Whumptober 2022 Prompts No. 25: "You better start talking." & No. 12 Rusty Nail
"It's amazing!"
Princess Rosella studied the courtyard, eyes gleaming with excitement. Streamers adorned every column. On one side of the space, tables were decorated with brightly-colored tablecloths and laden with all her favorite foods. Games had been set up and scattered around the rest of the area, awaiting the small horde of children that would soon be streaming in.
The newly-turned eight-year-old ran back to where her parents had been watching. "This is going to be the best birthday ever!"
An hour later, Rosella's team was one round away from winning the ring toss game when she heard a scream behind her.
"It's going over that way!"
"Get it away from me!"
She turned to see a ring of children staring and pointing downward, several darting away to put more distance between themselves and whatever was on the ground.
She dropped the ring she'd been about to throw and grabbed a wooden practice sword from the nearby rack instead. As she ran over to find out what all the fuss was about, she noticed a trio of boys standing off separate from the larger group, all three snickering as they watched the commotion with obvious enjoyment.
She managed to shoulder her way through to get a good look. A black rat snake was winding its way across the courtyard stones. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at how several girls were still shrieking. It wasn't a venomous snake or even particularly big.
Normally, she would have left it alone to mind its own business, but she was afraid it would be trampled with so many kids around. She was lifting it with her sword when an adult voice called out loud enough to be heard over the commotion.
"What's going - oh. Here, I'll take that, Princess," the man said. "Is everyone all right?"
She nodded as she handed him the hilt of the sword. "I think so. There's a garden that way; he'll like it there." She pointed to an archway in the northern wall.
While he delivered the snake to safety, she glanced around the group. Nobody seemed to have been bitten, and even the most hysterical girl had calmed down. She turned and narrowed her eyes at the trio of boys she'd noticed earlier but waited until the man had gone back to the other adults before storming over to them.
"That was you, wasn't it? You brought it here on purpose."
The boys just glanced at each other.
"You better start talking."
The middle boy, who looked a little older than her, grinned. He was one of the visiting nobles, but one she'd never met before today, and she couldn't recall his name. "So? Was just a bit of fun. Parties are supposed to be fun."
"Well, it's my party, and I don't think you scaring my guests is much fun."
In truth, the whole thing was rather exciting, but she wasn't going to let him know that.
As she glared at him, he held up both hands in defeat. "It was a harmless one, Princess Rosella, I swear." He gave a slight bow to her and then turned to include the rest of the group. "My apologies."
His returning court manners finally reminded her of his name from his earlier introduction. Leon. Prince Leon.
"Well, Prince Leon, I think you could make it up to us by leading the sparring matches. Against me."
"Very well."
They both took a practice sword and squared off, the other children gathering to watch. Rosella attacked first, their swords clacking loudly as Leon defended himself and then counter-attacked.
Despite being younger, Rosella managed to hold her own. Barely. Their spar was interrupted when a voice called, "Time for cake!"
Their audience ran off, more interested in the desserts than who would win. Leon cautiously lowered his sword. "Tie?"
Rosella gave a curt nod as she returned her sword to the rack. That had been fun. "Race you to the cake!"
She sped off, laughing at his indignant "Hey!" as he slammed his own sword back into place and followed.
The rest of the party went smoothly, and as she went to sleep that night, Rosella decided that it had, indeed, been the best birthday ever.
Alya had sent Gwydion to his room for the rest of the afternoon; she had become irritated with him being underfoot. As irritated as the ghost servant was capable of, anyways.
The newly-turned eight-year-old was more than happy to comply; it gave him some time before he would be expected to resume his duties once dinner was ready. He'd already made two new stick men who were currently involved in a heated match of kick-the-ball.
One of the stick men kicked the 'ball' - an acorn - and it shot straight past the other to roll under Gwydion's bed.
"Well, your aim sure could use some work," Gwydion told the stick man in his hand. Then, picking up the other, he spoke for it in a different voice. "No kidding! Your kicking is even worse than your catching!"
"Hey, now. I'll get the ball, but no fighting while I'm gone!" Gwydion scolded him.
He put down both and scooted over to the bed to look under it. The acorn was nowhere to be seen; where had it gone? He flipped over to his stomach and slid under the bedframe.
He finally found it resting between one of the legs of the bed and the wall. As he was scooting back out, hand sliding over the floor planks, he noticed one felt different than the others. It was… raised slightly in some way?
Curious, he finished scrambling back out and tossed the acorn back to the figures, the game forgotten. He pulled on one end of his bed experimentally.
It was heavy, but he could move it - and most importantly, it didn't make any loud noise when he did so.
Once the bed was far enough out of the way, he crouched down and found the strange board again. One end of it was sticking up a bit from the others. He tugged on it and was surprised to find it lifted without too much effort.
With the board removed, there was a shallow, empty space in the floor. Gwydion turned back to his stick men. "Hey, you two, look at this!"
He retrieved them along with the acorn and laid them down in the hole. Then, as he pulled his hand back up, he felt a sudden sharp pain.
"Ow!" He looked at the small cut on his hand and then back to the hole. A small nail was sticking out from one edge.
"Careful; this place is more dangerous than it looks. But -"he said, shoving the board back into place, "- now you have a safe hiding spot!"
After moving his bed back, he looked at his hand again. It wasn't bleeding much, but Alya had put some sort of salve on him the last time he'd gotten badly cut. He'd put some on later.
"Alya?"
She looked up, first at him and then pointedly at the pile of dishes he was supposed to be washing.
"I know, but can you look at this?" He held out his hand. The skin around his cut was swollen and red; washing dishes with it was not an enjoyable experience.
She glanced at it and then pulled a jar from one of the shelves.
"I already tried that. Twice."
She held the jar out to him.
"But it didn't work!"
When she continued to hold it out, he sighed and took it. She hadn't been much help. He put the jar aside so he could put more on after he'd finished the dishes.
If his hand kept getting worse, he might not have a choice but to talk to him. He hoped the salve worked this time.
Gwydion placed the drink he was delivering on the desk."Sir?"
Manannan looked up at him crossly.
He swallowed.
"Either spit it out or stop wasting my time."
"It's… my hand, sir." He held it up. The redness and swelling had only worsened, to a point where he could barely use it for anything. Either he took care of this now, or he would get into trouble anyway for not being able to do his work.
Manannan half-growled in annoyance. "Idiot boy. I don't know how you possibly managed to mangle yourself so, but let me be clear. You are here to work. If you can't work, then I don't have any use for you. Understood?"
Gwydion nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
"Now get out."
Gwydion wasted no time in doing so. That could have gone worse, but he still didn't have a fix for his hand. He chewed his lip in worry.
As it turned out, he didn't have to worry long. As he was settling in for bed, Alya entered his room, carrying a glass in one hand. She held it out to him.
"Is that from him?" asked Gwydion. She nodded.
Taking it, he peered down at the pale green liquid inside. Then, hoping it was what he suspected, he downed it. Surprisingly it didn't taste too bad.
The following day his hand was back to normal as if the cut had never happened, and the wizard never mentioned the incident again.
Overall, Gwydion decided the whole ordeal had been worth the discovery of his little hiding place. He was just more careful of nails in it from then on.
