Chapter Five - Playing Games

There were certain things Gary didn't like in the mornings. Having cold water poured on him, he discovered, topped the list.

He let out a yelp and tumbled out of bed, his wet covers falling with him. After letting out a necessary stream of curses and swear words, he looked for the culprit. His cousin.

"Don't think that just because you're the second most important person in the kingdom, you can get away with stunts like this," Gary informed Jon, shaking his head and scattering drops of water over the room. "As soon as my teeth stop chattering, I'm killing you. I'm absolutely soaked."

"Excellent," Jon said, not looking at all bothered by the death threats. Gary had every intention of carrying through with them - that is to say, he would have every intention if it weren't for the fact that people would almost certainly notice Jonathan missing if Gary managed to dispose of him.

"Was there any reason for this rude awakening, or could you just not wait until morning to gaze into my eyes?"

Jon looked suitably unimpressed by Gary's sharp tone. "You wouldn't wake up, I tried calling you first. I wanted to hear about Roxanne."

"Oh," Gary said, wringing his dripping sheets out. "She was fine."

Jonathan arched an eyebrow at his cousin. "Roxanne is never fine. Roxanne is insulting, scathing or mildly violent."

Gary rubbed his eyes. "She's really not that bad."

"Roxanne is sharp enough to make hardened criminals soil their loincloths, she could make an entire army stop in their tracks, she's - not that bad?"

"No," Gary replied curtly, tiring of talking about Roxanne. It made him think of the almost kiss, and then he felt embarrassed, which he was far too tired to feel. "She's not. You, on the other hand, should be strung up and eaten alive by eagles for waking me up at this godsforsaken hour."

A scowl set over Jon's features. "Alan kicked me out," he explained. "Something about me snoring too loudly." The scowl was replaced by a frown as he sat down on the driest part of the bed. Gary watched his younger cousin silently, awaiting a better reason for his early morning drenching than snoring. Finally, Jon asked, "Do you think Alan's attractive?"

At first, Gary assumed he'd misheard. Then, he blinked at Jon. "Do I find Alan attractive? Do I find Alan attractive? You woke me up to ask me that?"

Jon folded his arms across his chest. "It's a simple question," he retorted. "Do you need it put in simpler terms?"

Gary responded with a number of incoherent but nevertheless violent threats. Then he paused as a horrifying idea occurred to him. "Why, does Alan-" He swallowed hard. "Does Alan find me attractive?" he asked hesitantly.

An unfathomable expression flickered over Jon's face before he snorted loudly. "You wish. No, I just - I just wondered what type of person would think our Alan was attractive, and since you apparently don't, I can rule out 'psychopathic killers' from my list of possible sweethearts for him."

"Good," Gary replied, eyeing his room for a dry replacement for his sheets. Finding none, he crossed the room and rapped sharply on his squire's door. "Now go die a horrible death."

"I'm sure that files under 'treason'."

Gary shrugged, knocking harder. "You're not king yet, but the cause is justified enough to negate the crime. But, I would be willing to negotiate your horrible, slow and painful death by snakes-"

"It was eagles a moment ago," Jon pointed out, looking all too cheerful in the face of his impending doom. "If I'm going to die, I'd like my murderer to be consistent."

Gary shot him a glare that, if the world were fair, would have killed him on the spot. "Keep talking and I'll make sure you're sent to visit Grandmother." Jon abruptly shut up, eyeing Gary warily. "I want you to dance with Cythera."

"So you can get even angrier with me and publicly explode?"

Gary sighed in exasperation. "No, so nobody else will dance with her. She won't dance with me, and you're the Prince, she has to say yes to you. Or she's polite enough to not say no."

Jon stood finally, not convinced. "I'm going to agree, but only because I think you are severely unhinged and I should humour the insane."

"Excellent," Gary said, yawning widely. "Carry on like that, and you'll be the best King ever. And why is my damn squire not up yet? Aren't these things supposed to come when you call them?"

"He's probably asleep. It's pretty early, you know."

"Alan? Alan, the palace is burning down. There's a murderer on the loose. There's a girl asking after you down the stairs, she says she's pregnant and it's yours." Douglass paused to see if his latest attempt would have any effect. There was still no answer, and so he continued talking to the wooden door. "Alan, Dain of Melor wants to have a rematch. He's downstairs, with the Shang Wildcat. And King Ain's here to offer you a personal invitation into his pleasure gardens."

Finally, a tousle-headed, fully-clothed Alan pulled his door open. Douglass looked at him enviously. Alan had clearly been able to enjoy a full night's sleep without interruptions from his knight-master, whinging about having wet the bed.

"What do you want? I'm busy."

Douglass raised an eyebrow. "Busy, eh?"

Alan scuffed a foot across the floor, not looking at the other squire. "Yes, I'm playing chess."

"Oh, right." Douglass shot him a sly grin, news having reached him about his yearmate's newfound appetite for the opposite sex. "About to checkmate her, eh? Take her queen, get your king in-"

Alan's face contorted with disgust. "No, I'm not playing with a girl. I'm playing with Jon. And he's taken my queen."

"Oh, I didn't realise you were really playing chess. Sorry. I have a message for you from my most supremely deranged knightmaster."

Alan raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

"You're to get your sorry behind to each ball before Jon, and ask - nay, beg the Lady Cythera to bless you with the first dance, or you'll never be able to face another day again."

Alan's mouth fell open. "But - bu-" His eyes narrowed. "Gary didn't really say that, did he?"

"Fellow squire, would I lie?" Douglass asked, trying his best to look sincere.

Alan rubbed his nose. "Well, yes, just now you were telling me about the bears running up and down the hall that were going to kill you unless I let you in." He poked his head out of his room, and looked deliberately from left to right. "Definitely a lie."

Douglass shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't lie about my knightmaster's orders." He glanced at Alan, wondering whether the other boy was remembering the Beltane event, where he had tried to persuade all the eligible girls that his knightmaster had ordered him to jump over the coals with at least twenty girls, or he'd face the whip. He decided to proceed hurriedly. "You can check it with him if you like. Personally, I think all this lusting after the rose of Elden has made his mind slightly cracked."

"I think your mind's slightly cracked," Alan retorted. "Now go away, I want to finish my game."

Douglass saluted him. "Yes, sir. Hope you win, Jon!" he called into the room.

"Win?" Jon queried as Alanna re-entered his room.

"Oh, nothing, just Douglass being peculiar."

Jon nodded, and pulled Alanna on top of him. "Are you still angry with me?"

"Well, you still haven't apologised," Alanna pointed out. "You just walked out."

Jon kissed her on the lips. "There, how's that for an apology?"

She kissed him back.