George's POV
Yes, George was avoiding Clay... again.
It had been four days since he'd seen the prince last. Four days since he'd heard the voice.
Most of his time in those four days was spent in his room, hiding, or in the library, also hiding. George found Maia in the library on a couple of his visits. They wouldn't talk much, just read. George could tell that Maia knew something was bothering him, but she said nothing, keeping out of his business.
George was currently in the library, hiding in a corner, unable to read past the first sentence of the book sitting in his lap. You could say he was brooding, his mind replaying that day's scene over and over again.
It's like listening to the same song over and over. You find a good song, but you listen to it so much that it becomes old and repetitive and you can't bear to listen past the first lyric. George was feeling something similar to that.
His mind repeated Clay's worried expression time after time again. The voice echoed in his mind, not currently speaking, but George couldn't stop hearing what it had said to him on that day. It's almost as if the voice was not speaking because it knew what it did to George.
The image of Jesse's happy face and Clay's wary one kept repeating. The prince's expression had morphed from stoic to happy when he talked to Jesse. George couldn't stop hearing Clay forgive him and comfort him.
And his touch... as soon as Clay touched George's chin, the voice in his head stopped, not even the essence of it remained. The presence of the being in his mind evaporated and he could think clearly. He could think without being afraid of an unwanted second opinion.
George's fingers traced where Clay had held his chin, only a simmering feeling of what had been remained. He closed his eyes and swallowed, his fingers still touching his chin.
He sighed and closed the book in his lap, not even bothering to attempt to try and read the first sentence again. George placed the book on a stack that had been slowly growing since his time in the library, just another reminder that he couldn't get over what happened.
George's stomach grumbled and he realized that it was nearing sunset. He didn't want to leave his chair in this newly familiar corner, sleep already calling to him.
George traced a finger over the arm of the chair, his fingertip gliding over the old, ornate wood. His eyes watched tiredly as he lazily went over the same pattern again and again. The library started to darken, so George lit a candle and placed it in the center of his small table, away from the flammable books.
It wasn't dark enough to need a candle yet, but George needed a reason to stay awake. If there was a candle burning, he knew he wouldn't fall asleep and let the magnificent library burn down.
So he watched. He watched the candle flame flicker atop the candle, swaying from side to side in unpredictable movements. Warm wax dripped down the side onto the candle holder and created a small pool. George's heart burned with the flame, its beat a steady rhythm that could not be compared to his thoughts.
Contrary to George's promise to himself, he felt his eyelids droop and his breathing slow.
But he didn't need to worry about staying awake, because a loud noise echoed through the library, coming from somewhere near George, followed by a loud curse.
George straightened in his seat as a head peeked out from behind a bookshelf. Floppy hair pooled over the newcomer's forehead. It was Clay. The prince's eyes brightened when he saw George. Dread pooled in George's stomach, but he also felt relaxed in the presence of a familiar person.
Clay gave him a sheepish grin. "I, uh, I may have knocked some stuff over."
George blinked, unsure of what to say. He swallowed and stood up, walking over to help the prince. Clay crouched down to pick up a pile of scattered books which had been knocked off their table. In their place was a covered basket.
George bent down to help Clay, but Clay just leaned back, letting George pick up the books. George was careful to avoid Clay's stare.
George started reorganizing the books in the correct places, moving some of Clay's around. Clay sat back and watched George quietly as he deftly moved around the books and placed them where they belonged.
There was one book remaining and it was by Clay's foot. The prince picked it up and held it out to George. He grabbed the book without looking at Clay, but the prince didn't let go. He held onto the book and George was unable to stop himself from meeting Clay's eyes.
The prince was studying George quietly, a question in his eyes. George ignored the sincerity of Clay's expression and tugged the book away, placing it gently in its correct spot. The book slid in perfectly, aligning with the rest of the shelf.
George's hand lingered on the book and he studied the title for longer than necessary. He heard a shuffle behind him as Clay stood up. Clay cleared his throat, making George slowly turn around.
Clay rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and gestured to the basket with another hand, "I... I brought food."
"Thanks," George replied, his voice hoarse from being in solitude for days.
George went back to his chair and picked up the book that he had set down earlier, opening to a random page. He stared at the paper in front of him, but his eyes didn't move across the words. Clay was awkwardly quiet for a moment before he snapped out of his stillness and brought the basket to the table by George, carefully moving the candle.
George heard the basket open followed by a rustling of cloth and metal. A chair dragged across the floor, a desperate attempt from Clay to get George to look at him, but George kept his eyes on the page in front of him and forced his eyes to read a line:
'To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken...'
George blinked at the deep words, feeling his heart connect with them on a level he didn't know was possible. His heart ached for that connection, for love, but he didn't want to risk everything for it. His eyes burned and he forced himself to turn the page without reading more.
He mostly read books about love, just so he could see why people would love. So he could see if falling in love was worth it. Most ended in tragedy and heartbreak, furthering George's fear of love... of the idea that someone could give him something, only to rip it away.
George's ears focused acutely on the prince across from him. Clay sighed at his failed attempt for George's attention and he plopped down in the chair he was previously dragging. He placed his feet on the table, his boots making a loud thud. An annoying crunch caused George to lift his eyes to meet Clay's.
Clay was smirking at George, a bitten apple in his hand. His noisy chewing was purposeful and his eyebrows were quirked in a challenge, as if to say, 'whatcha gon do 'bout it?'. Clay had one leg swung over the other, the heel of one sitting on the table.
His smirk grew when George cast him an annoyed glare. George ignored the arrogance in his expression and rolled his eyes, looking back down to his book.
Clay sighed, but he didn't comment. He just bit into his apple again with excessive slowness. George cringed at the purposefully loud crunch. He sighed and closed his book with more force than necessary.
He tipped his chin up and glared at Clay. "Do you need something?"
Clay's grinned. He took his feet off the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He said, "As a matter of fact, I do."
George gestured for him to continue and Clay cleared his throat, his grin fading as he asked, "Why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not avoiding you."
Clay gave him a bored look, seeing right through George's lie. "Uh-huh."
George's gaze dropped and he fidgeted with the book in his lap, his fingers tracing over the worn cover.
Clay seemed to think for a moment because he was quiet. The prince spoke up after a minute, his voice quiet, "Are you hungry?"
George glanced up, Clay staring intensely into his eyes. George peered at the basket, not being able to see its contents. He swallowed and looked back down, once again, fidgeting with the book in his lap.
The prince started to ramble, "I-I couldn't find much since dinner has passed, but I got some fruit." There was a rustling as Clay rummaged through the basket, talking quickly, "There's, uh, some bread and cheese? Do you want that? Or... okay, yep, that's it."
Clay's head lifted, waiting earnestly for George to respond.
George shook his head. "I'm not hungry."
And just because of George's luck, his stomach grumbled, not loudly, but the library was quiet enough for Clay to hear it. The prince gave him a pointed look, raising his eyebrow.
George's nose scrunched at his body's betrayal. He switched the topic, "How did you know to find me here?"
Clay shrugged and started picking through the basket, "That one princess... Maia? I think that was her name. She, uh, she sought me out and told me she was worried about you." Clay glanced at George as he pulled out some bread and cheese, making a sandwich. He continued, "She told me that you came here often, so I thought I'd stop by, and y'know... check up on you."
The prince's last words were quiet. He finished the sandwich and held it out to George, slight concern in his eyes. George ignored the offer, saying, "I guess I should find a new corner then."
Clay deadpanned, "I'll feed you myself if I have to."
George blinked at his sincerity. He sighed and grumbled, "Okay, okay, I'll eat your stupid sandwich."
Clay handed the sandwich to George as he leaned forward. George made sure not to touch the prince, in fear of feeling how he felt before. But Clay had different plans.
He gently grasped George's hand and murmured, "Can I ask you something?."
George's skin tingled under Clay's touch and he fumbled, "Sure?"
Clay's eyes searched George's, looking for something. The prince asked, "Why are you here?"
George's heart raced. He looked around the room. "I like to read."
Clay shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Why are you here? In my home... if you don't want to get married."
George's eyes widened slightly and he couldn't stop himself from looking at where Clay's hand grasped his. He mumbled, "I didn't have a choice, remember? All of the kingdoms with children of age have to enter their heir in the tournament."
Clay continued, "Well I know that, but you have an out of this tournament already if you wanted... you could've waited longer for the riddle and said the wrong answer. You could've completely missed those targets." Clay nodded at George's confusion, "I heard what you did. You hit almost every bullseye, why? You could've shot high or low, but you didn't... so, I'm still asking, why are you here?"
George's mind went blank. He wasn't ready to answer that question, not having enough time to process what he did, himself. His mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Clay let go of George's hand, allowing George to sit back.
The prince leaned back in his chair patiently, saying quietly, "Take your time... go ahead and eat first if you want."
George blinked and looked at the bread and cheese sandwich in his hand. He took a bite out of hunger and the need to stall. He processed the question in his head as he chewed, feeling Clay's gaze on him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet the prince's eyes.
George swallowed his food and muttered, "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
George nodded, still not meeting Clay's gaze, and repeated, "I don't know."
"Bullshit," Clay said, but his voice wasn't harsh, it was calm, "you know why, I can see it in your eyes."
George flinched and looked up, his brown eyes connecting with Clay's green ones, which were filled with his question and patience.
"I said," George said slowly, lying through his teeth, "I don't know."
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a/n - if you were wondering about the quote from the book that George was reading, it's by CS Lewis in his book The Four Loves. I've never read it, I just found the quote online and I wanted to add it to the story
here's the full quote: "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."
I personally love this quote. it's super deep and eye opening
next chapter will be out in a minute!