The Rose's Thorn

Chapter Three

"Be careful." The guard bowed to Nathan, before rushing after Collin.

The prince dropped his shoulders in defeat, turning to the moss wall and pressing his hand to it. The moss under his hand began to glow, and became warm to the touch. The secret door flashed a bright white, and Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, stepping blindly through the once solid wall.

Upon opening his eyes, his heart sank.

A tall man, decorated in Ataven's armor, stood before him. The stranger's face was hidden by his helmet. Nathan took a step backwards, his back slamming into the solidified wall. "Identity yourself!" Nathaniel barked this as an order, as if he was still in charge.

But, he was not in charge.

The unidentified soldier lifted up his visor.

Nathan's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Prince Vincent, of the kingdom of Ataven. I am sure you have heard of me." A smirk grew on Vincent's face. "My, you are even more pathetic in person."

Nathan groaned. Today was really not his day. "Let me guess, this is a hostage thing?" His voice, however, betrayed the intentions of his words. His voice came out as a mere whisper.

Vincent laughed, taking him by the hand and pulling him to his chest. "Precisely, my prince." Nathan winced, putting a hand to the man's chest and pushing him backwards with as much strength as his shaking hands could muster.

Vincent hardly budged.

Instead, Nathan felt his feet leave the ground as he was thrown over Vincent's shoulder. He struggled viciously, which only caused the grip on him to tighten. Nathan gave up rather quickly, his body falling slack, allowing Vincent to haul him towards a stagecoach that was stationed nearby.

Vincent hopped up into the coach , dropping Nathan on to a seat and knocking the wind out of him. "Bastard." He wheezed, sitting up slightly as the stagecoach began to move.

"I would agree with you." Vincent knelt next to him, grabbing his hands and binding them together with rope. "But then again, I do not find it insulting." His voice was devoid of any emotion as he brought out a blindfold, tying it over Nathan's eyes.

"I hope you know you're not going to get anything out of this." Nathan managed to calm his voice, though his heart was still racing and his palms were way too sweaty. "My father won't give you anything for me. This is a waste of your time and resources."

He felt a strong hand close around his throat, and Nathan's entire body tensed up as pressure was applied.

"Shut up. Or your tongue will be the first thing you lose. I didn't want anything from your father. I wanted you."

Vincent Ataven

August 2nd, 1:25 PM

"For your sake, John, you had better pray that this works." Vincent dropped down the visor of his helmet, watching as the castle of Aecroston came into view.

"It will, my liege. You need not worry. I know that boy like I know the blade of my sword." The voice that answered him was low and husky.

Vincent turned his gaze to the man who spoke. "It is unwise to trust a traitor unconditionally, Sir Edwards." He chuckled to himself, watching as the knight squirmed uncomfortably. "If you fail me," the prince growled, "I will not hesitate to take your head."

Sir Edwards turned his gaze to the castle. "I know, sire. You need not worry. You know where my loyalty stands." He picked up the helmet that sat beside him, pulling it on over his head.

"Perhaps, but there is always doubt." The stagecoach rolled to a stop, not far from the castle gates. Edwards rose, opening the door and stepping down. "I will not fail you, my liege." The door shut, and the stagecoach began to move again.

Vincent watched from the window of the stagecoach as Edwards led his army towards the castle gates, sword raised above his head. "What a foolish man. Don't you think, Harold?"

The stagecoach driver looked back at him, giving a slight smile. "Yes, my liege." The young man turned away again, snapping the whip to urge the horses on.

Vincent found his eyes scanning the castle walls, watching intently for the patch of moss that would give away the location of the hidden gate. It was clever, having a mage integrate a magical door. But it was also very stupid. Magic always left some sort of trace. In this case, it was the moss that covered the stone.

Vincent lurched forward as the coach suddenly came to a halt. "Harold!" He regained his footing, glaring at his driver.

"I'm sorry sire, but we've arrived outside the gate." The driver delivered this information calmly, hoping to ease the prince's temper. It worked.

Vincent leaned back, looking out at the mossy wall. "He should be coming soon. Be at the ready. I will be back." He pushed open the door, climbing out of the stagecoach and slowly approaching the wall. He brushed his hand against the moss, and immediately jumped back. It sent a cold shock up his arm. "Interesting." He murmured, rubbing his hands together.

He waited, listening as the sounds of clashing swords began to fill the air. After the fighting began, it didn't take long for the wall to begin to glow fiercely. Vincent covered his eyes with a gloved hand. As the glowing died down, he dropped his hand, watching as the young prince scurried through the barrier. Beneath the helmet, Vincent smirked.

Once the prince noticed him, his eyes widened, and he stepped back, pressing himself up against the wall. "Identify yourself!" Nathan squeaked at him, and Vincent held back a laugh.

How cute. He thought he was in charge.

Vincent raised his visor, watching as the prince's jaw dropped.

"Prince Vincent, of the kingdom of Ataven. I am sure you have heard of me." He paused, taking a long look at Nathan. "My, you are even more pathetic in person."

"Let me guess, this is a hostage thing?" Nathan whispered, causing Vincent to laugh as he grabbed his hand and pulled him to his chest. "Precisely, my prince." Vincent purred, and Nathan winced, putting a hand to his chest and pushing against his armor.

Vincent hardly budged. How pathetic.

He snatched the prince up, throwing him up over his shoulder with ease. Nathan seemed to barely weigh anything. He had lifted goats that were heavier. As the prince struggled, Vincent only tightened his grip as he carried him over to the stagecoach. He opened the door with his free hand, tossing the prince on to one of the seats.

"Bastard." Nathan wheezed, struggling to sit up as the stagecoach started rolling.

"I would agree with you." Vincent knelt next to him, grabbing his hands and binding them together with rope. "But then again, I do not find it insulting." He grinned, tying the blindfold over Nathan's eyes.

"I hope you know you're not going to get anything out of this." Nathan's voice was calm, but his body gave away his true feelings. He was afraid. Vincent could almost feel the fear radiating off of him. "My father won't give you anything for me. This is a waste of your time and resources."

Without a moment's hesitation, Vincent's hand closed around Nathan's throat. The prince stiffened like a board as he applied pressure to that delicate neck.

"Shut up. Or your tongue will be the first thing you lose. I didn't want anything from your father. I wanted you."