Read it on AO3 here archiveofourown .org /works /385788 /chapters /631927 Will always be updated first and most likely faster than here.

"Dave Strider. You have been appointed to become the new Heir apparents guardian knight."

Those words rang hollow in you ears but you weren't sure why. You knew if you were at home given this news the overwhelming feeling of pride and happiness would bubble out of you, and for once your stoic and down right handsome face would break into a rare smile.

But you weren't smiling and this wasn't your home. This was a graveyard, a funeral.

And your brother was dead.

No. Murdered.

Now you were to take his place, to succeed where he...failed; to protect the last Heir to the great Kingdom of Skaia, where a dark and evil power plans to take it all for itself, and you are the last defense to stop it.

Awesome.

The crackling snaps of the coals and wood in the fireplace was really the only sound puncturing the heavy silence of the room. Really you were serious, if a fly decided to grace the inhabitants of this room with its presence and fart they would hear it.

They?

Oh yeah right now you are sharing a room with The Johnathan Allen Egbert, Prince of Skaia, Heir of Breath future inheritor to the Throne of Wind graced by the Golden Goddess Prospit may she forever protect the land and the bloodline of the Crown-dammit, knight training really got to you when you least expected it, making you spout a rote like that even in the privacy of your own head was a bit unnerving. But you kinda understood, if you fucked up on the titles of the gentry it was a quick way to land yourself a job in the stables for a week with manure up to you eyeballs. Yeah pages in training catch on quick to avoid receiving such a chore after the first few times.

Speaking of chores, mucking through seas of manure sounded a whole lot nicer than the job he was now saddled with. You snuck a glance at the prince who sat opposite of you facing the fireplace. Both of you were still dressed in your mourning attire, his obviously more ornate: with shiny black thread-work peaking from black velvet along his cuffs and collar, black lace at his wrists, and fitted with tight black boots up to his knees, truly making you feel more of dusty crow next to a sleek raven in comparison.

You would of thought the image of a Prince dressed in somber black sitting in front of a roaring fire would be more like the tales the women would like to recite. The brooding distraught prince lit only by flames dressed like the night with his eyes like stars, blah, blah, blah.

But no, looking at the boy prince he looked nothing like a stories soon to be king, he looked like a lost boy. Just like you, who had lost his older brother and was now thrust into something far larger than he had ever thought possible. He looked like you-or like you would if you were to ever let your stoic mask fall-scared, sad, and lost, all while trying to hold it together because you knew you couldn't break now.

You knew he had black hair, everyone knew that the blood line was famous for black hair and jewel colored eyes. But you hadn't known how unruly it was, how it flopped at odd angles and could only be called tamed at best. You didn't know just how blue his eyes were, from beneath his dark lashes you could see a color you never knew was possible before, a pure blue like the sky and sea.

That sky and sea enveloped you, drowned you, sent you flying at the same time, and you were surprised to realize you had been staring, and that the eyes of the prince were directed right back at your own.

With a quick cough you looked away and berated yourself for meeting his eyes: one you didn't like to make eye contact on a normal basis and two wasn't it like against the code of conduct to look royalty in the eyes or something? You weren't cut out for court, you didn't have your brothers ease with others, his air of commanding respect and awe without a word. You were not your brother, so how were you to do what he couldn't? How did you even stand a ch-

"Dave?"

Rambling thoughts were cut short by his voice. Quiet, tentative, pure enough to cut through your monologue like a knife. Not the voice of a prince. It calmed you.

"Yes Sire?" Cursing your own traitorous voice it came out opposite of what you would of liked: aloof, cool, confident, would have been good-but no you ended up sounding more akin to a child who just got stealing a honeycake.

"Oh, uh, its ok to call me John. Were going to be spending a lot of time together from now on so I'd rather not spend it tripping over unneeded formalities. Uh, that is if you don't mind?" He seemed a bit nervous, fiddling with the lace at his hands and looking back down after addressing you, very unprincely, but you were starting to get the feeling he-John-wasn't very much of a prince, as much as you were a knight.

"No I don't mind. I wont call you Sire or M'lord as long as you promise not to impale me on those tusks you call teeth."

For a second the thought crossed your mind that you may have gone too far, that no matter what he seemed he was royalty and you don't insult the next kings freakishly large teeth. But quickly enough those fears were blown away as John quickly smacked his hands to his mouth and pulled an comically indignant face at you.

"My teeth are not that bad Dave!"

A smirk a pure awesome graced you lips as you stared John down."So you're sure you're not related to any wild boars in the kings forest, you look similar enough."

"Your face is a boar!" John managed to yell out in mock anger then quickly stifling his unmanly giggles. God that was cute-wait what? David Strider you did not just think the Prince, your new charge was cute! That is not what knights do! They protect their wards not think they're Gog-damed adorable. Shit he was laughing again you had to say something with in the next two seconds or your come back wouldn't be cool, and you could not let that happen.

Apparently you managed to say something good enough to send him into another fit of laughter and snorts. The dark cloud that had hung above the room but a few moments earlier dissipated under the onslaught of jokes and quips that were passed between the two of you. You knew that if some stranger had walked in they would of never known the two of you buried your brothers today, that you were both neck deep in conspiracies and plots that would like nothing better than to end up with both of you dead, or that both of you knew these facts intimately.

All they would see would be a budding blossoming friendship.

A friendship that you David Strider knight and protector to the Heir apparent to the Kingdom of Skaia, wouldn't let be crushed. Because you would never let anyone or anything hurt John or you would die trying just like your brother.

No one deserved the storm that you both had been thrust into but you prayed to the golden Goddess that you were strong enough to protect the Kingdom, to protect John. You prayed you were because god you knew you weren't near enough.