Chapter 6: His Reach
Red like the fiery sunsets of the west drapes the heavens, the earth, and everywhere in between with the approach of the king's birthday. The entirety of Crodinia is ablaze with the bold crimson color, acting as both a symbol of heart and power to its people and to its rulers. With soldiers and guards flooding the streets wherever the red flows, the prince can take his pet into the capital city without any fear of traveling without an entire escort.
The prince's brother insisted that he bring an escort with him into the capital prior to his leave, but the prince told him his pet would serve as enough protection. Under the justification that his pet's life was on the line if anything were to happen to him, he finally permitted the prince to take his pet with him. So, it was done.
Wherever the prince travels, young and teenage girls point at him and shy away in giggling fits and beet-red faces. The prince also flushes a bright red, wondering if perhaps he can hide his complexion in the banners floating all over the capital. He loosely explains to his pet that at sixteen years of age, he is considered to be old enough to marry as an official adult in Crodinia.
As they walk towards the middle of the city, festive music grows louder, and the soldiers grow in number. It is all the prince can do to hold onto his pet's chain and keep him close. One false slip and he can very well get the chain attached to his collar knocked out of his hand. The guards, the prince notices, eye him and his pet with nervous looks, eyes shifting, and bodies twitching.
They must be looking for the Shadow, the prince thinks and continues on his way. The soldiers of the crown have yet to recover after receiving news of the killings, now believing it wise to never get involved with the prince. While it would bother him under normal circumstances, the prince seldom has time to care; he spends far more energy focusing on his pet than conversing with the soldiers, and this way, he feels a sense of authority over them, even if it is under his brother's power.
Continuing through the capital, the prince's Altorienese pet witnesses the capital's glory in its fullest form. Towers of stone and humble but colorful buildings dot the streets, and throughout, there are statues and sculptures of gods believed to bring wealth, health, and prosperity. Exotic vendors pitching food, toys, and clothing entice passing city-dwellers with their finest displays, and every now and then, one can come across with the more exotic medicines of the east and strange creatures from as far as Arbren and the Otherlands. Though it is daytime, numerous torch lamps are lined out to provide some warmth and light during the darker and colder days. The streets are no longer packed with snow, as the midsummer days have driven any frost back further north; here in the central province, the people rejoice in preparing for the celebration of a fine summer and another reigning year of life for their king.
"The days that celebrate the king's birthday are known as the Red Summer," the prince explains. "Mathias' birthdays falls almost directly in the middle of summer, so throughout these days, we celebrate the gifts of the warmest months and the prospering health of the crown." He passes by a banner and reaches out to touch the fine red fabric and asks his pet to do the same.
"This is made of wool from the sheep in the west," he explains. "They are given a new design each year in the east, woven in the north, and dyed in the south. Then, they are brought here to the capital as a representation of the unity of the five provinces in Crodinia. The red represents heart and strength. If you've noticed, it is the color that the Sun King wears the most." He holds up the banner in front of his pet and angles it around his chest. "Only members of royalty can wear crimson red on their bodies, but I think you would wear it well."
His pet's eyes move to the fabric and stares at the color. It is not quite as rustic as blood but both soothing and unsettling as the setting sun. It is a bold color, nonetheless, and he thanks his master for thinking of him.
The prince smiles for his pet and takes his hand. "While non-royalty may not wear crimson, per say, anyone is allowed to accessorize with it to show their loyalty to the king." He points to some people window-shopping for stained glass ornaments, donning large red ribbons in their hats. "See? It can be something like that." He looks to his pet and stares, thinking of how best to dress his pet for the Red Summer.
"I have an idea, Leon: we'll look around the shops for something that suits you and me. Everyone is recommended to wear red for the king's birthday, so we should find something, too." He eagerly pulls his pet along with his hand in one and his chain in the other. For a few hours, they browse shop after shop searching for the perfect accessory, but none suit the Altorienese boy whose foreign appearance does not completely match traditional Crodinian fashion. They stop by bakeries in between searching, sampling different jams and breads and tasting sweet cakes filled with creams and fresh fruit. They watch performances and plays on the streets, listening to the jokes and shows of the actors and jesters. All throughout their trip, however, they do not settle on anything ideal. There are several ways to wear red, but the prince cannot find any singular object that properly represents his pet.
"Hats don't suit you," he sighs and exits the clothing store, dragging behind his pet's chain through the streets. "We've almost reached the end of this area. Leon, shall we head back?"
His pet bows. "Whatever you wish, Master."
The prince cannot help smiling. "Saying it like that leaves me indecisive, but I think we've done enough shopping for today. Mathias' birthday isn't for another four days. I'm sure we can find something until then."
As they settle on returning home, he explains one last key component of the Red Summer. "I've told you of the royal color, but I've not told you of the banners' design." He shows his pet to a banner and runs his hand down the length of the design, a cross woven with clover blossoms in a glimmering golden thread. "It is the Crodinian Cross, the emblem of our kingdom. The five points represent the locations of our provinces, and together, they are a single unit. It is a key part to our identity." He laughs airily. "Funny. I've never told you about it before because I've found it so normal to see it."
His pet looks to him. "Your brother wears one."
The prince smiles. "Yes, you're right. My brother wears the golden cross in his hair. It's a royal accessory only passed down to the king's wife, or in Mathias' case, his husband. The cross, itself, is fashioned out of oakroot for stability and boasts a pure gold coating for wealth. And the cross shape, as you know, stands for unity. Mathias inherited it from his father after his mother passed away, and when the right time came after the war, he proposed to my brother the same way his ancestors proposed to their queens. My brother seldom removes his cross." He stops and attempts to visualize his pet wearing such an accessory in his hair. "But…maybe it's not suited for everyone. Come, Leon."
They travel through back towards the castle walls, looking one last time at the vendors as they pass when they reach a tavern. Drinking taverns and inns are fairly popular in the capital with merchants and business representatives looking for a place to congregate and rest. Being that it is the Red Summer, the rate of alcohol consumption is higher than in the rest of the year, and even soldiers who are supposed to be watching the streets cannot resist a good round of drinks. Some of these said soldiers spot the prince with his familiar white hair and his pet with his golden chain around his neck. Laughing the soldiers point and mock the pair, their faces red and their minds clearly impaired.
"Look at that, men! Have you ever seen something so hilarious in yer life? The mutt has a leash!"
"Can't run away from us now, can he?" another laughs, and the rest join him in what is obviously a drunken fest. They are not in their right minds, the prince tells himself. Their judgment is not fully conscious. They are not thinking clearly. The prince knows this. He knows it well, but inside of him, he begins to burn with a festering rage. How dare these people mock him and his pet. He is their prince, brother to Lukas Bondevik, the Shadow and second-in-command to the Kingdom of Crodinia. Mathias Køhler, the Sun King and rightful king is his brother-in-law. Any logic and restraint passes over the prince's head as he marches over to the soldiers, dragging his pet behind.
"I am the prince of Crodinia," he claims with an unfaltering voice. "You have no right to mock my pet in that way. Doing so mocks me, and it mocks my brother and your king. Apologize at once." But instead of the apology he expects, the soldiers laugh his words off and continue to drink.
"Yer just a pretty little face, prince. An' no matter what you say, Altorienese trash will always be trash." To make a point, one of the soldiers takes the blunt end of his spear and prods at the Altorienese pet; however, with his impairment and Leon's quick reflexes, he never manages to strike him once, and before anyone knows it, the sound of chains rattles above the laughter.
"Leon!" the prince gasps, as he feels a sharp tug at his hand as his pet goes out of control and throws himself onto the soldier who tried to attack him. "Leon, stop!"
But his pet does not listen, instead tugging harder on his chain until it hurts for his master to hold on. The collar sinks into his neck until he can feel the wind and blood blocked of proper circulation. His throat gags for precious oxygen, and his eyes begin to bulge within their sockets, yet his stubborn nature persists. The entire time, the prince bites back tears as the metal digs into his fingers and sinks into his skin, bruising them and paining him.
"What's the matter, dog?" a soldier smirks as he sees the boy still immobilized. "That leash too heavy for ya?"
At that very moment, the prince cannot hang on any longer. His fingers slip from the chain and releases Leon on the soldiers. What unfolds can only be described as hectic. Without his masters' leash, the boy starts to attack the soldiers, moving around them and kicking them off their feet. With these soldiers not wearing heavy armor as their castle-stationed comrades, he easily finds vital points and delivers quick jabs to their gut, neck, and shin. In such a closed area with their breaths heavy with alcohol, the soldiers have a difficult time pinpointing the boy who moves like a snake, winding around them and tripping them on their own two feet. When the men are on the floor, he spits down at them and kicks one of them in his side.
"Don't insult my master again," he growls and rejoins the prince at his side. Immediately, his voice and eyes soften, and he looks at his master with genuine concern. "Master, are you alright? I'm sorry I did that. I couldn't let them stand by and insult you."
The prince's eyes are large and round. His face is ghostly pale as he sees the injured soldiers lying on the ground. Granted, none of them are direly wounded, but this may not go unnoticed if they are smart. They will take this matter up to the king and his brother in the hearings if they so choose, and given the circumstances, he has a sinking feeling that he might be seeing them again.
For now, however, he quickly takes his pet away, and they hurry back to the castle before the soldiers think of pursuing them. The entire way, he forgets of his pet's chain and holds him by his hand, his fingers still raw and sore from the events before.
"Leon…" He stops and pants, unused to this pacing and atmosphere. "Never do that again—if not for me, for you." With the soldiers and commoners thinning out, he throws himself onto his pet and holds him in a deep embrace. His heart wants to explode. By doing this here and now, both of them can get into serious trouble with his brother, yet he cannot think of his pet suffering a punishment worse than his previous one. "Please promise me, Leon. If my brother finds out, he will do terrible things to you. I don't want to see you like that anymore. We will not speak of this to anyone, understood?"
"…Yes, Master, I promise," his pet whispers into his ear, and returns his embrace. When the moment ends, his hands move to his master's fingers that are reddish purple from pulling at his chain. "I hurt you…Please forgive me."
The prince shakes his head. "No. I pulled you through the streets so much that before I realized it, my fingers were bruised." He brushes his pet's bangs aside and kisses his neck. "I am the one who was reckless. There is nothing to forgive." Staring at his pet's collar, he pulls it forward and tugs down at the thin fabric between the metal and his pet's flesh. The entire area around his throat is dark purple. Despite nearly choking himself, Leon still intended on preserving his master's dignity at the cost of his own life.
"Oh, Leon…" The prince chokes up and pulls his pet face to his chest. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" It is difficult to look past it all. No matter what his brother says, Leon feels human to him. Beneath his skin and bones lies a beating heart and further in, a soul. Property or not, he cannot shake off how his pet has slowly become a part of his life, and while he does not realize it presently, the impact is growing.
Moving away in case the knights see them, the prince brings his pet's hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles that are slightly bruised from striking out at the soldiers. Leon does the same, opening his master's palm and tenderly kissing the sores. The pain is not as apparent, and the prince is grateful to have chosen such an understanding pet. He leads Leon by his hand, and together they walk towards the castle without thinking of the commotion in the city. His mind has since moved on to thinking of how to decorate Leon for the Red Summer.
The prince and his pet approach the castle gates when one of the royal guards stops to tell him that his brother is waiting for him in the centermost courtyard. The prince's heart almost stops at the thought that perhaps the Shadow had somehow gotten wind of his pet's misconduct. However, he rationalizes and convinces himself that it cannot be possible. His brother has been in the castle the entire time, tending to the decorations and organizing events for his husband's birthday. The last thing he needs to be interrupted for is the news of a little scuffle down in the city. So, without further stalling, the prince takes his pet to the courtyard to meet with his brother.
As soon as he arrives there, he sees familiar faces: his brother, Mathias, and a few select advisors he has encountered in the hearings. But none of them are the ones who stand out to him the most, for beyond the men looking his way, he sees another face, one that is by far familiar but one that he has not seen for a long time.
Forgetting about his pet, the prince's grip loosens. His heart and eyes flood with emotion, and he stops, unable to control his body anymore, save for his trembling lips curving into a welcoming smile.
"Mother…"
Had one not recognized her, the person might have glanced over her altogether. Her frame is thin, sickly to some physicians, and her stature weak. The prince remembers his mother being pale, but never did he think she would boast a complexion paler than his own. She looks as white as a sheet and could easily blended in with the young winter's first snowfall. Her once light-blonde hair now drapes over her shoulders in fair, white cascades as though dressing like a Tabrinish bride.
The one thing that remains unchanged is her motherly aura. The very way in which she smiles at him triggers fond memories of his childhood, before the days of war and leaving his beloved home in the west behind. When she speaks, it sounds of the same glass-like bells: incomparably beautiful and yet so fragile.
"My sweet Emil, it's been so long. Please come here and let me touch you."
"Yes, Mother…" he speaks with a quivering voice as he approaches her as composed as he can. There are others here besides his brother and Mathias, and he knows he cannot let his childish nature take hold of his emotions right now. When he reaches her, her thin, spidery fingers reach out and touch his face. Her hands are cold and frail, but it is still the same sensation he has felt in the past. As she trails her fingers over his skin, his eyes shut, enhancing his mother's touch. It is all real. His mother is really in front of him after all these years. It is not a dream anymore.
He wishes the moment could last forever. He allows his mother to examine every inch of him, feeling his hair, measuring his shoulders, comparing heights, holdings his hands; no amount of his exposed body goes unexamined by her. The prince starts to find it odd. He remembers his mother always holding him, but this is unlike her usual hugs or kisses. It is as if she is studying him. Granted, when she at last removes herself from him, his eyes wander to her face, and he starts at what he sees.
Where two pale lavender eyes should be instead lie clouded glass orbs staring blankly at him. He was so overwhelmed before that he did not notice it earlier. It pains him to see her this way, forever staring into darkness. It is no wonder why she wanted to study him so much. She cannot see him.
"Mother…you're…" He chokes. He cannot finish speaking. It hurts that she cannot witness how much he has grown after all these years. Had he known the last time she would gaze upon his face was eight years ago, he might have made a stronger attempt to see her before her sight left her.
His crushing thoughts hardly come through as he feels his brother place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Emil, please understand. Mother has been fighting her illness for a long time. We've not known of this because she didn't want us to worry for her. She may have lost her sight, but she managed to preserve her life. We should be grateful that she hasn't lost anything else."
The prince dryly swallows and agrees. "Yes. Of course. I understand. Mother, I'm so glad you're here. You have no idea…I was so happy when I heard you were coming here. There are so many things to tell you."
His heart leaps when she smiles for him. Even after losing her sight, her love is unchanged. "I'm sure everything you have to say will do nothing more than please me, Emil. It's so wonderful to hear your voice. Both of you have grown up so much."
Both her sons exchange light smiles as the moment is bittersweet. Finally, they are reunited if not entirely, but such moments are precious, few, and far in between. They hope to make the best of it this Red Summer and cherish it while it lasts.
"I haven't properly been introduced to your husband yet, Lukas," their mother brings up. "My assistants have been reading your letters to me, and all of them have found him so charming and refreshing."
She cannot see her son's expression, but Lukas' lips tug to the side as he turns back at Mathias who looks like he wants to burst with emotion. "Those qualities are…some of the many traits he possesses, Mother. Mathias, are you fine with her 'looking' at you?"
At the question, the king pops up from his place and hurries over in an excited state. "Of course, I'm fine, Lukas! I finally get to meet your mother, and you have to ask?"
"Mathias…" Lukas hisses a warning at his husband to tell him to behave, but the king ignores his tone and takes ahold of his mother-in-law's hands.
"You've raised two wonderful sons, Mother. I can't thank you enough for bringing them into the world." He gingerly shakes her hands, and all the while, she laughs like glass wind chimes.
Wrinkling his nose, Lukas elbows his husband and mutters, "She's not your mother, Mathias. What do you think you're trying to do, kissing up to her like that?"
"We're married, Lukas," the king cheerfully reminds him.
"Oh, no, it's really alright," she chuckles. "I can already tell you're much stronger than my sons. It's so wonderful to have someone bring a little exuberance into my sons' lives. Lukas and Emil both inherited my husbands' stoic natures, you see, so I appreciate you being a part of their lives their fathers couldn't give."
On that note, the prince looks to his mother. "How is Father, by the way?"
"Well enough. I rarely hear his voice these days. It's embarrassing for him to see me like this, and even for my sons to witness how weak I am." She lets out a delicate sigh as if she will break with a single touch. "But we all agreed that this visit would be good for everyone." And everyone can agree.
It is not long after their exchange that the advisors beckon their king to consolidate on the events that will take place in the capital. With Mathias taking Lukas with him, the prince has his mother all to himself, and they tour the main castle together, catching up on the things that could not be written into parchment.
"Mathias and Lukas—they fight so much, Mother. Just a few days ago, they were engaging in swordplay all because Lukas didn't like the way Mathias was practicing with the younger knights."
"Oh? And who won?"
"Lukas did."
His mother laughs. "Imagine that! Your older brother besting someone like Mathias." The prince enjoys the way she casually addresses the Sun King by his first name as though they are old friends. Being connected to him by family, there is a definite sense of connection between her son's husband and herself. Having grown up most of his life without his mother, the prince can also understand why Mathias desires to cling to her so much.
"Emil, Mathias appears to be so wild and robust. I have to admit, when I heard your brother was marrying the king of Crodinia, I never could have imagined what sort of person Mathias must be to win his heart over. It is, I suppose, as they say: opposites do attract."
"I guess that explains the fighting," the prince nods. He pauses to guide her towards the stairs that lead to his favorite balcony. She will not be able to see it, but he hopes his words can paint a fair enough picture for her to visualize.
"And who is the one following behind us, Emil?" his mother suddenly asks when they complete their trek. "There are three sets of footsteps I hear. The chain is a dead giveaway, too. I may be blind, but I still have my hearing."
The prince faintly smiles. "You do, Mother, and you're right. I couldn't introduce him earlier, but his name is Leon. He's…well, you can say he's Lukas' birthday present to me."
His mother appears confused, as she cannot grasp how a person can be considered a gift of property if at all. It is also understandable since the last letter he ever sent to her was before his birthday.
"He's Altorienese," he tells her, and he thinks that all he needs to say. However, his mother thinks differently and requests that she examine him with her own hands. The prince is initially reluctant to show him to her, but after seeing how harmless the exchange will be, he instructs Leon to move forward.
Out of everyone, Leon is the one she examines the longest. Not once does she stop to make a comment or leave his face, feeling every lock of hair and skin with her fingers. The prince watches the exchange, fascinated by how his pet takes this. Not once has he ever let anyone in the kingdom besides him touch him like this—save for the time his brother dragged him away from the dead guards and threw him at his feet. This, however, is a unique kind of exchange. Leon is just as fascinated by the whole event, his eyes wider than ever and constantly following her movements. When she leaves him, it is as though he awakes from a dream, snapping out of an alternate reality and still dazed from the memories of another world.
As the prince's mother speaks, her voice is soft and sincere. "Leon, is it?" She pauses and waits for Leon to respond with a soft nod, and though she cannot see the gesture, she waits long enough for him to finish. "You're a very special boy—no. Not a boy. A young man now, aren't you?" Again Leon nods, and the prince is speechless. How would his mother known his Altorienese pet is an adult and not a boy? As he ponders his questions in his head, his mother continues to speak to Leon with a smile that never wans. "The fact that you are here with my son is enough to convince me you're a good person. Please protect him well. And Emil, darling?"
The prince starts and responds. "Yes, Mother?"
"Please look after Leon. Treat him with the same kindness your brother and I have given you. He is more than a responsibility. I hope your brother gave you to him with the same intentions of showing that to you."
"Y-Yes…" the prince's voice fades. He is not sure if his mother is correct. When confronting his brother with the question of why he was given Leon, he was told that he needed to practice learning how to conduct himself with an air of responsibility. If he can raise Leon to be a presentable model, an Altorienese prisoner and commoner from his fallen empire's lost war, then he should have no problems being able to withhold his status as prince of Crodinia. He has never exactly given his brother's motives much thought other than what he was told up until now. Perhaps, he thinks, this entire time, he has been blinded by following his role's expectations instead of his own judgment. It has come to pass that he is treating Leon more of a person than a pet; the fact that he chose to hide Leon's resistance in the city is proof of that.
His mother returns his pet to him, and they continue on their way, talking about the little things like the sheep whose wool was plentiful this year and the large array of cheeses and creams the chefs have invented for dinner parties. Hand in hand, the prince is in the center of them, his mother on one end and his pet in the other. Surrounded by these two, he forgets if not for a short moment that he is in the capital bound by his royal allegiance to the crown; he is Emil Steilsson, a simple young man with simple aspirations of desiring nothing more than to live comfortably and happily with the people most precious to him. They are all here under one ceiling to celebrate this glorious Red Summer, and Emil cannot be any happier.
It is as though all the kingdom's worries dispel within the following days of the Red Summer. With the Sun King turning twenty-three, he is one of Crodinia's youngest kings in history and a refreshing breath of air to children and elders all alike. On the day of the king's birthday, a parade travels through the capital with golden chariots and red streams of fabric flowing through the streets like a river of blood. None take it as an ill omen, seeing it instead as a sign of good fortune to come as the heart of their kingdom beats with a strong core.
At the king's side, the Shadow remains sitting while his husband waves at the spectators. He has never been one to enjoy socializing or making a spectacle of himself in public. Though he understands how the common human mind works, he never particularly enjoyed mingling with strangers. He is fine hiding away while his husband gets the glory and attention. Today is Mathias' birthday, and he will have plenty of time to celebrate it with him personally tonight. For now, he sits and watches his husband bask himself in his kingdom's celebration, his uniform of red and his beaming smile shining brighter than the sun itself.
Behind the king's chariot is a carriage holding the prince, his mother, and his pet. Leon is constantly peering outside of the window at the spectators waving at the passing chariot. Occasionally he steals glances his master's way and sometimes to his mother, who can only enjoy the music and smells of savory meats and sweet breads. He studies the faces like a curious cat who looks outside of a window for the first time, completely speechless at the amounts of Crodinians lined up to see the king with their own eyes.
"Your letters tell the truth," the prince's mother smiles as she continues to listen. "They love Mathias as their king."
The prince smiles in return. "They loved his father, too, but for Mathias to be so young and open to new ideas probably made them feel more free." He sighs and looks out of the carriage. "But it might also be because he ended the war under his reign."
"Perhaps, but I wouldn't want to put my options on a single fact like that," his mother says. "I've heard of stories about Mathias and your brother. They've worked so hard to repair Crodinia and manage Altorien with the other kingdoms. It wasn't just winning the war, alone, that made Mathias the beloved king that he is today. Just listen to those people, Emil."
"Yes, Mother," he breathes. "It's wonderful."
The parade circles through the outer perimeter of the capital for the entire afternoon until it arrives back at the castle's front-most courtyard. This year, the king thought it best to open the gates to the commoners for banquets, games, and friendly tournaments. Everyone from any classes or any part of the kingdom can participate and explore the castle's outer perimeter for this one day, and while it breaks some restrictions down, the Shadow made sure there were no holes in royal security. Throughout the courtyard are men armored at the ready with sharp eyes and sharper weapons in the case trouble might arise. In contrast to the children laughing and men dining on food provided by the castle chefs, the knights who have sworn themselves in today cannot afford to participate in the festivities.
"It's only the ones who made an oath who are here guarding us today," the Shadow says as he tours the premises with his brother and pet. "The ones who wished to spend time with their loved ones were free to do so. It's the Red Summer, after all. They are allowed to do what their heart desires. Of course, the ones remaining undoubtedly have the most devotion to the crown, or they would not be watching over us, otherwise."
The prince takes fleeting glances at some of the soldiers stationed around the jousting section where a gathering of commoners piles over fences to watch the action. "Was it really the right thing to do, letting most of the guards leave today?"
"You'll come to understand that our subjects you see here are only human." The Shadow rarely makes contact with his brother under the public eye, never stroking his hair or so much as giving more than a few seconds' worth of eye contact. It is as if he treats his own brother like a ghost in these times, and while the prince has learned to predict this behavior, he has not grown used to it. "Peasants, knights, kings…the lot of them are flesh, blood, and bone, Emil. When you boil it down, they only think of themselves. It will not be up to me if they want to stay or not; that is their decision. The ones who chose to take the day off were not in the right mindset to serve our king. Does that make them any less capable than the ones we see here now? No. It just means at this moment, they would rather devote their time and energy into something they find more important to them.
"In the possible—not probable—event that there is an attack on a day such as this, the knights may have to fight. Had I forced all of the knights to maintain their positions today, when they would be pitted in a life or death situation, most of the knights would be fighting for their lives—not the king's. To me, a knight who will not put the life of my husband's before his own is not a knight fit to serve him on his birthday."
"I understand," the prince says. It is in rare conversations like these that remind him that his brother is married to the king. It is not a simple relationship or bond of friendship or foolish love. The marriage between royalty and childhood friends runs deeper than any political affiliations within Crodinia. He remembers the day he returned to the capital. After the war ended, the soldiers dissipated throughout the five provinces, and Mathias and Lukas returned home. In that war, the kingdom lost their ruler, but his son would be crowned in a short amount of time as the new king of Crodinia. It was not long after the coronation when Lukas told his brother that he and Mathias were engaged.
It had never been heard of for a king to take up a husband, not just in Crodinian history, but the rest of the kingdoms, as well. It was tradition that the king passes the golden cross down to the one he chose for a queen, yet Mathias chose differently. His father told him to present the golden cross to the one he would protect with his heart; it may have been influenced by the fact that Mathias' mother was not of royal birth but of peasantry blood. Like his father before him, Mathias chose to wed out of love and devotion, not of politics and maintaining status.
Lukas, too, was surprised when his childhood friend suddenly proposed to him without any hints. Always holding to the thought that his friend would marry someone from one of the neighboring provinces, he became set on keeping Mathias at the level of a good friend. Never did anyone else besides Mathias know whom he would present the golden cross to, but in the end, for his own reasons and his king's, Lukas accepted the golden cross. The two were wed the next spring when the first flowers broke from the late winter snows and bloomed all over the capital fields. By then, Mathias became a respected king in his own rights, and his and Lukas' marriage was blessed under oath of the gods and crown. Mathias became the Sun King, and Lukas had been granted the mysterious title of the Shadow.
Slowly, the prince began to notice the little signs between his brother and his new king. The bond they shared ran deeper than what he initially thought. In that war, they fought alongside one another, protecting each other above their own people as if they were the only ones who mattered. Lukas once mentioned he was only living for two people in that bloodbath: his brother and Mathias. Both brothers could except the same from Mathias, and they never bothered to ask him on the matter. It was simply known. And perhaps somewhere along the way, the prince began to drift from his brother. What was once his now belonged to Mathias, his king, in heart, body, and soul. First and foremost, Lukas weighed his concern on Mathias; whether following his role as second-in-command to his king or as his husband, the prince still does not know, but he cannot find it in himself to ask his brother. It is understandable that Mathias is the Sun King. He and Lukas go hand in hand together in ways that two people can only be perfectly compatible. There is a part of Lukas that the prince lost to Mathias but a part he can never hope to express towards his brother. In that way, he supposes it is only fitting that Lukas is more devoted to Mathias than he is his brother. The prince wonders if he will mature if he can accept that axiom.
Thinking of Mathias, his loud voice becomes prominent when the brothers near the wrestling arena. As a test of raw strength, grown men are stripped of their armor and wrestle one another to the ground until one yields. Lukas lets out a deeply rooted sigh when he sees his husband participating in something like this and quickens his pace towards the ring. As he nears the crowd, it is as if an invisible bubble surrounds a set perimeter; the spectators move away from him, never touching him as he easily makes his way towards the arena and snaps at his husband.
"Mathias Køhler, what in gods' names are you doing?"
The king grovels and loosens his hold on his opponent, a burly man roughly in his thirties. He is not as fit as Mathias, but what he lacks in muscle, he makes up for in size and weight. With the match technically still in session, it is difficult for Mathias to concentrate on two things at once.
"Oh, Lukas, yer just in time to see me win," he grimaces as he rolls over and transfers his opponent's weight over to the other side. "Didja come here to cheer me on?"
"No, idiot. I came here to tell you to put your armor back on. There are people all around us. You never know when someone might make an attack on you."
Mathias gains the upper hand and pins his opponent into the muddy grass. The spectators howl and shout as Lukas grinds his teeth together in frustration. "Lukas, yer too stiff. Ease up. It's my birthday. Everyone's having a grand time except you. And besides, Emil's not wearing any armor or anything."
Lukas huffs and gives a quick glance towards his brother who has his pet trailed behind him. "He doesn't need armor. He has that boy—and me. Don't make me a shield for you, too, you oaf. I'm not playing games here."
"He's not playing games here because they'll be doing a different kind of wrestling in bed!" someone jokes. Like the sword-fighting match, everyone bursts into laughter just as Mathias' opponent yields from a weak stomach. The prince notices how unaffected his brother is by all of this. He was never one to be insulted by the fact that he and Mathias are two married men. What happens behind the locked doors of the king's chambers stays between them. He has never found it to be anything to be ashamed of, so he sees no reason to start seeing it otherwise now. With a violent kick in Mathias' gut, Lukas growls at his husband one more time.
"You're done here, Mathias," he hisses. "Now get to your feet before I make you beg like a dog."
"On it, Lukas!" the king cheerfully springs up to his feet and brushes the dirt off of his tunic. "Didja see me win?"
"Clearly so," his husband humors him. "Get dressed. You might as well speak with some of the commoners while they're here." They move right on past the prince and his pet, making small talk and poking fun of one another like a young couple in their early stages of love. The prince hardens his grip on his pet's chain, thinking of how genuine their relationship is.
"Come, Leon," he says and gives the chain a light tug. "Let's leave them be. We can go see what everyone's doing at the archery stands."
The entire afternoon is spent touring the castle grounds and observing the various activities the attendants and servants have set up. Every once in a while, the prince watches some of the sporting matches or children's games. He never participates in any of them, giving the reasons that he is either not fit to participate in heavy athletics or because he is too old to play with children.
"My mother said you're not a boy but a young man," he remembers as they snack on sweet breads filled with creamed cheese. "I never asked you, Leon, but how old are you?"
His pet swallows his bread and looks to him. "I turned sixteen on the first," he casually tells him.
"The first?" the prince gasps. "But that means your birthday was but four days ago! Leon, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
The Altorienese teenager—now that the prince knows his age—shrugs and presses his lips to his bread. "You never asked, and it isn't important."
"But it is, Leon," the prince insists. "Sixteen is an important birthday. It's the age we consider you becoming an adult. So my mother was right after all…" He reaches out and strokes his pet's neck. "The least I can do is get you something. I would even get my puffin little gifts on his hatching anniversary. You deserve something, too."
"I couldn't," his pet refuses. "Master, you've done so much for me already. I'm just grateful to be alive."
"Leon, I insist," the prince presses. "I feel awful for not knowing sooner. Had I known, on that day we went into the city, I might've been able to find something for you."
His pet shakes his head. "Everything I need is right here, Master. There is nothing you need to do for me."
The prince cannot help chuckling. "You're so humble for someone who fights so well. But I think I can trust you still." He digs into his pocket and pulls out a small ring of keys. There are only three keys dangling on the iron chain, and one of them unlocks the collar Leon wears. "Leon, I can trust you, can't I?"
His pet's lips quiver. "Master…forgive me. I cannot answer that honestly." He looks at his knuckles that still have faint bruises from fighting the soldiers. "I hurt you that day. I can't forget that."
"No, Leon," the prince whispers. Inside, his chest swells at how much his pet cares for him. He does not mind this sort of attention. "You did nothing of the sort. You did what you thought was right to protect me." He kisses his cheek and takes hold of his collar. "Just promise you won't do anything impulsive. You can do that simple thing, can't you?"
As he waits for a reply, Leon takes his hands and examines his palms. As he thought, there are faint red lines in between the middle where the chain snagged on. The wounds have not yet recovered despite never drawing blood, serving as a reminder of his actions.
"I promise I won't hurt you again, Master," he says. "That is the promise I was sworn to keep when you took me in. I won't break it again."
The prince smiles. "As I thought you'd say." He unlocks his pet's collar and helps him remove the ring of metal and chain. They lay it down on the stone, and the prince pulls a single red ribbon from his belt. "Leon, my mother gave this to me. She said it was from Altorien. It's made from the finest silk. Here, touch it." He holds it out to his pet, but he withdraws.
"I can't. It's from your mother." He uses those words, yet it almost feels as though he is refraining from saying any more.
"Don't worry. I have a spare, Leon. She requested plenty for the Red Summer. This is one of many. And I still haven't given you anything red to wear after all this time."
Leon shamefully examines his clothes for any sign of the royal color, but there is none to be found. With a short sigh, he leans his neck forward for his master to tie him with.
"No, Leon, I'm not going to do that. You can't tie a collar with something as precious as this. It's not meant for imprisonment." He takes his pet's wrist and places it in his lap. "It's for decoration. Wearing this kind of red means heart and strength in our kingdom. And from what I've gathered in your home empire's, it stands for fortune and luck in Altorien, right?"
His pet gives a reluctant nod, and the prince continues to straighten the ribbon. "I've always though red would look nice on you. This is as close as you'll get to wearing it in this kingdom, Leon, so I hope you like my gift." He finishes tying it around his pet's wrist in a neat but sturdy bow. The ribbon is long enough for him to use it as a makeshift leash but not so lengthy that they are never too far apart.
"It's not too tight, is it?" the prince asks as he gives the ribbon a light tug.
"It doesn't feel like anything," he responds. "Thank you, Master."
His face beaming, the prince brings the ribbon around his pet's hand to his lips and kisses it. "You're more than welcome, Leon. You look lovely in red."
Leon cannot agree more.
Update: I made a terrible mistake. I got Denmark's birthday confused with the month of June and July. Why didn't anyone tell me? *Slaps hand over face* I guess you're just going to play along and pretend Denmark's birthday is in July-or at least until I can somehow find a way to rewrite this. Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, everyone...