Dragon's Consort
A/N: Sorry for late update. Won't promise a faster one next time.
Steven
"In three months, suitors from all over the United Realms will come to this palace for the courting season," the woman who was standing in front of the crowd said in her loud, high-pitched voice. "These are men of noble births, all looking for a respectable consorts," her gaze went over them as she paused, before she continued, "In three months time, my ladies and I will help you to polish you character and sharpen your wits, to make you all," she dramatically paused, "Slightly more acceptable."
For the umpteenth time that day, Steven had to force down another yawn. All around him, the young lord and ladies were listening to the woman's little speech intently, each of them frivolously dressed in brightly-colored clothes, high-heeled shoes, and an unbelievable amount of laces and ribbons. Some of them even had wigs which were colored, styled and decorated outrageously in Steven's opinion. Earlier that morning, a valet had come knocking on Steven's door just a few hours after he had returned from his little adventure. That valet had wanted to dress Steven 'in accordance with Johto's latest fashion', but Steven had strongly refused. They had a negotiation, and in the end, Steven had agreed to wear the corset under his white shirt, dark-blue tight breeches, a matching waistcoat, another matching coat over it, and shoes with the minimum amount of heels. Steven felt most unsatisfied with the corset, he would have preferred if the valet had agreed to abandon it completely, but 'a trim waist is the ideal form of male beauty', he had said stubbornly over and over again until Steven gave in. Surprisingly, the only thing that they both agreed upon was on Steven's hairstyle. 'My Lord has natural beauty', the valet had vaguely explained, and so nothing had been done to it.
"Do not think, not even for a second, that you hold any significance here. No, no, no. This is the palace, and you are all as insignificant as the flowers growing on the sidewalk."
Knowing that nothing important would come out of her mouth, Steven let his mind wandered to the little adventure he had the other night. He could still remember the warmth of the wyvern's body between his thighs, the gentleness of the breeze on his face, the magnificence of the whole kingdom spread out before him, and the tenderness of that mysterious rider's hand on his chest. It had been a magical night, no doubt, but for some odd reason, the memory of his first flight on a wyvern's back was overshadowed by the memory of that mysterious rider. He hadn't paid much attention to him at first, for the wyvern had taken all his attention, but when they were on the sky, all that Steven had thought about was how nice the rider's hand felt on his chest. After they had landed, Steven had taken a closer look at him, and the first thought that had come to his was, he's not bad-looking.
That mysterious rider… He had hair as red as blood, elegantly swept back except for a single strand that fell between his golden eyes. He was half a head taller than Steven, and his body was slightly bigger as well, but his touch was gentle and his hands were warm. He didn't seem to lack manners either, as Steven had observed after they landed and that rider had offered his hand to help Steven get down. And his lips… It felt rough, but for some reason, Steven found himself thinking about the rider's lips over and over again. I should have asked for his name. Steven had been too giddy with joy to remember such trivial matter. Well, in a palace this big, the chances of seeing him again is slim. Maybe I should go back to the garden tonight and see if he's there… But, he told me that I can't leave without an escort… Hmph, an escort. Why would I-
"Lord Steven!" the shrill voice jarred Steven from his train of thoughts. He quickly stood and gazed at the woman who had approached him while he was daydreaming. She critically gazed at him. "Daydreaming in the middle of orientation? How inexplicably ignorant of you. As brother of a minor lord from Hoenn who has neither name nor land, I suggest you start taking court much more seriously, unless you want to end up…" she waved her hand purposefully, "Someplace unpleasant."
Slave auction. Brothel. Steven knew what she meant to say. It wasn't a rare story in Hoenn. It often happened. Eldest brothers would usually sell their own siblings in order to eliminate competition for the inheritance. Then they would fake their siblings' deaths as a series of tragic accidents. "My apologies," Steven said, "I didn't get much sleep the other night."
"Yes, I was told that you arrived late into the night," she nodded, "But that does not give you an excuse to behave so," Again with the hand gesture, "Carelessly."
Steven was getting irritated of her voice and hand gestures, "Once again, my sincere apologies," he barely managed to bit back his bitterness.
She once again gazed at him with critical eyes, "I believe, Lord Steven, that you are going to need to work harder to polish off those… Rough edges."
"Yes, my lady."
She nodded, looking a little bit pleased, before she turned around and continued with her speech.
Steven sat back down and let his mind wandered to that mysterious wyvern rider once again.
It was hard to sneak out of the West Wing without being noticed. Even though the night was late, there were many servants roaming about the hallways, scrubbing, cleaning, polishing, walking-by… The networks of hallways were complex enough to give Steven a chance to slip around them, but there were also some close moments when he thought he was a goner. He would have escaped out of his window to avoid that kind f hassle, but his room was so high up the ground and the exterior walls were too smooth for Steven to climb down. So the only route available was to sneak down onto the ground floor, and then jump out of the first exit he saw.
Once he got outside, he only needed to walk around a bit to figure out his location. Steven gazed up at the night sky full of stars as he wondered where he should go next. A part of him wanted to go look for the royal library, while another part of him wanted to go back to the garden. After a bit of mental struggle, the part of him that wanted to see that rider again won, and so he directed his steps to the garden.
It didn't take him long to reach that particular place, and once he got there, he was greeted by the sight of that rider and his wyvern.
That rider was giving his back to Steven as he stroked his wyvern's snout, and so Steven wasn't able to make out much of him except for the black coat that reached down to his heels. For a moment, Steven wondered if he too was subjected to the cruelty of suffocating corsets and tight breeches. He studied him from afar, wondering as his eyes drank in every curve of his body. His waist isn't that trim, Steven observed, but a trim waist wouldn't go well on that rider. Just imagining it made Steven frowned.
Suddenly, the wind blew, and then as if he just picked up Steven's scent on the wind, the rider turned around. Their gazes locked for a moment, sky blue meeting golden.
Lance
"You're here, again," Lance noted first of all after he snapped out of his trance. "In the middle of the night, without an escort. I believed I have warned you about this the last time we met."
"I kept thinking about you the whole day," Steven replied, his tone painfully conversational despite his claim.
Lance didn't know how to respond to that. He had never been confronted by such a straightforward person in his whole life. The people around him were always so painfully subtle and polite, since he was the most powerful man in the whole United Realms and all that. He struggled to search for words as he watched Steven approached. The silver-haired lord reached out for Darkstar and stroked the fire wyvern gently. Darkstar growled in recognition and leaned in to his touch.
"So warm…" Steven absently murmured.
"Are you… Cold?" Lance never felt so lost at that moment. Calm down, calm down, you're the King. Handle this situation like one.
Steven looked at him and shook his head, "Not really, but your wyvern…" he glanced at Darkstar, "He's really warm. Like that one comfortable blanket in winter you never want to let go."
"Well, he is a fire wyvern…" Lance lamely replied. Keep yourself together and send him back to his room immediately. He's a young lord, it's not safe for his reputation if someone finds out he likes to sneak out of his room doing the-dragons-knows-what. "Lord Steven, you-"
"I didn't get your name the other night," Steven cut him off. "I was too excited that I forgot. It sort of irritates me that I can't put on a name on you when I keep thinking about you all day." He offered Lance a small smile, and for some reason, Lance felt his heart constrict a little.
"It's…" Lance hesitated; he wasn't used to introducing himself. Wherever he went, people automatically knew him. "Lance, my name's Lance."
"Lance?" the young lord tiled his head questioningly, "That's funny, you have the same name as the king."
I am the king! Lance frowned. Is this guy dense?
Steven
No, no, no way! He can't be the king!
By the dragons, I KISSED THE KING!
He's not the king!
AND I HIJACKED HIS FUCKING DRAGON!
It's a wyvern, and no, he can't possibly be the king!
THE KING LAID HIS HANDS ON ME THE OTHER NIGHT!
Calm down, calm down, calm down! If he is the king, WHY ISN"T HE DRESSED LIKE ONE?
WHY THE HECK ISN'T HE DRESSED LIKE ONE?
Lance
The silence that ensued seemed to stretch on forever.
"Lord Steven?" Lance hesitantly asked as he studied the blank face staring back at him. "Is there something wrong?"
His words made the young lord twitched. Suddenly, the blank look was replaced with an easy, nervous smile, "Oh right, I'm alright, I'm fine, nothing's wrong with me, and all…" his voice trailed off as his eyes began wandering around. "I think… I'll just go back to my room." Without waiting for Lance to say anything else, he quickly turned around.
Lance, however, grabbed his arm before he could leave. Steven looked over his shoulder at Lance, the panic and dread now obvious on his face. Lance was nonetheless amused. "Let me walk you back to your room, Lord Steven."
"N-No, it's fine," he stuttered as he pulled his arm away from Lance's grip, "I'm fine, it's all fine." His lips were trembling and his eyes were wide.
A desire to kiss those fragile-looking lips crossed Lance's mind for a moment, but he quickly pushed it down with rational thoughts. "You don't look so well," Lance pointed out, "And besides, it's late. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you on your way back." Especially considering how vulnerable you look right now. Blackthorn might be the safest kingdom of all the United Realms, but all its walls could not protect Steven from men's carnal desires. The thought of someone else laying hand on that silver-haired man made him shudder with disgust.
Another shorter silence ensued. Steven then looked down as he replied, "Alright." He reluctantly slipped his arm around Lance's, and proceeded to say nothing else as they made their way back to the West Wing.
For some reason, Lance felt that he needed to say something. He wanted to say something to ease the troubled look on Steven's face, but he couldn't come up with the right words. Sending the wrong message was the last thing he wanted to do, especially considering that Steven was a part of the upcoming Court. In the end, they reached the West Wing without any of them saying a single word. By the dragons, I can't even say the right words to this man. Why the hell did they make me king?
"I-I'll be fine from here," Steven immediately said as he unhooked his arm off Lance's. "I…" he paused for a moment, looking at anywhere but Lance, "I'm really sorry, for all the trouble I made." He bowed stiffly, "Good night, your highness."
Completely at a loss of words, Lance merely nodded and said, "Rest well, Lord Steven."
Without another word, Steven climbed up the steps. Lance watched him leave with a sinking feeling in his chest. For some reason, it felt as if he was never going to see Steven again.
"You said you've been thinking about me."
Those words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. When he realized what he had done, it was already too late. His words were spoken loud enough for Steven to hear.
The young lord stop in his steps and turned around to look at Lance, a surprised look on his face, which was then quickly replaced with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" his voice weakly trailed off. "I didn't know that you were… And I just thought that you are…" he shook his head, as if confused even with his own words. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."
"Don't be," Lance replied. He searched for the right words again, but nothing sounded diplomatic and yet fitting for the current situation. What am I doing? He felt as if he was drowning in the silence which he knew he needed to fill.
"I didn't really mean it any other way," Steven was the one who finally filled the silence, "It's just that… You're very handsome, and attractive. Your highness."
Stay diplomatic. Remember, he's part of the Court. The last thing you need are rumors and gossips flying around before Court even starts."Thank you." Another depressing silence ensued. Frustrated, Lance finally said, "Until we meet again, Lord Steven." Incapable of facing the silence again, Lance turned his back on the young lord and left without another word.