The Throne of Flame: Chapter Eleven

"Skipper? Are you being okay?"

The voice of the injured king brought him out of his thoughts. He had still been mulling over the staggering information that the assassin was on the ship with them, eyes locked onto the bloody hook. They would certainly have to discard that at the next available moment. Cringing at Julien's inquiry, he nodded, and decided to inform the lemur of his conclusion when the king had calmed down further. No need to agitate the situation.

He waddled over to the king, who was still sending him that piercing gaze. His eyes were so bright, standing out in stark contrast to the ebony rings around his eyes. How had Skipper not noticed until recently how captivating Julien could be? The king held some sort of power over him, and after a moment of contemplation, it became apparent that he had this ability all along and was only choosing to put it to use as of late. Skipper shuddered inwardly at the thought.

"What is on your mind?" Julien questioned, and his voice was soft and low. It was surprisingly solemn, considering how Julien had reacted to his last near-death encounters with an edge of humor. Then again, that was only when others were present. In the privacy between the two of them, he seemed to make his fear more known.

Skipper shrugged as he got to work on disinfecting the cut with the alcohol Rico had provided. Julien hissed, but was otherwise unresponsive. "This whole situation is a mess."

Julien nodded. "Well, I'm sure we've both been in the worser times, right?"

He glanced to Julien curiously, before he was reminded of the conversation the lemur king had earlier with his advisor. Guilt plagued him, a rare emotion, but he washed it away with the fact that this was no time for that sort of thing. He needed information, specifically on the prophecy that had frequented itself so much. Skipper's brow fell low as he dabbed away the fur that was bunching around the gash.

"I heard your conversation with Maurice." He admit with a sturdy frown.

Julien didn't look concerned, or even surprised, by this. In fact, for a moment, he stared at Skipper as though this was the most obvious thing in the world, but Skipper couldn't tell if he was feigning this expression or not. After a moment, Julien only waved his free hand dismissively.

"Ah, it is a small ship." He claimed, entirely unbothered by the invasion of privacy. "So, why bring this up now? Unless it is being the important?"

Skipper glanced away from the wound and to Julien's visage, but the lemur was staring at the wall. He found himself frowning. "Well… I was wondering exactly what the 'prophecy' is. I know that it's probably classified intel, but I think I fit the need-to-know criteria."

Julien nodded somberly. "Ah, that. It's… Not a happy one, you know. Not many prophecies are, but this one is especially not happy."

"I understand, but it seemed important. Can you tell me what it is?" Skipper asked, and his voice even held an edge of pleading to it.

The lemur's focus fell to the ground, and his face seemed to darken. "It was a prediction made long before I was being born, by the most highest esteemed of the fortune tellers. They said, 'On the eve of the thirteenth king of the lemurs' seventh birthday, he will die.' I am… I am the thirteenth king."

Skipper's brow furrowed, and he tightened the bandage he was wrapping a bit too tight, before he loosened it. "...Julien… You - you don't really believe that, do you? I mean-"

"The prophecies are almost never being wrong," Julien claimed wistfully, his gaze still on the wall adjacent. "The only wrong thing about this one is being that I am older than seven now - I am ten. But that is probably only because I've been procrastinating it. I left the Madagascars when I was seven, you know. I thought it would be giving me more time, and it did. But now it is catching up to me. And I..." He trailed off.

Skipper shook his head, disbelieving of how superstitious the lemur culture was. "Come on now, ringtail. It was wrong already, there's no reason to believe it's suddenly going to be half-true. Don't short yourself like that."

"I am not shorting myself." Julien explained, and his voice was firm yet not accusatory or angry. "It is the truth, Skipper. Most of my peoples in the Madagascar live to be fifteen, but the royalties always live to be shorter. There's the fossa threat, you know, but there's always the other lemurs trying to be usurping at the throne. Did you know I am a descendant of a usurper?"

He turned to Skipper, and he seemed saddened by this fact. Skipper honestly didn't know what to say, and his mouth hung open slightly at how utterly plaintive Julien looked. As though it was somehow his fault that he descended from someone who overthrew the previous lemur royalty.

Julien continued when the penguin said nothing. "We used to be a matriarchy, you know. With queens. But the last queen - she was killed by a lemur who made himself the king, and that was how the Julien kings started our legacy."

He put his hand on Skipper's wing to stop the penguin from wrapping the bandages, and their eyes connected. Julien looked so tired, so saddened by his family history, and Skipper honestly didn't know what to say. He'd never known that Julien was hiding this sort of darkness. It didn't seem all that bad in itself until he saw how it affected the lemur king; he was truly devastated by this fact, the violent history he couldn't get away from. Skipper felt a sense of protective sympathy billow within him, and he struggled to resist hugging Julien right then and there.

"I was never meant to rule." His voice softened, tender and hurt all at once as he looked away.

"Don't tell yourself that," Skipper couldn't bring himself to speak in anything over a whisper as he leaned forth, intending to appeal his words to the king. "Julien…"

The tip of his free flipper was suddenly beneath Julien's chin, tilting the king's face so that their eyes met once more, and Julien looked so utterly tired. For a moment, they only stared at each other, and once again, Julien seemed to lean in. Skipper found himself reciprocating, whether intentional or otherwise, he couldn't discern - and frankly, didn't want to. All he knew was that he wanted whatever was coming next to transpire, and he would accept it with open wings.

Julien was so close, his eyes so bright and captivating, even in their solemn, pained state. His lips quivered, fur unbrushed with the stress yet still retaining the natural beauty he so carelessly held. It was a wonder that he even allowed Skipper to see him like this. They were so close, so very, very close. A breath away, just a whisper of a touch, and Skipper's beak would be touching Julien's lips. He found himself compelled to connect them, to lose the distance and to be as close as he possibly could with Julien.

To be intimate with him, to share his warmth, his pain, and for Julien to experience Skipper's own emotions. For Julien to feel the comfort and wealth of security and happiness Skipper would bring, for Julien to understand that the entirety of their situation would all be okay, if Julien was willing to believe that it would be. Skipper had a hunch that he could convince the king of such, if only they'd kiss. Just one, simple kiss, and they could feel everything the other felt - Skipper knew it.

"My life will be ending soon." Julien suddenly drew out in a breathy whisper, his tone full of melancholy woe.

The moment the words halted, Skipper realized that he couldn't even be sure if Julien believed them himself - or for that matter, if he did, and was even remotely sad on their behalf. His suspicions were amplified within the next passing moment.

Julien looked at him, and his sorrowful expression suddenly turned into a wry simper, as though he was full of secrets and the whole escapade over his distress had been some sort of trick. The insincerity of his open emotions was palpable and yet questionable - was the smirk on his lips an indication of his acting, or was it in itself an act, as an effort to disguise the fact that he truly did experience pain? Layers upon layers of protection against the doorway to his truth?

Either the king wanted Skipper to believe he was lying, and was being untruthful about that in itself, or he was being honest about lying to begin with. The thoughts made Skipper dizzy, and yet, he found it didn't matter.

Somehow Skipper did not feel at all deterred by Julien's apparent assertion of falsehood. If anything, it only drew Skipper to the lemur more, gave him all the more reason to feel compelled to bring their mouths together. He couldn't pinpoint why he found it so attractive that Julien was more than what he seemed - perhaps it was seeing a bit of himself in the king, seeing the secretive behavior as something he could confide in with itself, no matter that the life of confidentiality was a dangerous and elusive one on it's own.

Images flipped through his mind of Julien's behavior in the past. All the joking, the dancing, the pestering, the carefree party attitude. Was it an act? Did Julien treat his entire life like a theatrical stage, constantly holding up a facade? And was he revealing his true self to Skipper now, or was this yet another seam to his costume?

Julien's eyes seemed to flutter, falling half mast, and his head was tilting, and Skipper found out he honestly didn't care about the validity of Julien's personality - if he genuinely wanted the lemur for as much as he did within the heat of that moment, then he would accept him no matter what he was on the inside. Skipper's heart was beating hard in his chest when Julien puckered his lips, and he realized that they were, in fact, going to kiss.

"Skipper! We seem to be getting close to Madagas- oh." Private waltzed in, only to find that he was interrupting what would have been a kiss, had he not walked in at that very moment.

The penguin leader instantly jerked away from the king as though he'd been scalded by a hot pan, and cleared his throat loudly. He turned to face Private, wide eyed and body stiff, and if he had the capability to blush then he no doubt would have been. Julien seemed disinterested in Private altogether, sending him what ultimately amounted to a very bored look. He wasn't trying to make his displeasure at Private's inopportune entrance inconspicuous at all, and Skipper admired that, too.

"Ah… Sorry if I was, um. Interrupting," Private's apology came off as more of a question as he rubbed one arm, staring at Skipper in a very confused manner.

"You weren't interrupting anything. I was just - bandaging his arm." Skipper assured awkwardly, holding up the bandages to exemplify his point.

"Right," Private nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that we are close to Madagascar, so… Yeah. I'll be going to the main control room, now, to see if K'walski needs any… Help."

"Right." Skipper coughed dryly. "I'll be out soon, I just need to finish wrapping this wound."

Private seemed to be in a hurry to leave, but before he could, Julien spoke up. "Private."

The young penguin winced visibly and turned to face the lemur, appearing incredibly uncomfortable. "Y… Yes, Julien?"

Julien stared at him for a moment, before he smiled that same smile he'd shown Skipper moments ago. He lifted his arms and gave very subtle, delicate jazz hands, before coyly muttering, "You didn't see anything."

I've been dying to mention this, but this is really the only appropriate time; anyway, my depiction of Julien is heavily based influenced by the likes of Jessica Rabbit, Holli Would, and Daisy Buchanan. He's deceptively charming and attractive, alluring beyond all reason. He's irresistible. He's also hiding a lot. Julien has multiple dimensions within the path this story takes. I'll elaborate on it further on but just know that almost everything he says and does, he does with a specific purpose behind it.