The Prince and The Scholar ||→WIP
Note: This is a story I've been planning for a while. I only have the first chapter finished, and no idea when I'll complete the second. But, enjoy! I welcome constructive criticism, and I L O V Ecomments. <3
Warning: Will eventually contain boyxboy. Just to warn ya~
-Part The First-
Prince Rythern's boots sounded loudly against the stone floor as he walked briskly down the castle’s main corridor. The King had sent word for him that morning instructing the Crown Prince to meet with him in the Throne Room just before midday.
It was now half-past midday.
His father was going to kill him.
Picking up his pace, Rythern cut a corner and then another till he spotted the golden doors of his destination at the end of the hall. He broke out into a run, earning a knowing smile from a passing servant. He halted just before the door, receiving a disapproving glower from the guard posted there.
“Good to see you too, Torenn,” the Prince chimed.
Torenn revered Rythern with little interest. “You’re late.”
“A Prince is never late,” Rythern replied cheekily.
The guard grunted. “Unless it is the King who requested his presence.”
Rythern smiled tightly.
“No matter…” Torenn muttered as he side stepped, his chainmail jangling while he pulled one of the large golden doors open.
Rythern straightened his back and smoothed out his short, spiky (quite unruly, really) black locks. “Here goes nothing…” he grumbled before entering the grand Throne Room. The golden door was promptly shut behind him with a loud thunk!
“Ah, so you finally decided to grace my presence, did you Rythern?” A loud, deep voice sounded from the opposite end of the room. “Do you always have to be this fashionably late?” The King of Galth inquired before he sighed in annoyed defeat.
The Crown Prince winced. By the tone of his father’s voice, he was a dead man walking. He strode forward with all the dignity he could muster. He stopped before his father and graced him with a low, respectful bow. “Of course, Sire,” a small smile twitched at the corners of the Prince’s lips as he stood.
The King was in his late forties, hair graying and wrinkles adorning his face in places tired and worn. However, even in this late stage of his life the man had an air of power and strength about him. Jade eyes held mirth as he gazed down at eldest son, Crown Prince Rythern of Galth. “I shouldn’t have expected less,” The old King chuckled. “Though, I do hope you rid yourself of that nasty habit when you become King.”
Rythern frowned slightly and then sighed inwardly. He knew this was why his father called him to the Throne Room—something that wasn’t common of his father. It was nearing his eighteenth birthday and his father was growing nervous. In Galth it was custom for the Crown Prince to complete a task that would prove his worth as the next King.
Rythern had yet to complete this required task.
Deciding being blunt was the best way to go about it, Rythern cleared his throat before asking, “Is this about my task to become the next king?”
“Yes,” the King’s answer was clipped and firm. Nervous. “It is. Have you decided on one yet?”
As a matter of fact, he had. However, it was likely to give his elder father a heart attack. Well, Rythern thought, amused. It can’t be helped, I suppose. “I have.”
Surprise flitted briefly across the King’s face but was quickly replaced by relief. “Well, out with it then!”
Rythern grinned. “I am going to slay the Black Dragon of the West.”
The King choked, sputtered and stared in wide eyed shock at is son. “You’re going to WHAT?!”
~~~
Idiocy, that's what it was.
His father had no cause to react that way he did. Certainly calling your own son foolish and demanding he come up with a different, less dangerous task to prove his worth as the next king was one thing; confining said son to the castle grounds was another. Frankly, Rythern was insulted. Did the King really think his son so weak? Apparently. The Prince grimaced. Shortly after the his declaration, the King had sent word to the castle guards that Prince Rythern was not allowed outside of the castle perimeter. Several failed escape attempts later, said Prince had to—grudgingly—acknowledge just how well the Royal Castle was guarded.
And now, Prince Rythern was at his wits end. Perhaps, he thought absently as he stared in boredom at the wall opposite of him. I should just blow off some steam. Standing abruptly, Rythern rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as he started down the long corridor. The Prince had always marveled at how easy it was to get lost in the very fortress that was to be his someday. All the corridors looked the same, save the many portraits of royalty long forgotten that hung crookedly from the cold stone walls. One portrait in particular caught Rythern’s gaze causing him to stop momentarily in his tracks.
The portrait was of a woman. She was beautiful, for lack of a better word. Her hair, black as night, hung loose at her sides, curling perfectly. Her face was ghostly pale, but not in an unattractive fashion.
And her eyes…
They were impossibly large, a clear blue, and fascinating in that they said so much, yet so little. Her thin pink lips curled upwards in a breathtaking smile. A breathtaking smile that was oddly pinched; this gave Rythern the notion she hadn’t wanted to sit still through the painting. And, oddly, that brought a smile to his face. She had such an air of defiance about her that the Crown Prince couldn’t help but feel connected to her. Even though she was just a painting and doubtlessly long dead.
“Her name was Lyna.”
Rythern jumped, startled. It took a moment for his eyes to register the face of his brother, Tyden, in the dim light of the corridor. It would be hard to mistake his brother for another even in the poor lighting as the boy was very small and sickly. His brown hair was pulled back into a short untidy ponytail; this, however, did little to distract an onlooker form the younger Prince’s face. His large green eyes were light with amusement, but the dark bags that resided under them only served to prove the boy’s bad health. “Tyden,” Rythern said softly, kindly. “What are you doing out of your chambers?”
The young prince looked affronted. “I could ask you the same. Didn’t father forbid you to leave the castle? Yet, here you are, roaming the only castle corridor that leads to the catacombs.” Rythern didn’t miss the knowing smirk that claimed his brother’s lips as his own mouth widened in understanding. Clever. He thought. Though, Tyden always has been.
“Truce?” He suggested hopefully.
Tyden hummed happily in reply, returning his gaze to the old portrait. An odd, whimsical expression took the younger prince’s face. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Yes, I suppose she is,” Rythern conceded, returning his gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Lyna, you said her name was?”
“Queen Lyna, a most enchanting character. She was Emrak’s first wife, before he married his second and last, Narisa,” Tyden murmured, eyes still fixed on the painting.
“What happened to her?”
Tyden bit his lip and tilted his small head to the side. “No one is quite sure. Record says she died of a sudden and rare disease. But, legend,” Tyden grinned slightly, “says otherwise.”
“Oh?” The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow. “And what do the legends say?”
“She fell in love with a beast.”
Rythern’s jade gaze turned skeptical. “A beast?”
Tyden’s tone was now amused. “A dragon, to be precise.”
“A dragon?” At such an absurd concept, Rythern laughed outright. “Unlikely. How would they consummate such love? Human and Beast?”
Mirth lit Tyden’s eyes. “She claimed he could take the shape of a man—that she was to bear his child. She left the court in disarray and Emrak with a broken heart. Though, who could blame him? She really was a beautiful woman. Emrak mourned her loss. And, to mead his broken heart and battered pride, he declared her dead—taken by some unrecorded disease,” he paused, “or so the legend goes.”
“Tyden,” Rythern said unevenly, struggling to keep in his laughter. “You’ve your head in far too many books. A human and a dragon? Hogwash!”
“You’d have your head in books as well if father confined you to your chambers day in and day out,” Tyden bit back sourly.
Immediately, Rythern’s features soften and he slung an arm over his younger, much smaller brother. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I must admit, if such a situation arose, I’d be rather bored.”
“You’d drive father positively mad with your impudence,” the young prince grinned. “Though, unlike me, you wouldn’t hole yourself away in the library. Likely, you’d practice sword fighting in the gardens whether father approved or not.”
Rythern grinned roguishly. “Of course. You would expect less?”
Tyden laughed. “Never.”
“Now, enough of this nonsense. Let’s get you back to your room.” Gently, Rythern seized the younger prince’s shoulder and pushed him forward.
The sickly prince sighed. “If you insist.”
“I do.” Satisfied, Rythern removed his hand from Tyden’s back and moved to stand beside him, walking absentmindedly in the direction of the younger prince’s chambers.
It wasn’t a long walk, for Tyden never got far before someone discovered he was roaming the corridors and quickly ushered him back into his room. On a good day, he managed to make it to library where he could read for hours undetected. “Here we are,” Rythern spoke, breaking Tyden from his daydreaming. “Your prison, nicely furnished.”
The younger prince had to grin at this. “Prison, indeed,” he murmured a bit sullenly, grin dropping from his face.
Rythern ruffled his brother’s hair. “Don’t look so horribly depressed. I’ll make sure you’ve the best outdoor experiences when I’m king. Your health be damned.”
He watched as Tyden tried to frown, to scold his him for disregarding his health in such an irresponsible way but, ultimately, failed. A small smile—so small, it was almost heartbreaking—formed on his lips instead and the smaller prince couldn’t keep the hope form his eyes. “I would like that very much.”
“But,” Rythern said suddenly as he forced his brother’s chamber door open and shuffled the boy inside, “for now you must spend your days in this weary prison. All the while I will be heading off to fight for my life in the wilderness and slay the almighty Black Dragon of the West.”
Tyden sent Rythern a sardonic look. “You’re so bold, oh noble Prince.”
He grinned. “I try.”
“Rythern,” Tyden spoke suddenly, his voice without its usual whimsical tone, face passive, withdrawn and his emerald eyes holding more warmth than usual for his brother. “Come back safely,” he breathed gently. “I’ve no desire to be king.”
The Crown Prince smiled crookedly. “Who said I had the intention of letting you be king?”
Tyden didn’t laugh. “I’m serious.”
With a sigh, Rythern reached awkwardly out towards his brother to bring him in for a one armed embrace. “I know,” he said, “but I’ve no intention of dying. And since you worry, I’ll take extra care.”
The smaller prince frowned as he wrestled out of his brother’s grip. Rythern could tell his brother didn’t at all believe him capable of keeping himself out of danger or trouble. Tyden pursed his lips. “You should take a Scholar, at the very least.”
“A Scholar?” Rythern snorted. “Why would I drag around such a useless person?”
An annoyed look graced Tyden’s face. “They aren’t useless. A Scholar with the field of study that focuses on Dragons would be a great help to you.”
“And a great hindrance.”
There it was again, Tyden’s trademark scowl. “A Scholar would be worth the trouble if you do really plan to take on the Black Dragon of the West. Intelligence goes a long way, brother.”
Rythern grinned. “As does strength, little brother.”
Tyden sighed, clearly agitated. “Just promise me, if you happen upon one, you will ask his assistance. Likely they’ll laugh in your face and call you a fool but if a Dragon is involved, he will offer his assistance.”
Rythern smiled sheepishly. “I am a fool,” he laughed, “but a determined one, at least.”
“You’re a hopeless, idiotic fool.”
“Perhaps,” he laughed, “but I should get going. Have lots of things to… prepare.”
That got a smile out of Tyden. “I shall see you soon then, I hope?”
Rythern once again reached out to ruffle his younger brother’s hair. “As soon as I can manage,” with this said the elder prince parted from his brother, pulled the door close behind him and headed down the darkened corridor. He had lots of things he needed to get in order.
