Dining with the Prince

Note: A short piece, almost more like an extended headcanon than a story, but something that explores my ideas of the characters' eating habits. Told from Étoile's point of view but there's nothing really shippy about this.

Hope you like it!

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Everyone in Prince Arslan's company had a healthy appetite. So every meal was always a lively affair.

Étoile had observed this much when she had first joined the prince's company after the Battle at the Keep of St. Emmanuel. She was accustomed to travelling with soldiers, large groups of boisterous fellows whose manners lacked some refinement. She enjoyed breaking bread with her comrades, feeling a sense of solidarity with the people she ate with.

And despite her best efforts to resist and keep her distance, she found herself getting drawn into Prince Arslan's group. It didn't help that the prince was constantly inviting her to join him, something she repeatedly reminded him was ill-advised considering that they were supposed to be enemies. But he would shrug off this distinction, as usual, and proceed with sharing his food with her. And after a few more futile attempts, Étoile simply gave up protesting.

And she had to admit, very reluctantly, that every meal was made more enjoyable by the chaos.

Daryun always ate voraciously, needing to fill himself up after exhausting days of training and fighting. Jaswant was similarly eager although he sometimes hesitated when faced with food he was not familiar with. Nevertheless, he did not complain and always found something satisfactory to munch on.

Narsus was more refined in his manners but his graceful movements did little to belie the fact that he ate a lot. Elam was usually the one who prepared the food, to everyone's delight, although Alfarid would occasionally compete with him, at least when it came to cooking the food for Narsus. Their bickering at the dining table was pretty much a staple of every meal time.

Gieve usually brought a musical instrument to the table, to provide some ambiance and occasional poetry. But he would always pause so that he could eat his fill as well. Farangis was discreet and graceful and though she did not eat as much as the others, she easily consumed more alcohol than any of the men.

Arslan usually watched all the proceedings with amusement, never tiring of his friends' antics. He would smile with resignation whenever an argument broke out and it was clear that he was more than used to mediating between drunken quarrelers.

Étoile noticed that he was not a fussy eater, never squeamish about common food, and always with a healthy appetite. He ate a lot more than she had expected of a "pampered, rich brat." She wondered that a prince would be so undiscriminating when it came to his meals but she was learning that Arslan was truly not like any other prince she had ever heard of. He ate not only with his close companions but sometimes he even ate with some of the foot soldiers or even the Lusitanian refugees. These people would always stare at him in awe whenever he did such a thing, unaccustomed to having royalty in their midst, but Arslan always made them as comfortable as he could, talking to them about mundane things and even sharing a joke or two. Soon, it no longer surprised people to have the prince eat with them.

Étoile watched all of this with interest. Initially, she had felt very much like an outsider and had played the role of an observer. But after a while, she began to participate more in every meal, eagerly taking her share and eating her fill while expressing her opinions on various issues. The others treated her like one of their own, with Arslan, Alfarid, and Farangis being particularly friendly to her. She knew that Daryun, Narsus, and Elam were wary of her but they soon began to warm to her as well, and she to them. And she found that the more she learned about Arslan, the more she enjoyed his company.

Étoile had never eaten so well in her life and this was not due to the quality of the rations. Most days, they had the simplest of meals, hard bread and cheese, and the occasional sip of alcohol. No, it was the company she was keeping that made the experience meaningful and somehow, the Lusitanian soldier sincerely hoped that all this would last as long as possible.