine.” That irritated Mirza. Clearly it had been his fault, but because he was a prince, they would not hear of him taking any blame. He bet that they placed blame aplenty on him when his back was turned.
He smiled over his irritation and struck a quick bow. The quicker away from Lord K he was, the better off he was. The man was hard and cold. His eyes were icy blue, nearly without emotion. They had always sent chills down Mirza’s back. Nor did he like the way the man watched him when he thought he wasn’t looking. He had quickly learned to avoid the chief general. Taking extra care to step to one side, Mirza nodded at the other man’s courtly bow and quickly escaped down the stairwell.
Once on the ground floor, he rubbed his hands down his arms and tried to brush off his encounter with Lord K. His mother required that all of her children greet her in the mornings by breaking their fast together. While he didn’t get along well with his father, he did so with the rest of his family. His two older brothers were amiable enough and his sister was too full of thoughts of dresses and jewels to pay him much heed, but they never fought as long as he stayed out of her way. His two younger brothers were still children and still too separated from the rest of castle life to have created any false bigotries against him, unlike the spoilt nobles of the court.
He greeted his mother with a kiss to her hand and cheek as she was distracted by his youngest brother. Smiling fondly at the little one with his mop of black hair, Mirza took his own seat and let a servant serve him.
His brothers were talking about hunting up north, and for a moment Mirza froze, panic setting in. Then he heard they were going toward the fields near Lord C’s keep, many miles away and Mirza relaxed, although he did his best not to let the others see his reaction. Lord C’s keep was far past the river, and one took the path to get to the bridge that lead to his lands. It would take them several miles away from the curve in the river. It would be a two day trip and Mirza declined the invitation thrown his direction. Not that they had expected him to accept. They would have probably been stunned and then irate if he had accepted.
His sister and mother had turned toward each other and were inspecting a veil that his sister was in the midst of sewing. They were quickly becoming engrossed in their topic and the princes all excused themselves, save for the youngest who had a nursemaid to usher him away.
Mirza took his time walking up to the parapet. From there one could see quite a distance. The sight of the river was blocked only by the thick canopy of the forest. Beyond that the village, and beyond that, the river as it curved around yet again. Mirza leaned against the stone of the wall and let the breeze lift his hair from his shoulders. With the heat this intense, the breeze was wonderful and he felt that he could sit here all day if life would let him.
A solider stopped beside him and leaned against the stone with him. For a long moment they said nothing, until a bird called above them. Mirza looked up with a smile as he recognized his bother’s falcon.
“Another hunt so soon?”
“They find it pleasing.”
The guard tilted his head to peer at the prince. “And why do you never go with, sire? You’re a master horseman, and you shoot a straight arrow.”
Mirza laughed. “True that may be, but my bothers are much older than me. They think of my as a child still.”
The guard laughed. “If they only knew.”
“If only they knew,” Mirza agreed. He shuffled in his tunic’s pocket and produced a small leather bag. “For your wife’s pain. Brother F swears by it.”
“Thank you, Prince. I don’t know what would have come of her and the babe, if it weren’t for you.”
Mirza shook his head. “It is the least I could do after Father raised the taxes yet again.”
Suddenly the guard stood at attention and offered Mirza a deep bow. “Sire, you would make a great king.”
Mirza smiled sadly. “I just don’t have what it takes.”
“But you do!”
“Nor would I ever have the chance, or have you forgotten that my eldest brother has a son now?”
The guard nodded stiffly. “Even so, you would make a great king. The people are very grateful to you for all you’ve done for us.”
Mirza raised a hand to shush him, with a look over his shoulder. “Be careful of your words, man. You speak of treason.” He spun on his heel and marched down the parapet to the grand doors of the castle. He wouldn’t make a good king. He was too kind, as his father was wont to tell him. He would try to solve all the world’s problems and, in the end, only end up hurting himself.
He had agreed, for he had seen what his kind nature had done to him before. He’d trusted and believed in people when they had spoken so sweetly to his face. Then he’d learned that not everybody was wholesome at heart. He’d learned his lesson and took it all in stride.
There were those that tired to be honest and those that didn’t even bother. There were those that faked it, and faked it well. He’d learned about all types of people and learned how to manipulate them in turn. His father was arrogant and snobbish. Thus Mirza had learned to keep his thoughts regarding the running of the kingdom to himself and to act on what he could change, even though it was only a little.
His siblings paid him no heed, leaving him with only the servants to deal with. That was easily done, for he had been a rambunctious child and the older servants loved him. He loved them in turn and felt more at home in the kitchens than in the castle.
As he made his way down a dark hall, he allowed his thoughts to be overcome with plans still in the making. There were things he still needed to acquire. Sneaking food from the kitchens was becoming a problem, so he was going to have to start hunting on his own. Distracted by these thoughts, he once again failed to notice the person before him until it was almost too late. Luckily, this time he saw the man’s boots before he crashed into him. Stumbling to a halt, Mirza looked up to see the knight Faris exiting a chamber that wasn’t his own. Mirza’s lips tightened, but he’d long ago learned to hold his tongue.
Sir Faris caught sight of him and smiled pleasantly. He bowed, which Mirza accepted with a nod. Mirza walked around him and continued on his way, and thus didn’t see the other man remain where he was, nor the way the knight’s eyes followed him.
Mirza didn’t particularly like Sir Faris, he was too flighty for being a knight and all. The man was a good knight, but he was wishy-washy and it annoyed Mirza every time he saw the man. He refused to accept the idea that he was attracted to the smoky grey eyes and black wavy hair, although, whenever he saw that man, his heart did thump loudly in his ears, and he was ever so sure there was a blush on his cheeks.
Shaking his head, he found his way to the stables and ordered his mare prepared. What was the man doing in her room this late in the morning anyway? He growled and stomped his foot, hating himself for thinking of the knight when there were other, more important things that should be occupying his mind.
One the mare was saddled, he put the saddle bags on himself and mounted. With a click of his tongue, he urged the horse forward and out of the gate.
*
Faris decided that he would have the Fair Prince.
As much as the prince ignored him, Faris was sure that there was something there. The way the other boy stiffened whenever he was near, the way he resolutely refused to meet his gaze and how he always made a hasty retreat. It all pointed to there being something between them.
An attraction. Well, on the prince’s part. Faris hadn’t really noticed him until the night of the party, but now that he had, he couldn’t get the prince out of his thoughts.
He wanted the prince.
After bathing and dressing for the day, Faris went to the training grounds. Several knights were already there, with pages running with cool drinks and towels, armor and shields. Sir Faris motioned his own page to fetch his armor and walked up the parapet to gaze at the landscape surrounding the castle. The wind was high and tasseled his hair. He smiled up into the wind, letting it have its way.
Just under him, to the left, the gates opened and a single horseman rode out at a canter. He spotted the Fair Prince on his mare, cloak bellowing in the wind as his horse cantered down the path. Sir Faris leaned over the guard wall to get a better look. It was widely known that the prince took a daily ride, and Faris wondered at his destination. He passed the village, a mere speck on the road.. The only thing out there was the lake, then beyond that Lord C’s lands and keep. He watched him retreat for a moment before an idea suddenly came to him.
He brushed past his page in search of the stables and quickly exchanged a coin for information. The stable lad didn’t know the prince’s destination either, but estimated that he spent several hours a day out on horseback. Faris ordered to be informed on the prince’s return and returned himself to the training yard. He allowed his page to strap him into his practice armor and picked up his sword. He joined the other knights in their training, taking the gathered audience as a plus. If it brought a partner to his bed, showing off his skill and body was well worth it.
Lady O’s cousins, Lord and Lady T, had arrived from the country. Lady T was in the stands, watching the men as her man talked with others. The wind fought with her hair, tugging it out of her pins and whipping it against her face. Her eyes were hungry as she surveyed the men practicing on the field, and, more importantly, they were green. Faris winked at her when her eyes landed on him and she allowed a slow, luscious smile to grace her lips in return. Then she turned her back on the field, only a small glance proof that she had noticed him. Her eyes raked down his body as her arms settled around her husband’s. Faris smiled, knowing that he wasn’t going to spend this night alone.
A few hours later, as he was sitting in the shade, drinking something cool, the stable lad came up to him to inform him that the prince had returned. With a nod, Sir Faris strolled leisurely toward the stables and caught the Fair Prince as he was exiting. Indeed, his hair was wet and hanging down his back, soaking his tunic. He bowed politely to the prince.
Mirza paused in his walking, his eyes frantic as they caught sight of him. The tips of his ears, exposed by his hair, turned a charming shade of red and he nodded to Sir Faris. Then he made quick on his escape. Chuckling, Sir Faris continued on toward the stable to make arrangements for tomorrow. Afterwards, he sought out Lady T to secure her company for the night.
*
The king had ordered a council. The whole of his advisors and a few of his higher ranking knights were all enclosed with him in his war room. Mirza paced the space just beyond the door, his hands clutched tightly behind him as his eyes followed his feet along the floor. There was nothing to be heard through the solid door, and Mirza had given up trying a long time ago.
His brothers had yet to return from their hunt, and weren’t expected back until nearly tomorrow, so there was nobody there to watch him worry. And worry he did. There were no enemy countries making war on them, and there were no riots starting within their own kingdom. There was only one reason for the king to summon his war council.
He was going to hunt his own people.
For the past few years, the king had raised the taxes repeatedly, until his people were too poor to live off his land. They couldn’t go to a new kingdom, serfs as they were. They went hungry and they were soon overcome with helplessness and hopelessness. Their land produced less and less as the people grew too weak with illnesses who’s medicine they couldn’t afford. The kingdom was suffering and the king chose to ignore the suffering of his people.
So Mirza had taken things into his own hands.
He’d convinced a few people to escape the watchful eye of the king’s men and live in the forests where they couldn’t be found. He brought them food as he could, even hunted some. He tried to have them taught to live in secret and on their own, without an overlord taking their lives for granted.
Because of his actions, the kingdom suffered even more, and the king had finally noticed. Nearly half of his own village had gone missing. The taxes weren’t being paid due to nobody to work the land. The parties of the castle were being postponed due to there being not enough food, beer. Now the king was going to take action against his people.
Last winter when a village several days’ ride away tried to riot, he had the men put in chains and their houses burnt down. Mirza didn’t want to know what his father would do to those that were from his own royal village when, if, he found them.
There had been rumors of people living in the forests, as much as Mirza had tried to waylay them, the king now was going to hunt them down and tie them to his land once again. Mirza feared that there was nothing further to do for them. Their time was growing short, and every day was growing to be more dangerous for them all.
Rubbing his hands over his face, he really wished that he knew what his father was planning. Did they know where the villagers were hiding? Did he know what part his son played in it?
Suddenly unable to contain himself, he ordered his horse prepared and went to his rooms to change. He would go to the renegades and warn them. He was pulling on his riding boots when he remembered to grab his bow and arrow to hunt some meat for the villagers. While they did have hunters among them, they were living in the king’s forest and it really wouldn’t go over well if they were caught killing the king’s game.
He quickly made his was to the lake. The day was wonderfully bright and warm. The sun was out with only an occasional puffy white cloud to mar it’s vast empire of blue. He and the mare walked a path to the lake hidden in the forest, basking in nature’s silence. Birds chirped above and critters scampered about below.
Mirza loved the solitude. Here there was no pressure to be always perfect and polite to the arrogant and snobbish. One was hard pressed to find snobbish in the wild. Dismounting, he led the horse along the bank. Just ahead was his destination. Small ribbons of smoke threaded their way through the trunks of the trees, making his guts wrench with worry. There was yet another thing for him to remind them to be wary of. He’d warned them against cooking fires, to make sure they had only the bare minimum. This much smoke wouldn’t go unnoticed.
He looped the mare’s reigns over a low branch, making she had plenty of reach. And sat to pull off his boots and over tunic. These he folded next to the tree. He kept his short sword, but put his dagger on top of the clothes. He put his bow and arrows over his shoulder and smiled ruefully at himself. He was complaining of cooking fires while bringing them meat to cook. With a final pat to the mare’s muzzle, he was off.
The camp was hidden behind a bluff and surrounded by the river that fed the lake. When he approached, he nodded to the sentries he’d had placed on the outskirts of the camp to warn of intruders. He mentally shook his head at their incompetence.
These people were farmers, not soldiers and they couldn’t know the danger their own king put them in. Yet another thing for him to preach to them this day.
Mirza was welcomed into the camp with cries of greetings from the dozen or so half starved children. Grubby hands reached for the food he’d brought with him and he quickly handed it off to the women who followed the children with hollow eyes. Then he knelt to accept the hugs and kisses from the children, promising he’d stay long enough to play a game of Knights.
Marc had arrived by the time the children wandered off. He bowed lowly to his prince.
“Your majesty, welcome and thank you. Our children will eat well tonight.”
“If your smoke doesn’t call down the king’s men, that is.”
The elder man hesitated, fear entering his eyes. “We need the fires.”
“Not this many. Have your people group together, instead of each family having their own fire. Cook the food at night and preserve what you can in the river. The cold will keep it fresh a bit longer in place of salt. I’ll see what I can do about getting more.”
“It is too much, sire. We should go back home and live as we were meant to.”
Mirza glared. “As slaves?”
Marc shrugged. “If that is how it is meant to be.”
Suddenly angry, Mirza stalked away and allowed himself to be crowded by the children. Their youth and easy laughter eased his anxiety and by the time he decided to leave, he was not half as angry. He spoke with the men, warning them to be more aware, as the king was planning something. Their eyes were clouded with worry and pain as their hopes were quickly diminishing.
Sighing, he walked back to his horse. What more could he do, save than overthrowing his father, two older brothers, and a young nephew?
His horse greeted him with a whinny and he patted her nose. Eye on the lake, he decided that he was going to swim a bit before returning to the hot castle and his worries. He disrobed and dived into the water, the cold taking his breath away as he was completely submerged.
If his father decided to act against the peasants, then there really was no hope. His will was legendary, his anger unrivaled. Mirza had fear for the people, for who could know what the king would do in his rage.
Putting the thoughts from his mind, he swam to the deeper part of the lake, allowing the exercise to relax him. He hadn’t realized he’d been followed, so good of a hunter was his stalker, nor did he hear the splash behind him. It wasn’t until he emerged from the water, gasping for breath, that he discovered he wasn’t alone.
*
Faris had waited for the Fair Prince to get a ways away from him before he followed. It wouldn’t do to have the prince aware that he was being followed. The boy rode his horse well, his eyes never leaving the path before him, which proved to be fateful for him.
When he only took off his over tunic and boots before leaving the lake, Faris felt an intense jealously rise up within him at the thought that the prince had come this far to meet in secret with someone. Probably a lover. With a tightened jaw, Sir Faris stealthily followed.
He’d heard of the king’s people hiding from him, along with everybody else in the rumor mill. He had never thought that the third prince would be the one behind it all. It made sense, though. The boy was too kind by far.
He hunted down a few birds and gave them to the poor people, his arrows still in them to free them of any wrongdoings. Smiling at the prince’s innocence, Faris watched him play with the children, all the while easily dodging the so called guards.
When the prince left the camp, Sir Faris followed and eagerly watched him disrobe and plunge into the water.
This worked out perfectly. Before, his plan had been to catch the boy unawares and press him into a sexual relation, but now he had something to hang over the boy. It wasn’t really force, as the prince already had a reaction to him, it would just be the final thing to push him into Faris’ arms.
He pulled off his clothes and joined the prince in the cold water, swimming up to him and startling him. At first, he acted as if it were no big thing, meeting him in the lake. He bowed, ever so politely.
Mirza couldn’t touch the bottom, so he slowly swam toward the knight. He still left a large distance between them, his eyes never leaving the other man. After a brief shallow bow, Sir Faris seemingly ignored him. Relaxing a bit, Mirza treaded away from the man, toward his clothes on the bank.
He heard a splash behind him and paused long enough to look back and find Sir Faris gone. Likely submerged. He considered remaining, if the other man was going to stay away from him, but decided against it. He like his solitude a little too much.
His feet finally touched bottom and he was shocked into emitting a short shout when a pair of strong arms encircled his shoulders and chest from behind. As he thrashed against the hold, Sir Faris quickly pinned his arms to his sides. When the knight licked his cheek, Mirza froze, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He felt Sir Faris chuckle behind him.
“What, what do you want?”
Sir Faris’ hands smoothed up and down his arms, his fingers lightly brushing the skin of his waist. His hands came up to grasp at Faris in another attempt to free himself. His body was betraying him, as it reacted to the closeness of the other man.
“I wanted to warn you.” Again did Mirza shiver. Sir Fairs’ voice was low, his breath hot in his ear. His body was solid and warm in the cold water where it pressed against his own.
Mirza’s breath was strained and sound weak even to his own ears. He had to wet his lips twice before he could speak without embarrassing himself. “What do you seek to warn me of, Sir?”
“Someone has seen your secret.” He leaned closer, close enough to brush his lips against the soft skin of Mirza’s ear. “I followed you and know your secret.”
Frightened, Mirza struggled against him. The man was just too strong. Then, with a sudden realization as their bodies brushed erotically together, he discovered that the knight was as naked as he was. A blush stole over his cheeks as he felt Sir Faris’ member react against his lower back.
Sir Faris’ hands slipped lower, tickling at his stomach and Mirza caught them, frantic. “D-don’t.”
Sir Faris’ grip tightened. “Are you not going to ask the price for my silence?”
“I have a feeling I already know,” he snapped through clenched teeth. Sir Faris smiled and pressed his lips to Mirza’s shoulder.
“Then, are you willing to pay?”
Struggling with his anger, Mirza nodded. After all, it was a small price to pay to protect the people, the poor, the starving, even if it were only for a little while more. It was either give himself to Sir Faris, or sign the death warrant for those people, and, mayhap, himself as well.