short stories about being gay and doing crimes

The Prince and the Soldier

A lone figure trudged up and down the slippery sand dunes, bearing a message too great to be read as text on a screen. The wind kicked gritinto her eyes, and she sighed. It seemed as though she would never grow accustomed to all the cursed sand everywhere, no matter the years she had lived in this desert.

As the messenger crested another dune, she could finally spot the high towers and sweeping arches of the palace in the distance. With the end of her journey in sight, she hastened her pace. She hated to be the one to break the terrible news, but someone had to do it.

The regal city of Antioch never failed to astound her, due partly to its beauty and partly because of its unbearable contrast to the state ofthe rest of the country. While every other city in Uthorix held the hustle and bustle of townsfolk trying to scrape by under the watch of peacekeepers, Antioch was filled instead with swishes of garments dyed every color of the rainbow, worn by aristocrats strutting around like the self-important peacocks that they were. The messenger felt drab in her stained moss green cloak, but she was used to it. Besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

Not allowing herself to stick around to see the sights,the messenger pushed onward. By the time she reached the palace gates, it was nearly dusk. She had been walking all day, dreading what was yet to come. The palace guards waved her through, and a couple more guards fell in line to escort her to the queen. The dreaded moment was soon upon her.

She barely caught a glimpse of the grand foyer before she was led down a hallway to her left, and, before she knew it, she stood at the entrance of the throne room. A massive stained glass window illuminated the room, drawing attention to the lines of pillars leading to the thrones. The messenger pushed down her qualms and focused on putting one foot in front of the other until the guards on either side of her stopped. She took a deep bow, not ready to look Queen Olna in the eye.

"You may rise." The queen's voice dripped with authority and demanded undivided loyalty. Just those three words sent shivers down the messenger's spine. She finally looked up to see the woman sitting on the throne, clad in midnight blue and gold. Her dark hair was tucked into a sleek updo, a stark contrast against the golden band she wore on her brow.

The messenger cleared her throat. "Your Majesty, I bring terrible news from Cadrina. You see, His Majesty—"

A scuffle came from behind the king's throne, and a small face peeked over the side of the armrest. Queen Olna turned and beckoned the child toward her, a slight grimace flashing across her face.

The boy—no older than five, with his mother's dark hair and undoubtedly his father's facial structure—shuffled up to the queen, staring at the messenger. Her Majesty whispered to her son, and the messenger caught fragments: "What are you doing..." and "...not meant to be here."

Evidently, the young prince was allowed to stay, which only made the messenger's job much harder.

The queen nodded and said, "My apologies. What news do you bring of my husband?"

"His Majesty..." It would do no good to continue to delay. "His Majesty King Kornin has been assassinated by rebels from the outlying districts. I offer my sincerest condolences." She couldn't bear to look at the prince.

Queen Olna rose from her throne, a terrifying look in her eye. The messenger wasn't sure what combination of negative thoughts that look held, but it was enough to make her lower her gaze and take a step back. She knew next to naught about the royal family, but their tempers were infamous for ending in destruction.

She had been watching the queen's body language for signs of imminent danger, but she wasn't expecting the electrifying jolt that ran through her and knocked her to the ground. Was this the queen's mindsight? She had never witnessed magic strong enough to rip open someone's mind and have them collapse, yet there she lay, convulsing in pain on the marble floor.

As soon as it came, the vice gripping her mind released.

Queen Olna sighed. "It appears you speak the truth," she said, her authoritative tone exponentially weaker. "Leave my sight."

The messenger gladly took her leave and never looked back.

Prince Nulsol didn't understand what the messenger had said, but judging by his mom's reaction, something terrible had happened to his dad. He was later told exactly what had happened, and that day marked the beginning of his new life.

In the coming weeks, many new people came through the palace. Most came for funeral preparations or to provide condolences, but one visitor came almost daily. This person was a boy the same age as Nulsol, with darker skin and unruly curls and a permanent smile, and his name was Skel Kando.

Skel was the son of General Xyrev Kando, and the queen believed he would be a good influence on Nulsol. Surprisingly, they got along well. They would hide from the world andtraverse the royal gardens, the library, or the long hallways and perch under giant statues of the goddesses Space and Time. They discussed everything and nothing: secret codes, new adventures to have, their concerns, and above all their desire to run away and explore theuniverse beyond Uthorix.

Those days were their golden age, their special place. And, like many others' childhoods, theirs ended far too soon. At age 12, Nulsol and Skel snuck out of the palace, despite Nulsol being banned from leaving. They saw the sights, browsed shops, tasted samples, watched a performing artist tell a story with their magic, and bumped into a group of people with strange black capes giving a speech.

Everyone wore clothes to match the color of their role in society, but this group was making it clear they had none. Instead, they wore a symbol of a bird in flight: the rebel insignia.

The rebels spoke of a tyrannical crown that tortured petty thieves and stole supplies from the districts to maintain their luxurious lifestyle. Something stirred within Nulsol, unwinding his
mother's prejudice against the rebels that resided in him. He wanted to hear more, but all too soon, the guards caught up with him and Skel. Just like that, Nulsol's first taste of freedom was over.

Their day out had been innocent enough in intent, but to Queen Olna, it was treason. She sent Skel away for indoctrinating her son with rebel propaganda, then forcefully dragged Nulsol to his room to be punished. For all his efforts to block out what happened that day, from then on he was marked, scarred in more ways than one.