Jonathan of Conte closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the breeze as he rode through the city streets and not caring that he should be paying more attention to where he was going. It was late at night – past midnight – and the streets were deserted with only sparse vendors and their late night customers every few feet. He opened his eyes, seeing no one in sight and only a few dots of light in the far off distance. He was nearly at his destination and he pulled the reins to his horse, slowing it down.

Pulling off his cloak, he stopped in front of the tavern and swung off his horse, tying the reins himself. Patting his horse and feeding it a lump of sugar before he headed inside, he braced himself for the noise and smell of ale that would greet him. Draping his cloak over his arm, he grinned at the welcome atmosphere. The tavern was brimming with customers drinking themselves silly. He headed straight upstairs, calling to his friends in greeting before he did.

He was known as "Johnny" here. He wasn't known as "Prince Jonathan" or "Your Highness" and it was a change he happily accepted- that he i needed /i at times like. Entering the room without a problem, he smiled.

George was sitting in the chair across from the hot fire, reading a book.

"George! How do you do?"

Looking up over the top of the book, George's face lit up when he recognized his guest. "Prince Jonathan," he bowed mockingly.

A grin spread across Jonathan's face. "Hello."

"What brings you here so late at night?" his friend asked, setting the book aside.

Jonathan took the empty seat beside George's chair and sighed heavily. "I have a problem that I want your opinion on."

"Go on," George said, his hazel eyes meeting and holding Jonathan's.

For a moment he let the intensity behind George's eyes sink in; they had seen more things than he had despite the fact Jonathan would be king one day. They had seen hardships that he couldn't fathom, yet they would never see the hardships i he /i would face in his time. His eyes moved downward, suddenly unable to keep looking the man in the eye, and they stopped on George's hands. His hands had stolen, fought, and perhaps, killed. More things that George had already experienced that he knew he would most likely not have to, and if he ever did, he would be facing a situation that was entirely different.

George and Jonathan could never understand each other like friends, like equals. George was the rogue, the King of Thieves, and Jonathan was the heir to the throne. He would most likely live in the lap of luxury all his days, while George might be struggling to survive and constantly fearing for his life.

Jonathan's eyes turned to the burning fire, he vowed to do anything in his power, once he was king, to help George turn straight, to help him make a life that didn't involve thieving and living in fear.

"Is it about Alan?" George's voice interrupted his thoughts, making Jonathan turn back to his friend.

He was surprised that George had referred to Alanna as Alan. He knew that George was one of the only people who knew that the squire known as Alan was actually a pretty young lady named Alanna. Both George and Jonathan referred to Alanna by her real given name when the three were alone.

"Yes, it's about Alanna," he said, using her female name on purpose.

"What trouble has the lass gotten into this time?" George asked lightly, leaning back in his chair and watching Jonathan with a deep piercing stare.

Jonathan sighed heavily. "I was concerned about how she is… taking to the men there?"

"Taken to the men?"

"She flirts. As Alan. It's—"

"It makes you jealous," George said, smiling slightly.

"No. It's not that. I just think it could ruin her."

"She doesn't flirt, Jon. She's just being friendly. The only reason you see it as flirting is because you know she is truly a lass rather than one of the lads."

Jonathan thought deeply. He wasn't sure if George was right, but it sounded right. George's tone was serious like he had no doubt that his reasons were true. His hazel eyes were steady, knowledgeable. The other squires and pages didn't seem to notice anything amiss when Alanna flirted. He was sure that Alanna didn't even see it as flirting.

"You're right," he decided aloud, nodding to his friend in all seriousness.

"I know I am," George said. "You were jealous of the lads being flirted with. You want Alanna for yourself, but you can't have her. You can't even pretend you can; there is no chase because there is no destination for the two of you. She's supposedly a boy, and Goddess knows the heir to the throne cannot be scene as gay."

Jonathan was surprised. George said the words like he knew it was true. He said most things like he knew they were true. The words cut deeply, making Jonathan ponder the words and meaning behind them. They couldn't possible be true – he did not like Alanna as a woman. She was his friend, his squire, and his future subject. There were no other possibilities.

"Jon?"

His eyes flashed over to his friend in the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"What's wrong? Do you find truth in my words?"

"I can be whoever I want. I can be with whoever I want."

"Is that right? Don't your parents have a say in whom you are and who you are with?"

"I'm a man. I make my own choices."

"Hardly," George scoffed. "The whole country has a say in who you are and who you are with."

"No, they do not. I have control over my own life."

"Do you actually believe that, Jon? Do you actually think you could be with whoever you wanted and your parents and the country would just support you blindly?"

"My parents love me."

"Yes, they do. I was not denying that. I was simply saying that they had a say in things. Your life is not yours alone, Jon. Your life belongs to your country and duty."

Jonathan closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. He tried to not think of his future in such bleak terms; he tried to focus on the respect his future would entail. Hearing the words from a man who was living the opposite life as him yet seemed to understand what his future would be like was mind-boggling. George truly did know and see too much for his own good.

"Jon, I'm sorry if I stepped out of line," George said suddenly, making the prince open his eyes and look at him. There was not even the smallest hint of apology in the other man's voice. His hazel eyes held no sincerity, as he looked Jon's blue ones.

"No you're not," Jonathan muttered, "But that's okay."

"Are you feeling better about things?" George seemed to know he wasn't. By the look in the other man's eyes, he knew more than he was telling. At Jonathan's nod, he stood up. "I'll walk you out."

He rarely accompanied anyone from the room, especially ones that had burst in and invaded his space unannounced. The prince stood up, walking with George to the door. They stopped at the door; the men were almost too close for comfort. Despite how close of friends they were – George was the only one in town that knew "Johnny" was actually Prince Jonathan of Corte – they seldom were so close and alone.

George looked at him, meeting his blue eyes momentarily before he said, "Princes cannot be gay."

Jonathan nodded, feeling strange. "I'm not."

The man with hazel eyes nodded slowly. "Just don't slip up."