A Gift Unto the King

Chapter 1 - The Fall

The prince looked down at his lover's flustered face, his cheeks blushing red as he took a sharp inhale, held for a moment, and then slowly exhaled. Through heavy, panting, breaths, the royal admired the beauty of his lover; from his disheveled, sandy blonde hair, to the scars marking his body from past battles, each a testament to his resilience. His body glistened in the warm candle light that softly glazed the room. For a creature so torn apart by sword and spear, he looked nothing short of angelic.

Gently pulling away, the prince rocked to the side, and flopped down onto the bed next to him. A strong arm pulled him close as he rested his head against the man's inner shoulder. He ran his fingers gently across his muscular lover's bare chest, his long fingernails lightly tracing the contours of his pecs. He could feel the knight's heart pounding vigorously, his chest rising and falling at a decent pace as he attempted to catch his breath. The two laid in silence for a while, embracing each other as they watched the candle light flicker and dance against the walls. Freshly laundered sheets caressed their bare figures in a comfortable warmth as they breathed in the faint aroma of sweet lavender and cedar wood. Each calming breath encapsulated them further in peaceful euphoria. Prince Vin felt Lucas's breaths deepen, accompanied by a soft, nearly inaudible, snore. He glanced up at his lover's sleeping face once more before drifting off to sleep himself.

Vin was awakened by the warm glow of morning sun streaming into the room from between the cracks in the drapes. Tiny specs of dust danced like glitter in the golden rays. Turning over, he expected to be met with the warmth of Lucas's body, but instead, the bed was cold and empty. Propping himself up on one arm, he ran his hands across the sheets where his lover had been just a few hours before. Sighing, he grabbed Lucas's pillow and held it close, inhaling the scent. He couldn't say he was surprised to find himself alone, but just once, he'd like to wake up next to the person he'd fallen asleep with.

After a few moments, he tossed the pillow aside and got out of bed. He adorned a silk robe, and lifted the plum colored drapes slightly to peer out into the courtyard. Fresh morning mist coated the grassy hills in a thin blanket, delicately swirling in the breeze, while puffy clouds reflected fiery gold and orange into a pastel blue sky. In the center of the courtyard sat a small, crackling, fire, being tended by a middle aged woman filling a cauldron with vegetables and potatoes. She hung the pot on the iron hook above the flames, stirred the soup with a ladle briefly, and then disappeared into the servant's entrance. A man clothed in worn, dirt covered trousers and a tan blouse tugged a cart of hay towards the stables, where horses waited, neighing with excitement. The blacksmith and his apprentice could be faintly heard hammering steel by the forge. Amongst the few people milling around the courtyard, Lucas wasn't one of them.

Tugging on a pair of trousers and a shirt, the dark haired prince left his chambers and headed towards the dining hall. On his way, he glanced out the window facing the back fields. There, he spotted Lucas, sword in hand, vigorously slashing at a wooden pell. Vin stared down at the knight as he twisted and spun, sword hitting its mark with every swing. The deep, unlaced "v" of his loose, white, blouse exposed a thin wash of sandy blonde chest hair. His skin glistened with sweat, despite the chilled morning air. Vin felt himself getting lost in admiration for his lover, every move captivating him more. Finally, Lucas swung around forcefully, and his sword slashed through the wood, severing the top of the pell. Muscles tensed, Lucas stood still for a moment, sword hanging in his hands, panting heavily. Then, straightening himself out, he ran his hand through his hair to push it out of his face, exposing a scar running over his jaw and up midway to his left cheek. Suddenly, something captured Lucas's attention, and he directed himself towards the castle, sprinting inside. Vin's brows furrowed in confusion for a second before he heard what he could only assume was what Lucas had heard. Yelling and screaming was beginning to seep into the castle walls. Instinctively, the prince darted down the hall towards the stairs to the great hall. Rounding the corner and looking over the banister, his eyes were met with horror. His lover and the royal healer were hunched over the king, who was laid on the stone floor in a pool of his own blood. The queen stood rigid, trembling in shock, her slender fingers covering her mouth. Vin found himself frozen, merely staring at the sight unfolding before him, hands clenching the banister tightly. He could see the healer shouting orders, maids screaming to each other as they fulfilled his requests, but he couldn't hear the words. Instead, it was replaced by a muffled, throbbing, cacophony. Lucas was covered in the king's blood from applying pressure to the stab wound in his abdomen. The healer's younger sister, Angelique, rushed to his side, holding a wooden bowl of herbs and tinctures. Alistair snatched the bowl from his sister, quickly uncorking the glass bottle of Shepherd's Purse tincture, and dumping the contents onto the gushing wound. The king let out a guttural groan through his clenched jaw as the alcohol sent a stinging pain through his body. Alistair then took a handful of fresh yarrow leaves, rolled them quickly in his hands, and applied them to the wound, repeating until the green leaves masked the cut fully.