He remembered that day being one of the more pleasant ones of his childhood. He wasn't taller than his father's sleeve when the golden-haired man decided to show Ralph some of the better parts of the kingdom. That was the only way the young boy could escape the cold, dark walls of the castle; through his father's whim.
He had been astounded by the enormity of the world, by the unalike people they encountered, by the veil of colors the town revealed, the colors of the streets and people, of the trees and the sky, of everything.
It wasn't long before the fair child formed his first friendship; an even smaller girl, brown hair, humble, somewhat dirty. Ralph had liked her though, his six years old self never having been more excited at the idea of having someone his age to accompany him. His father smiled, warm and accepting, a few meters away, while in conversation with a town merchant. He was at a distance, but he still kept a keen eye on his venturing son, in fear that he would mingle with the perilous mass of people.
"This is a very dangerous weapon, my lady." The blonde boy swished his wooden sword around, taking a stance in front of the smiling, shy girl. He could remember her sparkling eyes that followed his rapid movement with a fascination that overpowered her, how he had smiled at her with pride, before he proceeded to stab the air with an unwavering sense of determination, especially for such a young boy.
He worked his small arms with every ounce of strength he possessed, just to impress her, and the girl clapped her hands, her clear laugh resonating through the cold air of the late autumn. The young boy offered her a cheeky grin and politely bowed, to show his gratefulness for her appreciation.
He didn't manage to stand straight again though, because a brute force collided into his side, sending him lurching forward on the parched ground, and making the wooden sword fly a considerable distance away. Ralph gave a cry in pain, as he remained on his knees, breathing harshly and clutching at his bruised torso.
He raised his gaze to see his precious wooden plaything being seized by a large, freckled hand. A bigger shadow blocked out his sun and the young fair child had to scrunch his eyes up in order to see his attacker.
"Fancy sword."
It was a child, just like him, albeit a little older, Ralph could remark. His hair was like fire, but his eyes were the opposite: cold as the cruelest, starkest winter, and their sharpness sent a striking chill through the golden boy, who shuddered under the other boy's aggressive stare. The redhead narrowed his spiteful eyes, as the corners of his thin lips stretched into wicked amusement. His gaze then turned towards the timid girl who looked at the scene in anguish, and the red boy's smile widened at the sight of her obvious fear.
"Is she your sweetheart?" He inquired, showing a pair of sharp canines. "Pretty, but not quite enough."
The fair boy gritted his teeth, a sudden fury surging through him, especially at the sound of the hurt whimper that erupted from the small girl. He pushed on his limbs, and hoisted himself back on his legs, taking an unyielding stance, and bravely scrutinizing the scary looking boy, who was at least a head taller than him. That didn't intimidate him though. Not enough to overcome his fortified will to defend the girl, whose eyes were now prickled by small tears.
"Give me my sword back."
His voice had a slight tremor to it, but the image still made the older boy raise an eyebrow at the unexpected display of courage.
"Very impressive." The fiery boy retorted derisively. He leaned back on the heels of his feet, raising the sword and pointing it towards the smaller boy, who shuffled unnerved at the threat. The air froze around them, and Ralph could sense the heavy hostility increasing to a breaking point. His body itched to step back in cautiousness, but he didn't manage to make another move, because a low, powerful voice interrupted the oncoming violence.
"What in God's name is happening there?"
The fair boy exhaled in relief when the imposing figure of the king himself approached them. He didn't look happy at all. His narrow eyes were downcast with irate looking brows as he glared menacingly at his son's rusty-haired tormentor, who now took the form of what he really was, to Ralph: an inoffensive child that posed no real peril.
Still, the red boy didn't show any trace of distress. He just lowered his arm and stared unmoved at the man who towered over him.
The king stopped when he took note of the boy, and his slight anger turned into bewilderment, his eyes following the lines of the child's physique. Ralph's confusion grew while he tried to perceive the abrupt change in his father's demeanor. He tried to comprehend what was the cause of the change by inspecting the redheaded boy as well, but the only oddity was the fact that the boy seemed to be of noble rank. His dark blue tunic and dark breeches were of obvious quality, similar to Ralph's, but other than that, he couldn't figure out his father's unusual reluctance towards the boy.
"Your grace." The boy's mocking voice was still present, but much less evident, as he bowed in respect. The king shook his head and sighed, as if the boy caused him unease.
"Where are your parents?" He inquired sternly. Ralph watched his father in perplexity, because he had rarely noticed him so serious and harsh before, and never around a child. The king was usually a lighthearted man who liked to jest. It appeared that boy was completely changing his father's disposition, for some unknown reason.
The boy's defying smile remained, and Ralph was astonished by his insolence. He hadn't seen before a person that would even slightly attempt to treat his father as if he wasn't actually the king. As if he was actually on the same level.
"Father is at home. And the last time I saw mother, she was bargaining with a low-class, quite pathetic old man." His insolent smile turned into a disdainful one, as he twisted his features in contempt.
"Show some respect, boy!" The king snapped, peeved. He paused for a moment, as if contemplating an important matter, his brow furrowed in deep thought, and the redheaded boy's grin faded. He threw a fugitive look at Ralph, making the fair boy harden his expression once again.
He couldn't bear the subtle, fierce looks the other boy was sending him right under his father's nose. He even thought he started imagining at one point, because he believed he saw the red boy slightly puckering his lips and making an affectionate gesture towards him, a gesture that Ralph had only experienced from his mother before. It was odd and out of place and he was almost convinced he had imagined it.
The tension was dispersed as his father voiced his intentions.
"Lead me to your mother."
The redheaded boy sharply stared for a moment, tentative and mistrustful, and the king repeated his order impatiently.
"Didn't you hear what I said? Lead the way to your mother, unless you want graver consequences for you." He intimidated the child, who twitched for a flickering second, before he nodded obediently. "Surely, your grace." His rigid voice was unusual for such a young person and it was like all of his previous, wicked amusement had brusquely vanished from his tone of voice, leaving only grim suspicion.
The boy's light eyes provocatively bored into Ralph for the last time, before he turned, along with the king. The fair boy's heart suddenly leaped at the perspective of his father going after that wretched lad. He was a child indeed, just like Ralph himself was, but he sensed that nothing good could have come out of anything related to the scary redheaded boy. And it was as if the king had forgotten about him entirely. He noticed the girl being long gone as well, and a panic filled him at the thought that he would remain there alone, surrounded by strangers, and forgotten by his parents.
His hand instantly sprung and grabbed at his father's sleeve.
"What about me, father?" The golden child fearfully asked. The man abruptly stopped, along with the other boy, and Ralph wanted to yell at him to go away. He just wanted to return home, without the wickedness of anyone intruding his peaceful family.
"Go along with Allister, Ralph." He pointed at a short distance, where the guard that had accompanied them stood like a block of stone near their carriage. The fair boy shook his head fervently, stubbornness clawing at him. "Go." The king insisted firmly. "I have some urgent matters to attend to right now and I don't have time for your childish play anymore." His harsh words were like a clench around the child's heart and the fair boy felt his eyes stinging, but he inhaled and tried not to cry there, not in front of everyone, because he knew he would have ashamed his father. He nodded sourly and felt a large hand tenderly patting his head. His father's last attempt at diminishing the effect of his brutal words.
The fair child then felt himself being lifted by strong hands and pushed into the darkness of the carriage, and the image of his father and that strange boy's backs turned smaller and smaller until it disappeared through the scattered crowd.
He just remembered the king muttering to himself words that confused him at the time and made him wonder, words that he forgot later, despite being imprinted into his mind for quite a long time.
"Deborah Merridew will repent for all her sins."
...
When he thought he saw Jack for the first time, in that court, hung by the arms of his guards, he was so struck by his appearance that he didn't make any bound to anyone he had previously met in his life. His childhood memories were vague, being only made of castle grounds, himself being locked between those walls, and the occasional way out when his father decided to free him. He was aware he had encountered people similar to the red boy, with burning hair and light eyes, he was still vaguely aware of the boy he had met in that day of his childhood, the boy that Ralph believed at the time he had tricked his father into leaving him.
But he had never imagined it would all dawn on him when he would see Jack standing before his father, the coppery-haired boy defying the gold-haired king with his piercing gaze and the same impertinent smile. A smile not as bright as that small boy had had, a smile that was faded somehow, but still. The same smile.
The fair prince had expected the foul glares and whispers, in the moment he had entered the castle grounds along with Jack. He felt uneasy and strained, trickles lightly trailing at the back of his neck. He could barely abstain himself from grabbing the edge of Jack's tunic in an attempt to attain stability, which was slightly ridiculous, because he hadn't felt the need to cling himself to someone since he was a child. Since he hadn't had anyone close for a while, his parents having distanced themselves from him, and his friends being literally nonexistent, he sensed as if Jack was the first person that had gotten close to him in very long time.
He didn't cling to Jack though. It was foolish, because he was the prince and future king, he was supposed to be steady and strong and not be seen as the weakling hanging on to his right-hand. It was known that the right-hand was supposed to help him, advice him, and in this case, even protect him, but Ralph hoped the latter would not be necessary in any instance. Ever.
Jack didn't have the same reactions though. According to Ralph's expectations, he offered his specific, biting commentaries and showed off in his typical Jack manner. Ralph almost burst into laughs, when a couple of young people were scared to death as Jack dashed at them, loudly bragging that he would use his 'sorcerer' powers on them if they stared any longer at him with those beady eyes. The gesture made the majority of the population subtly trying to avoid them, averting their gazes and trying to pretend that they weren't interested in Merridew's arrival.
Ralph foresaw that Jack's presence at the castle would considerably change things around, and he was quite anticipating the turn of events. Naturally, it was inevitable for Jack to cause commotion amongst other people, in every possible way, and Ralph sensed that he was the one who would have to keep Jack in line for the most part.
The fair prince was a step behind the redhead, when he sighted the pale arm that was about to snatch some food from one of the wealthier guests' fastidious plates. Jack quickly aimed for a large piece of boar steak and a cheese cake, and Ralph was remotely surprised as to how the other boy could grab so much with just one hand.
In spite of this startle, the prince's indignation shot him like an arrow and made him react quicker than the boy in front of him. Before Jack could hide the stolen goods into the pockets of his ragged breeches, the fair boy sprinted towards him and grabbed the older boy's forearm in one motion.
"Put those back. You're not here to steal." The fair boy hissed, forest green eyes glaring daggers at the tall boy, who seemed genuinely taken aback for one quick moment. Jack looked down upon him with stunned, hard eyes, and Ralph feared for a split second that he was going to retort back with violence, having forgotten that he wasn't there to rob and beat people. His fears melted away when the red boy's face softened and a vague smirk marked his expression.
"I thoroughly apologize, fancy pants, it almost skipped my mind that I'm not supposed to be offensive to any of these yeasty slugs. You are aware that my custom is to leave this kind of people in their natural birth suits, in the corner of a grimy shadowed street, after robbing them." He grinned, apparently amused by his own wit. The prince glared into the other boy's face as he snatched the goods from Jack's grasp and placed them where they belonged. Jack raised his hands in mock defense.
"I mean it, Jack." The fair boy turned to him, giving the strictest face he could pull off. It felt odd, having to scold the redheaded boy in that manner, because he had never scolded anyone in his life. Usually, he was the one who was being scolded; he was not supposed to be in this reverse, absurd situation. But it seemed that the more he got to know Jack, the more difficult he believed this situation would get. The redhead was too chaotic and untamed, and almost impossibly so, and Ralph could somewhat understand why everyone had heard of him. It wasn't just the Merridew name in itself. It was Jack's ability to leave his trace everywhere he went, through his unusual and unorthodox conduct.
"You must admit it was a bit amusing." Jack spoke, watching the prince's reactions with a particular interest. Ralph huffed and stepped over his dignity, and over his cautiousness of not being closer than necessary to Jack in public, and grabbed his wrist, dragging the red boy after him.
"Come on. Father has been waiting for a while now." He felt Jack's arm tensing under his hand, but the fair boy didn't stop to ponder it. He observed how more than half of the party goers had already dissipated, the remaining people scrutinizing them like curious animals from all sides.
The music was still playing, and Ralph was sure most of them weren't even lucid anymore, which was why he felt it was temporarily safe to act a little inappropriate in front of them. Not that grabbing someone's wrist was inappropriate in any way, but Ralph was so apprehensive about what he and Jack had been doing in private, that he feared everyone could already see through their facades, and the smallest, wrong gestures would have given them away.
His mother had retreated, he regarded. And the king was partially sober, still in conversation with one of his trustworthy men. He saw neither of them, not even after both boys had prompted themselves in front of the royal table. Ralph loudly cleared his voice, so that he could gather his father's attention. For some reason, the fair boy was anxious that a terrible exchange would take place between Jack and the golden-haired man, but it seemed the king was as happy as ever and his disposition didn't change in the slightest at seeing the redheaded boy in front of him. He actually offered a half smile as he measured Jack with foggy eyes.
"Why if it isn't the Merridew heir indeed!" He exclaimed with delight. "Not much of an heir now, given that you will not inherit anything apart from a hellhole of a ruined castle." He grinned wider, and Ralph became nervous at his father's words. He wasn't usually so stinging towards other people, but Jack wasn't anyone.
The striking contrast between the two males reminded him that this wasn't the first encounter that was taking place between Jack and the king, in front of Ralph. Flashes of the young redheaded boy facing the older man passed in front of Ralph's eyes, and it briefly shocked him to acknowledge that Jack was that ginger boy that had attacked him, in his early childhood years.
He felt Jack next to him, clenching and unclenching his fist. Ralph's fingers itched to take the other boy's hand into his own, but he stopped himself from doing the gesture in front of so many people, and especially in front of his father.
"I will be happy with what I can get, your highness." Jack returned a bitter smile, his eyes darkening to an extent. The king regarded him momentarily, as if he had expected Jack's daring behavior.
"I'm glad to hear that. Because you won't need to return to your place anymore. You now belong here, next to my son, to protect him." Discontentment scratched at Ralph's mind after hearing those words that he despised so much, those words that always reminded him his father didn't think he was capable of anything. He wanted to say something on the matter, but the king continued before Ralph opened his mouth.
"After all, your beastly mother is not there anymore, and your father can handle his own lamenting self."
The fair boy leaped surprised, along with several other people whose gasps echoed in the large room, as Jack almost bolted towards the king, fists tight and face red in a startling rage. Ralph quickly grabbed the other boy's clenched hand in panic and stopped him, before the scene descended into something worse than it already was. He gave Jack's fist a light squeeze to distract him from his destructive fury, and a sudden calm took over the older boy.
Jack exhaled and slowly relaxed his hand, before he cast a rapid look at Ralph, in what seemed like silent gratitude. The prince gently nodded at him, then turned towards his father wide-eyed, not believing the cruelty that he was displaying towards Jack. The king's initial amusement was completely wiped off of his figure now, his harsh gaze burning into the red boy.
"Did you actually think I would be kind and friendly to you, after what your mother had done, my boy?" The corners of his mouth curled downwards. "I can see you have grown to be as wicked and deceiving as her, and probably even worse, since your mind is plagued by your father's lunacy as well." He boomed, his lips tightening into a single, angry line. "That is why you will be on my side. I will not allow any Merridew to stray away from the right path, this time. You will stand for my son and you will serve his needs, at all times. You will defend him from monsters that are worse than you. If I hear anything about disrespecting your duties to my son, I will have your head in no time. Do you understand?"
It was as if the entire room held its breath, while the two males battled with their silent wrath. The king's heavy one weighed down on the younger man's shoulders, while waiting for his decisive answer. Even though it wasn't much of an answer, Ralph pondered, but more of a death choice. He felt sickly regret clenching and twisting in his gut, at the thought that he was to blame for all of this. If he hadn't made Jack be his right-hand in the first place, none of this would have happened. He could have simply released Jack from his prison, without offering him that position. Now Jack was in an even worse situation than his previous one, and the fair boy quivered on the inside, as the sorrow caught his chest in a painful grip.
"I suppose I have no choice." Jack's rough voice reverberated into the stone walls. "I will be at the prince's will." He morbidly responded, the anger still in his voice, and a strange madness lighting his eyes.
"Good," The king shot back. "Now go and make yourself presentable, because I will not tolerate that poor clothing between the walls of my castle. And wash yourself of the dirt and of that blood on your face. Your violent behavior will not be welcomed anymore, except at command."
...
There was a nagging feeling of dread as the fair boy walked down the hall that led to Jack's chamber. It was on the ground floor of the castle, two levels lower than Ralph's floor, and he felt his stomach contents sway in anxiousness. His guilt consumed him, inside and out.
After the confrontation between the king and his son's right-hand took place, Jack was dismissed to be bathed and clothed properly, while Ralph was held back in the Great Hall by his father. It wasn't long before the king returned to his pleasant, cheery self, sending his humor left and right. He spoke to Ralph almost too little after the appalling encounter, mostly making references to how Ralph was supposed to inform the king every time Jack Merridew strayed from his path. Ralph promised his father that he would, before he excused himself and disappeared into the dark corridors of the castle.
He could hear his loud breath as he ran down the hall, towards the chambers at the end of it. He didn't know for sure which one of those rooms was Jack's, but he had a hunch, because he saw a light peering through the narrow opening of an ajar door. He paused in front of it and swallowed nervously, then opened it with a loud screeching sound. It was one of the poorest chambers, just as the fair boy had suspected. One bed with old covers, a table with one chair, both eaten by time, and yellowish, almost gray walls.
The state of the room wasn't the one that kept his attention at the moment though, but the image of the young man who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Ralph's heart almost dropped to lodge in his throat, as Jack's naked torso was revealed in all its glory, his muscles clenching as his arm rubbed with a damp cloth at the wound on his jaw. His body was slim, but hardened at the same time, probably by the roughness of his previous life on the street, by the physical exertion he had committed to survive in jarring conditions. In spite of his physical appeal - Ralph had to admit, his body was physically appealing, even more so than his own, which woke up a hint of jealousy inside the fair boy- Ralph noticed the scars that adorned his pallid skin. There weren't too many, but they were distinct and visible, and Ralph couldn't help but wonder.
"Will you stare much longer?"
Color rose in the fair boy's cheeks as the older one suddenly turned his gaze in his way, his pale eyes shifting up and down the prince. There wasn't any trace of hilarity in Jack's gaze, not wickedness, not sarcasm, not genuine amusement, nothing. Ralph was so used to see him at least smirk, or smile in some sort of way, that he was almost shocked at the aloof air the red boy had around him.
Ralph closed his door with a low clang, before he tentatively approached him.
"Jack, I didn't mean for any of this to happen." He spoke gravely. The pounding in his chest was too strong, like something was struggling to get out of him, a heavy and intense remorse. "I just thought it would do you good, if I acquired you to work for me." Jack's gaze was impenetrable and hard, and Ralph had the impression that the ice in his eyes was stabbing at his mind. "I had never thought that my father would do such a thing. That he would make you decide between dying by choosing freedom or dying for me. And in such a ruthless manner, nonetheless." They gazed at each other in silence, and Ralph's fingers lightly moved, waiting for Jack to respond to his words. He could not bear that the other boy would turn his back to him, after his hopes had been raised regarding their intimacy. He couldn't bear the idea of a Jack that would be by his side only physically, but not mentally.
The prince's heart skipped an abnormal beat when Jack sighed and turned his gaze away.
"It's not your fault. It's something that has nothing to do with you, in all truth. Or me, for that matter."
Ralph's curiosity was piqued, and his befuddlement climbed to higher ground. He wanted to ask, but he abstained himself. The red boy had passed through a tumult, too soon, so he didn't address the issue for the time being, even though he kept in mind to ask Jack later about this secrecy between him and the king, regarding his family, and his mother in particular. It was baffling to Ralph, what could have Jack's mother done so atrocious, that his own father had been so scandalized by her. He left the questions to better times.
He remarked how Jack was dabbing at the wrong spot on his face, the wound being lower. The dried blood was still on the lower part of his face, stretching under his jaw. Ralph's teeth nervously dug into his lip as he came closer and gently grasped at the cloth in the other boy's hand, making him look up in surprise.
"Just let me, alright?" The fair boy inquired. "You're not doing it very well." It was as if he had thrown a pebble into a lake, because his initiative had changed Jack's entire expression. His stony features lessened, his mouth curling into his usual, lightly provocative smile. That appeased Ralph somehow, because that reaction was Jack-like indeed.
The fair boy remained on his feet and positioned himself in front Jack, washing the cloth, then slightly beginning to clean the wound that he himself had caused. There was guilt, but also pride all the same, pride that he had been capable of causing such a good bruise on an older and more experienced male in these matters. He tried to concentrate on softly dabbing at the skin, but it was getting difficult, because an arm subtly looped around his waist, gently caressing. It rested there for moments, while the prince hardly worked, and Ralph's breath stuck in his throat when the other boy's hand started groping lower.
"We cannot do this now, it's risky," His own hand weakly went behind him to grab at Jack's arm and stop him, but it was to no avail, because it was like all of his strength was gone. His legs and arms went limp, and there was a certain, heady thrill that filled him, as Jack buried his face into his chest.
"Come on. It's not like anyone would dare to come into my chamber." The muffled voice came from within his tunic. A small sound erupted from within the fair boy as Jack dug his fingers into the flesh of his bottom. He paused for a moment, conflicted, before he grabbed at the older male's red curls, bringing his face up and closing the distance between them. It felt good, too good, kissing him, sliding their tongues along the seams of each other's mouths, and he gasped needy, against the soft sweep of Jack's tongue into his open mouth. Jack tugged him even closer in between his legs, working his arse with calloused hands, and Ralph shivered into his mouth, his own hands resting on Jack's shoulders, steadying himself so he wouldn't fall over in daze. It wasn't long before a hand went up along his back, and roughly grabbed at his tunic, twisting him around and throwing him into the old mattress, and the frame of the bed groaned when they collapsed into it, sounding out a protest Ralph could barely hear over the rough saw of their breathing, the wet sound of their mouths, the rush of blood in his ears.
Ralph had still barely gotten used to it - the fact that Jack was kissing him and touching him, that his tongue was in Ralph's mouth - licking his way into the fair boy like he wanted nothing more than to climb inside him and feel him from the inside out, when he felt the redhead push the front of his breeches into his own, more powerful than the first time they'd done it, on the dungeons' stairs. He felt their crotches fully pressed together for the first time, and he moaned at the feverish touches, the need only becoming stronger. His hands blindly roamed over the other boy's shoulders, over his back and his scars, and all the hard angles of his body, which made the redhead rock his hips into Ralph's more fiercely, moving in a way lewd enough to make the fair boy flush and color, even after all they'd done together. He heard Jack groan into his golden hair and Ralph retorted with his own desperate sounds, that were apparently encouraging for the older boy, because he vaguely sensed Jack lifting himself to open at the front of his breeches with one hand, while his other fumbled with the laces that belonged to Ralph's ones.
"Hurry," The fair boy urged him, sweat falling down his skin, and chest almost imploding, anticipating the moment their skin would touch there. He was deliriously hard and almost boiled in impatience, his hand dashing to do it himself, when a loud knock at the door broke the entire spell.
It didn't end up with them having the good time that the prince had been waiting for, but with Ralph bolting up like he had burned himself, his skull clashing into Jack's face and making the redhead grab at his nose with a pained hiss.
"Bloody fuck!"
The blond pushed the other boy away and sprung out of bed, while quickly tying the laces of his breeches, silently motioning for Jack to do the same, but it appeared the red boy was too busy clutching at his now bleeding nose and muttering swears under his breath. Ralph tried to pay him no heed as he quickly arranged his clothes and smoothed his hair, managing in making himself somewhat presentable, and trying to put his prick down while thinking about horrible and disgusting things, before he opened the door, and offered a strained smile.
"Oh, your grace, I didn't know you were here." An elderly woman widened her eyes at the sight of him, "I was just told to fetch some licorice for lord Merridew's wound, if there are important matters, I will return later, I assure-"
"There's no need, we were done here anyway." Ralph quickly reassured her, internally resenting the inappropriate timing of the servant. It wasn't as if she was particularly to blame for ending up there at the exact moment when he and Jack were about to take it further in their snogging sessions. He breathed out, trying not to scowl at the woman, before he stepped to the side, permitting her to go in. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly at the state of Jack's face.
"I was told you only had one wound, my lord, I didn't know there were two. And one of them is still bleeding too, my goodness!" The red boy grimly grunted, his eyes still trained on Ralph's retreating form. The fair boy threw him a critical look behind the woman's back, his mind set on fleeing the place before any suspicions arose to the woman, since there were some particular traces of their prohibited act. Like their still disheveled appearances and the fact that the bed's sheets were in a particular state of disarray. He went out on the dimly lit, inky hall, and his anguish and weariness ate him from inside, but he still managed to slightly smile at the scandalized screech that burst out of Jack's chamber.
"Tie the laces of your breeches in this instant, my lord!"