Kreigen

It had been nine minutes and thirty one seconds exactly. Merrill counted the moments under her breath, sat quietly, cross legged on the splintering wood floor of her Alienage home with the Eluvian towering in front of her. She was staring at her pale, bony hands, wringing them into each other as a cold sweat formed on her skin. She had been counting obsessively, trying so hard to distract herself since the door had shut with a gentle yet empty thud. The Dalish Elf sighed – that had been ten minutes and twelve seconds ago by her count, however she could feel the counting losing its power as the memory of now ten minutes twenty two seconds ago began to jostle more vociferously for attention. It sat dormant in the pit of her stomach, brooding, chastening her. She flinched as it dug in its claws, climbing up her little lean mage body to form a near painful lump in her throat. Unclenching a hand she placed a drenched hand to her burning throat. The sensation was too much; Merrill raised her eyes to gaze hopelessly at the broken mirror before her.
Her concentration was broken immediately by the sight of the ancient Elven relic; the crux of her anxiety and ultimately the catalyst that lead to the earlier conversation which was stubbornly refusing to shift itself from her consciousness. Merrill brushed her fingers delicately across the twisted frame of the Eluvian, and at the touch felt the lump in her throat uncoil into vines and snake back into her immediate awareness like poison ivy.
"Someday I'll make this up to you Lethallan"
She mouthed the words she had spoken to Hawke and instantly grabbed her hair in frustration and bit her lip,
"By the Dread Wolf Merrill!"
Three years. Three years she had waited and a better opportunity had not presented itself. The beautiful, kindly warrior had been sat here – in Merrill's own house, throwing complements at her! Even before the events at Sundermount over the Arulin'Holm Merrill had started to realise that Hawke was beginning to steal her affections, but when the warrior had handed over the ancient tool without so much as a frown, Merrill had tumbled the last few steps into full blown love. Hawke understood! She trusted her without treating her like a wayward burden like the Keeper did, or constantly reprimanding her like Anders or Fenris. Hawke had passed the Arulin'Holm into Merrill's hands without question, unflinchingly ignoring the council of the more experienced Marethari and disregarding the comments of nearly all of her other companions. It was a bold act of friendship and loyalty – perhaps even a little blind and foolish. Surely Hawke could only make a decision that impetuous if she too felt something stronger than friendship between the two of them? Even when Hawke had come round today she has seemed to be reciprocating Merrill's feelings somewhat. The kind remarks, the warm smile without a hint of pity or cynicism; it felt like Hawke had become because she wanted to, not because she felt obliged to. For once in her life, Merrill felt more than merely tolerated.
"It's hard to imagine someone more lovable than you"
She mouthed the words Hawke had used to describe her and felt an icy rush slink down the small of her back like a chilled finger. Was she lovable? Isabela was forever calling her "Kitten", but this somehow felt different, more serious. Was she lovable in the long-term, intimate sense, not just as one coos at a baby animal? Was there a chance that she could prove herself to be more than the pariah her clan were all merely waiting for her to become? If tall, fair haired Hawke with her enchanting blue eyes could love her, perhaps there was hope…
And yet, she had bottled it. She had her chance to test Hawke's feelings for her and had swallowed the words straight from her tongue and worried herself out of the critical moment. Even now she was unsure if she was merely constructing the scenario she longed for out of ambiguous cues. The whole notion seemed so dreamlike and improbable; especially taking everything she had put Hawke through into account: the Varterral, blood magic, the mirror, and practically forcing her to defy the Keeper. Merrill felt her heart sink, nothing she saw in herself was anything she thought could be properly loved. Not one inch.
"You fool" she whispered, "You're nothing but trouble"
Thinking back to Sundermount she wondered about Pol and felt guilt join her regret and worry. The elf had run straight into the hands of a monster rather than stand within five metres of her. They had been friends, once – when she had any left of her own kind. Now he lay, bludgeoned by the claws of the Varterral, all because of her, her demon, and her blood magic. Pol died because of her choices.
The concoction of debilitating emotions made the elf begin to tear up. Right now she could not think of anyone she wanted to see more than Hawke, yet she had pretty much allowed her to walk away unchecked – letting her believe that Merrill did not care for her. The young elf's feelings quickly morphed to frustration. Right now Hawke was probably prowling the Hanged Man, searching for Isabella or some other girl to fill her night. She became ridiculously certain that she had probably missed her one and only chance to win the warrior's heart. A woman like Hawke wasn't going to wait around for a troubled elven mage, too naïve to even figure out how to express her feelings.
Merrill snapped out of her self-berating and frowned at herself, chiding her cowardice. She had left behind her family, her clan, and now she was going to watch Hawke walk into the arms of another woman when in reality, she was almost all Merrill had to be thankful for, and the thought of losing her too was too bitter to imagine. Renewing her resolve, she stood up on her wobbly legs.
"Don't be so pathetic Merrill. Not this time."
She brushed the dust off her behind and smoothed her hair, trying to look less dishevelled. Casting out her rising doubts she turned on her heel away from the mirror and swung out into the Lowtown night.
The Alienage stood deserted, dark and unsettling, save for a suspicious looking male elf skulking in a far corner. He looked up at the sound of her door, squinted his grey eyes at her, then walked off. Merrill often marvelled at how little trouble she had run into in this part of town. It was almost as if someone was paying them to leave her alone…
As she padded through the dusky square in her sole less shoes, past shrouded shacks with drawn moth-eaten curtains, she was at a loss for what sort of plan she was going to enact if she did indeed manage to find Hawke tonight. At the sound of a box overturning and smashing, Merrill quickened her pace, putting space in between her and the raised male voices that sounded dangerously close. She began to regret her knee-jerk decision to run out this late at night. Hawke surely would not approve of it if she found out. She shivered and drew her tattered cloak around her trembling shoulders.
"Ma Vhenan" she whispered, "This better be worth it".

As the sound of rowdy singing, the thudding of goblets, and puke hitting the floor assailed her pointed ears, Merrill knew she was near the infamous pub. For some reason, The Hanged Man had been the first place she had thought to look for Hawke at, but the closer she got to the heaving building, the less certain she became that this had been a wise choice. She wasn't even entirely sure what she expected to find here; Isabella sat on Hawke's lap? A drunken Hawke surrounded by a crowd of patrons regaling them with the tale of frigid Dalish Elf who had turned her down? Merrill stopped in the middle of the street and bit the ends of her cold fingers, rooted to the spot with trepidation. Her feet seemed unable to make a decision of which direction to turn in next: round the corner to the entrance, or an about-turn back to the alienage.
As she stood there, getting rapidly colder, her discomfort increasing by the second, torturing herself with the worst possible scenarios available; she began to realise she may have misjudged Hawke in coming to look for her here first. Would the noble, kindly Hawke (that she thought she knew at least) really turn to such gaudy comforts in a matter of minutes just because her elven friend had taken a shy turn to her advances (if they had been advances at all)? Were there not more salient places that she would have visited first; her Hightown home to speak to her Mother? Perhaps even her Uncle's Lowtown dwellings? Merrill felt misery begin to consume her, it hadn't occurred to her earlier that she may have even upset Hawke or seriously hurt her feelings. A warrior like her was bound to have an enormous pride with a great potential to be wounded- that is if she wasn't being presumptuous in thinking she had the power to do that to Hawke. Merrill's brow began to feel inordinately heavy as she evaluated all the new considerations compounding her choice. She stared aimlessly at the walls of the cream coloured, dusty alleyway, feeling foolish.
"I shouldn't have come…" she whispered. Merrill hugged her gangly arms around her spindly body and held back a frustrated sob.
Just as she began to turn on her heel back towards home, Merrill's eyes were drawn suddenly to a swaying figure stumbling and swaggering around the corner precariously. Squinting her green eyes – Merrill recognised a familiar scantily clad woman – blue bandana askew on the top of her head. The woman steadied herself on an alley wall, before rubbing her eyes and staring at Merrill. Merrill gulped in panic and embarrassment, and made a futile attempt to skulk in the nearest shadow.
"Kitten?" Isabella regained her composure by tugging her corset up, "Are you actually there or am I imagining you?" she pulled at the sash at her waist and took a backwards glance at the male silhouette walking in the opposite direction behind her.
"I'll catch up with you for round two!"
The man acknowledged her with a nod, and carried on walking.
Merrill scurried half-worried, half-cursing to Isabella's side and helped to steady her to a straight(ish) standing position. Isabella tottered unevenly on her pirate boots.
"Kitten…" she pointed at Merrill's chest and poked her sternum accusatorily, "Why in the name of Andraste's underwear are you out here alone at this time of night" she slurred.
Merrill felt her face flush, hoping that it was too dark and Isabella was too drunk to realise how flustered the elf was,
"I…I was trying to…find…someone" she murmured.
"Oh." Isabella leered, "Well I'm busy tonight, but I suppose, if you wanted to join in…"
"IwaslookingforHawke!" Merrill rushed out before Isabella could finish her sentence. Isabella raised an eyebrow, paused to consider the implications of Merrill's statement, and smirked.
"I seeeeeeeeee" she winked at Merrill conspiratorially.
"No! I…" Merrill threw her gaze to the floor, wondering how Isabella could have possibly guessed her motives that quickly, "I mean she is lovely but I just needed a chat, y'know? About…" Merrill desperately tried to think of any excuse, "Things! Adventury…questy...things. Not…." Merrill cleared her throat, "Dirty...things. Not-"
"It's okay Kitten" Isabella put her hands on Merrill's shoulders and brought her ale-smelling breath to Merrill's ear, "Nothing escapes-"
Isabella pushed Merrill sharply aside to throw up against the wall violently. Merrill retreated and hung back, watching the women wretch against the wall. Awkwardly, she placed a tentative hand on Isabella's back – only to withdraw it quickly when the pirate uttered a guttural groan.
"I should go" Merrill spoke.
"No!" Isabella turned too fast and stumbled over, "No…" she repeated, picking herself up, "Where are you going?"
"Home -" Merrill began.
"Pfft" Isabella grabbed Merrill's wrist, "No you're not! We're going to find that human of yours."
"No, Isabella – I don't think –" Merrill babbled.
"Don't worry Kitten, something tells me Hawke might have a thing for elves" Isabella sniggered mischievously.
"Is that why she is always so nice to Fenris even when he's so moody?"
"Not exactly Kitten" Isabella began to drag Merrill around the corner, "I think it might be a specifically female thing."
"Well that will be why the Keeper likes her so much too" Merrill stated, matter-of-factly.
Isabella shot Merrill a dumbfounded look and burst into a fit of laughter.
"Oh Kitten you really are precious. Come on, you'll need protection!"
Merrill disguised a laugh with a cough as she surveyed the mess before her, not convinced Isabella could even protect herself at this moment.
"Isabella, where are we even going? I'm not even sure where Hawke is."
Isabella turned sharply and knocked into wall face first, reeling back she half-focussed on Merrill's eyes, her gaze uncertain.
"Any ideas?" she asked, apparently ignoring the previous blunder.
"Well, she might have gone to visit her Unc-"
"Great idea!" Isabella tugged determinedly at Merrill's arm, "Let's go see Gamlen! The miserable old dog will love a visit from two gorgeous young women!"
"I…" Merrill began to protest, no longer sure she wanted to visit Hawke's slightly lecherous Uncle in his run-down Lowtown shack when Isabella put it like that. Isabella had, however, already begun to drag her along in zig-zags. Repeatedly cursing herself for ever leaving her house, Merrill allowed herself to be pulled along by the pirate's unusually firm grip, guiltily wishing that her rogue friend would pass out soon and let the elf skulk back home and pretend this incident had never occurred. Tripping over her petite feet, Merrill seriously doubted Isabella could remember the way to Gamlen's house any more.
"I don't know what you would have done if I hadn't found you!" Isabella shouted back at the elf.

The square which Gamlen's house sat within could be described, at best, as aesthetically unremarkable, and at worst, as aesthetically depressing. The depressing, haphazard spikes protruding from the staircases and tracing crooked paths to the sky from the top of the high-rise buildings did not engender hope in Merrill. As she was dragged into the clearing, her feet scuffing up grit from the floor, she couldn't help but long to be in the dejected yet homely Alienage rather that prowling around the gritty, stained, unwelcoming Lowtown streets. After a quick scan of the all-encompassing collection of towers, doors and staircases, Merrill quickly counted four suspicious looking stains and one rather mangy looking, wiry dog, sniffing at all the staircase edges as he padded in and out of the dispersed torchlight. The illuminated patches seemed to huddle together and flicker as if trembling, afraid of touching any edge that remained in shadows.
Merrill snapped out of her distracted trance and realised suddenly that Isabella had left her standing on her own at the bottom of the stairs that led to Gamlen's front door. She nimbly skipped up to Isabella's side and huddled close, all of a sudden extremely uncomfortable with being out at night alone. It was something about the dog, she told herself – he had been giving her a funny, hungry sort-of look.
"This place needs some gardens" she half-whimpered to herself.
Isabella, the meantime, had been occupying herself with hammering on Gamlen's door with her fist in a haphazard manner. The door looked as if it was struggling to stay on its hinges as the thuds echoed across the deserted yard.
"Isabella!" Merrill hissed, grabbing onto the pirate's shoulders from behind and holding close to her, "I don't think…"
"Just a second" Isabella interrupted, ignoring the elf's concerns. She stopped hitting the door, brushed Merrill aside and rocked back on her heels before cupping her hands around her mouth,
"Gamlen! Gamlen is Hawke there?"
Merrill jumped to Isabella's side to plaster her hand across the pirate's mouth,
"Isabella!" she cringed, "We're going to get in so much trouble!"
Isabella removed Merrill's slight hand from her face to reveal an uncanny smirk,
"That's how you have all the fun!"
A light thud emanated from the house without warning. Merrill winced - now she thought about it, they didn't even know Gamlen that well; they had only really come in contact with him when they had first met Hawke, when she had been shelled up in his dingy house. From the little experience she had of him, Merrill suspected that he would simply shout at them and send them away. Even more worryingly, if Hawke was there, how insane was Merrill going to appear? Isabella would just be nonchalant as ever and swagger it off, but Merrill would never live down the humiliation…
"Let's run" she blurted out.
"Too late Kitten" Isabella grabbed Merrill's hand swiftly, "We'll play knock and run some other time" she winked at her friend, "I'm good at it"
The door began to shudder pre-emptively.
"Alright! Alright…I fell asleep" a voice grumbled thickly, "No need to start a blight over it!"
The door stuttered open in two sharp tugs and Gamlen stood before them, dark circles under his eyes, the lines on his face appearing etched in with a chisel. His clothes, Merrill noted, wrinkling her nose, smelt decidedly unwashed. Gamlen rubbed his greasy grey hair, moved down to his stubble, and then pressed his eyes in confusion,
"You're not what I ordered…elves?" I'm not that…" Gamlen shot a dirty look at Merrill and paused in horror as his eyes focussed,
"Wait, you're…" he sighed irritably, "You're Hawke's blasted friends!"
Isabella however, had not so readily forgotten his earlier mistake,
"Expecting someone?" she chuckled mischievously.
Gamlen coughed and became immediately fascinated with something on the ground.
"Are you expecting a visitor?" Merrill babbled, far too quickly, "Oh how nice! Sorry to have interrupted, okay Isabella let's-"
"So, Hawke isn't here old man?" Isabella cut in, squeezing the elf's hand tighter.
"Of course she isn't!" he frowned at Isabella, deepening the lines on his face into craters, "She barely ever comes by! After all I did for her! Just sits in her lofty palace and occasionally comes by to pity or criticise me" he spat on the floor, "What the hell do you want with her anyway?"
"Oh, nothing! Just…checking up on her, you know, making sure she's safe" Merrill blabbered.
Gamelen squinted, his face deadpan.
"You better have a more convincing answer than that for nearly breaking my door down, elf"
Isabella mock punched him on the shoulder a little too hard and winked,
"Well your niece is quite the dark horse if you must know old man!" she burst into a fit of laughing, which quickly evolved into a fit of coughing. Merrill and Gamelen exchanged perplexed looks as the pirate doubled over. Isabella cleared her throat,
"Okay, I have a delivery to make"
Gamlen allowed himself to snort,
"Really?" he eyed Merrill who stood mortified, biting her lips, "Is that what this is all about?" his expression quickly turned to amusement, "I thought you kept to your own kind…?"
Merrill began to panic,
"It isn't about anything! No!" she put her free hand to her forehead, "No this has all gone horribly wrong!"
Gamlen shook his head, quickly losing interest in the situation,
"You'll find he on top of her ivory tower"
"What tower?" Merrill replied, utterly confused.
"Just sod off"
Gamlen promptly slammed the door in their faces.
"That went better than expected!" Isabella slapped her thigh jovially, "Hightown it is then! I need to find my entertainment for the night anyway!"
Merrill practically flew down the stairs as the pirate raced down the steps back onto the street. She barely had enough time to process all the terrible, embarrassing consequences of the encounter that had just passed, let alone where this tower may be.
On a positive note, Isabella appeared to have sobered up enough to lead them in a straight line up towards Hightown. But with every step closer to her originally intended destination the elf took, the more she felt the awful anticipation begin to choke her under her light scarf. It was as if with every step she became less and less able to breathe evenly, her heart racing a marathon in spirit under her petite chest. She felt a cold sweat form between her shoulder blades and spread to the small of her back as she considered what she was actually going to say to Hawke once she got there. Merrill had no idea how to bring up a topic like attraction, love…sex up without getting flustered. Merrill shivered at the thought of the words alone. How could she flirt with a woman like Hawke without succumbing to the near-crippling fear of being turned down?
The houses raced by her peripheral vision as she allowed herself to be led - half-hypnotised and lost in her own crushing anxieties. Before she could begin to form a coherent sort of plan, her thoughts were suddenly interrupted,
"Pretty…pretty sure this is my stop Kitten"
Merrill looked around; they had walked a very long way without her realising, and now were stood literally doors away from the Hawke estate. They had stopped at the fancy staircase to a well maintained, noble house.
"He's loaded" Isabella mock-whispered.
Merrill smiled in a forced way, longing for the pirate to leave now she was resigned to her fate of confronting Hawke. As if commanded by thought, Isabella let go of Merrill's hand and began to stumble up the stairs,
"Thank me later after you've visited your loverrrrrrrrrrrrrs Kitten!" Isabella slurred.
"She's not my-" Merrill felt her cheeks ignite again.
"She will be!" Isabella cut in. Merrill skulked away from her friend guiltily, not wanting to be caught with the rowdy woman. Merrill turned to leave,
"Oh and Merrill!" Isabella shouted, hanging over the balcony in front of the dark oak door, "I'm bloody jealous, give her one for me!"
Isabella turned to thump on the thick door as Merrill briskly scampered away with her glowing ember cheeks burning holes through the night. She was practically at Hawke's door before she had time to check if Isabella had the right house, or to clarify with Isabella exactly what she was supposed to be giving Hawke.
 
Still reeling heavily from the encounter with Isabella and Gamlen, and praying that the pirate could just keep her mouth shut for once (she suspected Gamlen could not be bothered to start spreading a rumour), Merrill stood before Hawke's front door, rocking from foot to foot. She had already more than once brought a clenched fist to open the door, only to withdraw it in a skittish flurry. She jumped up and down on the spot as a dozen surges of adrenaline sent her heart pacing round in circles.
"Come on Merrill!"
She shivered; it was starting to really chill over as the night deepened. The moon shone on, oblivious to her suffering, spotlighting her on the doorstep. She stood, near paralysed, willing herself to just force the moment. The worst that could conceivably happen was that Hawke would turn her away politely.
Yet that would be awful! All this effort, all the stumbling around Lowtown embarrassing herself, all the heartache and self-defeating, knotted thoughts – and for what? A gentle "No thank you". How foolish would she look then, waiting expectantly in the freezing cold, having ventured through several dangerous alleyways in the black of night? Then the added layer of whatever terrible, presumptuous rumours Isabella would spread would compound the issue even further. Merrill would look like she had expected Hawke to want her and that she had prematurely bragged about it. She would have to leave Kirkwall, the shame would be too great; everyone knew who Hawke was, so the dishonour would be widespread, and without Hawke, Merrill was almost friendless. The only option left would be back to the unwelcome hands of the Dalish, and that in turn meant relinquishing the Eluvian.
At the thought of her old clan, she couldn't help but wonder what they would make of all this. A human. She was in love with a human. When she said it like that it seemed both simple and impossible at the same time. What she felt was strong and pure, gentle and deeply powerful, but at the same time against everything she had been taught in her old clan. Elves and "shemlen" just weren't supposed to mix. To give in to this feeling was to defy the very ancient lore she was trying to preserve. Did that not make her even more of a hypocrite than her clan already thought she was? It wasn't like Merrill had paid too much attention to her clan's views; she had given herself to blood magic after all. But she didn't need any more disapproval from them. The demon and the Eluvian were part of her attempt to save them; this however, was not, so it was unlikely she could justify to them at all. Merrill felt her face fall and her eyes turn away as she considered forsaking the venture for yet another time this night. If this really happened, if Hawke accepted her, then what? Would she give Hawke up for the clan's approval if it came down to it? Would she abandon Hawke for the sake of the Eluvian?
Before she could seriously consider the question she heard a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The voice was childish and near shouting in broken phrases,
"Someone at door! Pretty lady!"
Merrill froze, she had forgotten about the creepy dwarf Hawke kept in her house. She had no idea how he knew she was there, but stood stone still and held her breath, willing the rest of the house to ignore him. As she stood rooted to the spot, another, softer and female voice followed the first one,
"Are you sure Sandal? I didn't hear anything"
Merrill yelped involuntarily.
"Pretty lady!"
"Alright, go back to bed, I'll deal with this"
If she left now Hawke would probably find out that she had run away. Merrill felt unbridled panic rise and her breath draw short, she had no option now – she had to open the door. She realised suddenly that she hadn't realistically expected to go through with this. Biting her tongue hard and closing her eyes she raised a hand and threw herself through the door.
She emerged into Hawke's vast, intricate lobby, lit by a few discreet candles on the wall. Hawke stood directly in front of the door, clothed in maroon coloured, embroidered finery, a look of bemusement across her face. Merrill gasped and instantly began to talk to mask her nervousness,
(*) "Oh thank goodness you're here! I thought you went to The Hanged Man" Merrill began to pace restlessly, "and I almost went there to look for you first but then I thought you might have gone to see your Uncle instead…" Merrill paused, wondering if it was completely wise to divulge the entire of her night's journey to the confused looking woman stood before her. She gathered herself and mentally stopped herself from blurting out the more embarrassing details of her trip, "And I'm rambling aren't I?" she finished, wondering how on Earth she had managed to make the situation even worse.
As she waited for Hawke's answer she realised she had never really seen Hawke out of her bulky armour before. The gentle cloth of the expensive robes clung to the warrior's toned yet feminine body, outlining her curves. Hawke's pale face gazed on with a hint of amusement, but with a glad smile.
"I don't mind" Hawke laughed, "You're adorable when you're flustered"
Adorable. Merrill turned the word over and over in her head. There were too many ways the word could be meant. She began falling back to fretting over vocabulary again; adorable, lovable, all the sort of words you can use to describe either a lover or a pet – why did Hawke keep using them about her?
Resolving not to stand and ruminate ad infinitum over one word, Merrill continued,
"After you left I…" she stumbled over her words again, feeling inadequate and overwhelmed in the lavish setting in her well-worn eleven clothing, "I couldn't stop thinking about Pol, and the and the mirror and…"
She wanted to say "you" but quickly changed her mind,
"...and everything that's happened" she added, "I wonder if…" Merrill thought about her clan, what the Keeper would say if she knew what she was hoping from this situation, "I've made a mistake, leaving the Dalish?"
It had crossed her mind that if she had stayed in the clan, she would not be obsessing over an ancient artefact, her friend would still be alive and she would not have got herself into this impossible situation with a human. Merrill caught the patient Hawke's gaze sheepishly, secretly hoping the warrior wouldn't agree.
"You're just feeling homesick" Hawke spoke kindly, "Don't second-guess yourself"
Merrill felt an internal sigh of relief; at least Hawke still wanted her around after she had turned up looking crazy and dishevelled in the middle of the night. Hawke looked on expectantly at Merrill, waiting for the elf to say more.
Merrill felt every joint and muscle in her body clench and stiffen as the words she had been meaning to say seemed to flow out of her mouth without any conscious direction.
"I suppose if I hadn't left my people, I never would have met you"
Merrill instantly regretted saying the words the moment they left her tongue. She had said too much already without any evidence that Hawke would actually reciprocate the feeling. She began to nervously mess with her hair,
"I'm not like you…" Merrill backtracked, her expression becoming sadder by the second, "…and I wish that I were" she dropped her hand to her side, "You're beautiful and clever and you never make any mistakes and I…"
Merrill became temporarily breathless,
"I don't deserve you"
"I'm not as perfect as you think Merrill, I'm not some sort of Goddess"
Merrill looked at Hawke in surprise,
"I wouldn't be so sure about that" Merrill smirked uncharacteristically flirtatiously, catching herself by surprise, "Some, people worship you from afar you know"
Instantly she regretted the remark, recognising the inherent forwardness in the comments, she sighed and began to withdraw again,
"It's foolish of me to even dream that you might…"
Hawke's expression shifted suddenly, her gaze seemed to cloud a little, a relief of sorts crossed her pink lips. Merrill watched, waited for the rejection, every vein pumping in anticipation. The response came in a deep, mirthful reply,
"You don't have to dream about it"
Desire overwhelmed Merrill, almost forcing a smile from pure happiness when shame and disbelief overrode the feeling. How could she deserve this? She hadn't even managed to answer her own question about whether or not Hawke or the Eluvian were more important. She became impossibly certain that eventually, she would hurt Hawke, or at least someone she loved, over the mirror. She took a step back and turned her eyes from Hawke, ashamed of her selfishness.
"Merrill?" said Hawke uncertainly, taking a step towards her.
Merrill did not lift her head until she felt a strong, smooth hand cup her chin. She leant into the palm and lifted her eyes, instantly making contact with Hawke's own.
"It's alright" laughed Hawke. (*)
At the sight of the human's softened, almost frightened face, Merrill felt her worries relax and become drowned out by the natural, inevitable longing roaring in her ears. The questions would not go away, but for now, they could be wished off as far as possible from the current moment.
Merrill felt herself plunge into the ocean within the other woman's eyes, drenching herself in the warrior's wanting look. Feeling as if she was almost floating, she instinctively threw her spindly arms around Hawke's strong shoulders and breathed her in.
The touch of Hawke's large lips on her own thin elven ones was almost overwhelming. She felt tingles, little tunnels of power through her limbs almost like when she was channelling the demon through blood magic. As the kiss deepened and lengthened she pressed harder, losing her breath when she felt Hawke's hands around her slight waist. She pushed her hips into Hawke's own, feeling a rising heat between the two of them. Aching with a long-held in passion, she pulled back reluctantly to speak, their faces only inches away,
"Me?" she whispered, never averting her eyes from their locked gaze. She drew Hawke's face in to whisper in her ear, "Are you sure?"
Merrill felt Hawke's lips softly kiss her pointed ear. Merrill moaned and felt her legs weaken considerably,
"I've only ever had eyes for you" Hawke purred into the elf's ear, slipping her hands lower to Merrill's hips, tracing the bone with her thumb. Merrill struggled to keep herself from crying out as she felt Hawke's lips kiss her neck,
"I haven't…I've never…" she gasped, worried that the warrior might expect her to be adept at this sort of thing.
Hawke drew back looking concerned suddenly,
"Is this too fast?" she spoke, stroking Merrill's smooth, jet black, cropped hair affectionately,
"No!" said Merrill quickly, "Lunging back in for a kiss. Hawke gripped her closer again. Merrill broke off to speak,
"Just, don't expect…"
"Expect what?"
"Me…to…" Merrill sighed sadly, "Live up to…be any…"
Hawke silenced her with her lips, kissing her gently. Hawke pulled herself back,
"My beautiful Dalish elf" she smiled, "You're already everything I could have hoped for"
Merrill let the last of her protests float and fall to the wind like discarded feathers; light and forgotten about, carried along by a force much greater than all of them combined. Without a wing to beat them, they diminished into worthlessness.
"This is more, more than I could ever have expected" she whispered,
"You can have more…" Hawke kissed her lightly again and entwined her fingers around Merrills, "If you want to"
Merrill tightened her grip around the warrior's hand and looked up from under her eyelids, communicating an unflinching affirmative to that statement.
No more needed to be said.

Silently, Hawke turned and delicately led the elf up the wide, dark oak staircase, clenching her fingers lightly against Merrill's slender own. Merrill stepped cautiously up the grand stairs, near oblivious to the extravagant room she was travelling though. She focussed only on the rising quickness strung between the base of her stomach and her breast bone. Skipping every other breath, she carefully followed the rippling robe that led her deeper and further up into the magnificent estate. Hawke's blonde hair bobbed up and down with each step, revealing small glimpses of pink neck. Merrill mentally skipped back to a few moments ago, her own neck pressed against Hawke's lips, weakening, acquiescing to the warm sensation of Hawke's inner mouth…
Suddenly, as they reached the top of the stairs, Merrill halted. Hawke tugged obliviously before turning around to face the elf, confusion and quiet desperation evident in her flustered expression and breathing. Merrill steadied herself, and then blurted out,
"I need you to kiss me again."
"No complaints there…" Hawke replied smugly, yet warily, "But why here?"
Merrill tried to think of an adequate reply, acutely aware her judgement was becoming increasingly impaired by the closeness of the Ferelden. How corny and naïve would it be to admit she was worrying that she had imagined the whole scenario downstairs? It all seemed so rosy and, admittedly, a little too good to be true. How insulting would it sound if she admitted she needed firm proof that Hawke didn't just want…sexual related concerns to be satisfied by her?
She was certain, without direct knowledge, that she wouldn't be Hawke's first foray into the bedroom. At the same time, she was also painfully aware of her own inexperience. She has never found anyone who she trusted enough (or conversely trusted her enough) to allow such a personal invasion into her life. Once she stepped over the threshold, she would be taking one of the most important gambles of her life. Isabella had once advised her not to bet anything she wasn't prepared to lose, and although Isabella wasn't the perfect model to follow (as she would only cheat if she was in the position of losing something important), the pirate did occasionally say something with a modicum of sense attached. Merrill loved Hawke – a fact that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore by the second; and consequently, she recognised that tearing herself away if Hawke didn't reciprocate the feeling, would be something she was barely strong enough to do. She couldn't bet on crossing that boundary without a clearer sense of what Hawke wanted from this situation, because she wouldn't be prepared to lose the connection they would inevitably make, so quickly after bringing it to life.
Merrill stood before the puzzled woman and continued to say nothing, unable to form an acceptable articulation of all the worried that flitted round her consciousness like flaming arrows. She leant back against the bannister, pushing it into the small of her back, and took both of Hawke's hands into her own. Hawke furrowed her brow, watching with a look of encroaching sadness that came from the fear of losing something you wished for the moment you are nearest to achieving it.
Merrill saw this look, and instantly smarted – feeling guilty for considering the possibility that Hawke was using her. However, she maintained her resolve, and sighed out the only four words she could think of to describe how she felt,
"I need to know"
Partial relief spread along Hawke's forehead,
"I told you, we can wait, I-"
"No, I want to" Merrill squeezed Hawke's fingers, "But…" she dropped her head, "I'm not like Isabella!" she blurted out.
Hawke titled her head and frowned again,
"Me and Isabella never…"
"You didn't?" Merrill replied, a little too fast, "I mean…that's not the point, I, well it was, but not-"
Hawke took one hand away from Merrill's grip and placed a finger on the elf's lips to stop the elf from stuttering. Merrill began to concentrate on the fingertip, burning a hole through her mouth, focussing all the force of a hurricane in one, soft, point. She succumbed, and delicately bit into it, kissing the woman's finger.
Hawke drew the digit back, and stepped as close as possible to Merrill without pushing her off the stairs.
"I have been waiting for you Merrill" she locked eyes with the elf, "This isn't some one night thing, I wouldn't do that to you."
Merrill's face lit up involuntarily,
"I know." Hawke spoke simply, and Merrill believed every word implicitly.
Merrill grinned from each pointy ear to ear, which caused Hawke to lean in, and plant a kiss so tender, the lightness of it almost punched Merrill in the gut. It was so promising, so full of wanting, and the night that lay before them. Merrill placed her arms back around Hawke's neck and embraced her as close as was humanly possible. In that moment, she let herself place all her bets on the possibility that once in her life, she might get exactly what she wanted.
Icy spiders began to crawl down Merrill's legs as they broke apart, and Hawke continued to lead her down the corridor to her bedroom. A sort of overexcited nausea near overpowered her as the practical reality of the situation fell heavily onto her shoulders. She was going to the bed with Hawke – a human, one of her only friends, one of the most respected individuals in the whole of Kirkwall…and she has nearly no idea what on Earth she was supposed to be doing.
Somehow, however, this anxiety didn't filter down to her legs, as her feet carried on scuttling closer to the door. Merrill bit her lip and put all her faith into another piece of advice Isabella had given her once – when they were playing cards in the Hanged Man:
"Oh Kitten, it will come to you, and when it does…it's bloody fantastic!"

Hawke's bedroom was almost excessively extravagant. As Merrill followed Hawke through the door, she felt suddenly crippled by the overbearing nature of her surroundings. This was far grander than what she was used to enduring in her leaky little Alienage shack. A beautiful, hand-crafted, red rug with golden borders lay underfoot, glowing with the warm light rumbling from a roaring fireplace. Exotic looking furniture, probably imported, stood in impeccable order, maximising the space in room and complementing the warm colour scheme; a surely deliberate consideration. The massive room was designed to elicit relaxation, calm, and the joy of luxurious indulgence, which Merrill would have been feeling if she had been in any other circumstance but this. Instead, she gazed at the room in shocked wonder, half-afraid of breaking something through her notorious clumsiness.
Hawke turned and walked behind Merrill as the elf stood dazed, and slid an arm around her waist, planting a tender kiss on the base of Merrill's sleek neck. Merrill snapped back to the immediate situation with an uncontrollable burst of adrenaline.
"Is this room too much?" Hawke spoke, the words seemingly sliding from her tongue as if lubricated.
"No!" Merrill whispered, half in awe, "It's wonderful!" she turned her body in Hawke's grip so she was facing the warrior, "Just like you".
Without hesitation she resumed kissing the warrior, her arms resting underneath Hawke's as Hawke brought her hands up to tenderly cup Merrill's face. Every sensation came in warm, delightful waves, pulsing through the elf's body. She began to crave Hawke's skin; the writhing flesh that remained guarded from touch felt like lyrium, the fuel to some greater power, the essential ingredient to a devastating spell.
In a gesture that surprised even herself, Merrill found herself drawing away from Hawke, entwining the finger of her right hand around Hawke's left. Moving almost entirely on an instinct she barely knew she possessed, she backed slowly towards Hawke's four-poster bed, leading the warrior to the mattress step by step. Every inch she neared closer further tightened the knot that wrenched near-painfully in her stomach. She barely knew what or how she was going to perform, or indeed what was expected of her. What she could feel, what she experienced, was an unrelenting drive which pierced through the deeper practicalities of the situation like a rogue's knife. She knew she wanted the bed, the other woman's body close to her own, to relinquish the timid control she held over herself. All the intention lay before her, the guiding actions were almost unimportant comparatively. She has taken a monumental leap existentially. Her prerogative, along with her values had a new focus, and she wasn't prepared to let them lose their hold so flippantly.
Merrill felt the back of her heels and thighs connect gently with the foot of the bed. Taking a glance over her shoulder, she proceeded to lay herself back slowly, locking Hawke with a sultry, fierce gaze. As her back connected with the bed, she felt she had landed on Earth, away from the concerns of the demon, the mirror, and all the Keeper's diatribe for the first time since she had left the Dalish. As Hawke lowered herself onto Merrill's expectant body, Merrill breathed a sigh of overwhelming relief and closed her eyes; not only at the touch of Hawke's lips at the nape of her neck, and the feel of Hawke's hands slinking around her body, but at the feeling of finding a place just for herself, without any other motive, for the first time. She wasn't the failed First or the Dalish Pariah, she was a desired companion – a lover. She closed her eyes and wished the exact feeling could go on forever.
Hawke sat up, moving her hands down Merrill's body and caught the elven mage's thoughtful expression,
"Are you alright?" she breathed, slightly rapidly.
Merrill grabbed onto the front of Hawke's robes and pulled her down to kiss her as an answer. It wasn't that she didn't have a reply for Hawke, she was just wary of saying anything that might cause the warrior to stop what she was doing.
Their limbs entwined as they rolled slightly to the side, hands tracing muscles and joints – charting the contours of each other's bodies. Merrill couldn't help but whimper every time Hawke's fingers traced a sensitive spot, or got too near the most wanting areas of her now demanding body. Merrill quickly got the feeling, however, that her lover was deliberately holding back from moving much further – almost as if she was frightened to. Every time she moved towards pushing it further or touching Merrill more intimately, she seemed to check herself and reel back. Merrill pulled out of kissing Hawke and brought her head up to whisper in the human's ear,
"It's alright, I'll need your help but…"
Realising, as ever, that words would most likely fail her, Merrill cut herself off for once and sat up slightly. Hawke watched in hesitant excitement as the elf slowly drew away her scarf and cloak, and made to undo the elven dress she always wore. Her hands began to fumble from excited trembling, but before she could let herself get angry over it, she felt Hawke's warm, solid yet slender hand envelop her own. She felt the shaking cease completely as Hawke gingerly helped her to remove the garment. As the cloth slid off her frame, Merrill felt as if she has shed a cocoon to reveal a creature that she barely knew has dwelled within her; a beautiful free-spirited entity. The vulnerability she had initially felt began to wash off her like a painted mask.
"I need your help too…" Hawke whispered, moving Merrill's hands to her own extravagant robes. Merrill's hands remained surprisingly steady as she helped the human undress, revealing inch by inch more of the body she has so long desired. She may not yet know exactly what she wanted from it – but now that thought almost seemed vaguely irrelevant.
The two women knelt facing each other, their bodies unclothed and so close they could raise the hairs on each other's arms. Hawke raised a hand on wonder, and ran a hand along Merrill's Dalish tattoos, softly tracing the patterns.
"You're beautiful"
Merrill wrapped her hands around Hawke's waist, feeling the transfer of beat between their bare skin. Hawke fell back onto the bed, and Merrill landed on Hawke's torso. Their mouths locked hungrily as their hands began to map every unknown detail of each other's bodies, throwing all hesitancy to the wind. Hawke flipped Merrill over onto her back deftly, and began to kiss Merrill's body. The elf gasped as the touches became more and more dispersed, interlocking into a web of ecstasy, their bodies now knotted together intricately.
"By the Dread Wolf!" she breathed "Who knew such power existed?"
(Break)
A contented silence lay over and around the two women, watching them as they lay in each other's arms; Hawke's arm resting under Merrill's waist comfortably as Merrill's arm fell over Hawke's neck, holding onto her head. It was an airy, breezy silence, a feeling of lightness and satisfaction. Merrill breathed in the feeling, letting it glide through and cleanse her senses, leaving them crisp and sharp. She didn't want it any other way; to miss a fraction of the sensations that offered themselves to her at this present moment would be tantamount to treason. The smell of Hawke's warm skin slightly coloured by the odour of excited sweat, the sound of her lover's now calming breaths, the sight of the bare, glowing skin which shifted and twitched against her arm. It was all the trivial details that Merrill did not wish to forsake in any way possible. It was the very ordinariness of it, the very notion that this very well could become commonplace that excited her the most. Being so at ease in such a circumstance was perhaps its greatest wonder. Conversely, this idea was also a great source of panic to Merrill. What if this was not something that was repeatable?
Merrill felt a great sense of resolve break through her calm; no more dithering, no repeat of earlier events in the night. She had to know what this meant and where this was going, or how could she enjoy the moment any longer? For this to be a one-time thing would be even more heart breaking than it never having happened in the first place. Merrill drew all her courage into a powerful ball, as if it was a thing of magic, and let it burst.
*"What happens now?" she blurted out, getting no immediate reaction she continued, "Are we…what did this mean?"
Hawke's free arm traced up and down Merrill's own, Merrill felt some comfort that this action had not immediately stopped at her question.
"Now we both decide what happens next" Hawke replied matter-of-factually.
Merrill turned to gauge Hawke's expression, but could not decipher anything particularly new. So this was it, this was normal now. There was a "we" factored into the equation, a pair of individuals seen as one thing. Merrill felt overwhelmed with things to say, but could not think of anything profound to explain or describe everything she wanted to,
"If you hadn't come to Sundermount that day…I can't imagine where I'd be now" she babbled slightly, not knowing entirely why she had said it. It felt almost as if another statement was hiding from sight, waiting underneath her more mundane ones to expose itself. Merrill felt it inside her as if she had swallowed a living creature alive, and it was fighting to free itself from her body.
After what seemed an infinite pause, she felt it break free, and find a new lease for life as it forced its way uncontrollably through her mouth,
"I love you!" she stated, boldly.
Merrill froze instantly; what had she done? Yes it was true, now she had said it she could not deny or avoid this fact, but why had she said it? She felt her familiar, nervous panic begin to set back in; she had to back track, it was too soon, too presumptuous, too overbearing to throw that at Hawke after one night! Everything ruined in three words!
"I probably shouldn't have said that should I? I always say the stupidest things…" she murmured dejectedly, feeling defeated and waiting for the backlash.
The silence took over again, as Hawke's hand continued to rub Merrill's arm. The wait was painful for the elf, yet some blind hope came from the absence of an instant rejection. Hawke was probably thinking of a kind way to put her down, Merrill thought, put her back in her place. She had been crazy to even think-
"I love you Merrill" Hawke replied, turning to face her and cutting off her paranoid thoughts, "Actually I was going to suggest you move in with me"
Merrill was so overcome with surprise and excitement, she sat up instantly, her whole body buzzing with the weight of the suggestion Hawke had just made to her. She stood at the base of the bed and looked at the room before her, Hawke's room….their room.
"Here? In Hightown?" Merrill turned back to Hawke to make sure she hadn't been making a joke, but saw the warrior lay watching her completely seriously, "The rich fancy part of the city with no rats in it? And you…" Merrill gazed at Hawke, the celebrated Hawke, and couldn't comprehend how or why the statement she was just about to say was ever even being considered, "with an elf?"
Hawke merely smiled in reply, looking at Merrill contentedly and waiting for her response.
"Ma vhenan…"Merrill spoke the words out loud, comfortable with saying the statement, still overcome with shock at how quickly the situation had evolved into something more marvellous than she could ever have dreamed of, "you really are crazy aren't you?". Merrill watched Hawke slide off the side of the bed and make to walk around to her. She knew what she was going to say to Hawke, there was no question of that. However, she knew, in the back of her mind that there was the unresolved issue of the Eluvian, sat back in her little alienage home. A flutter of worry passed over her face; she would never bring something so potentially dangerous into Hawke's home, but she could not give it up either. Scolding herself for almost ruining the moment, Merrill brushed the thought metaphorically under the carpet, and focussed on answering Hawke, who was now stood at her side. She turned to face the human,
"If you're not afraid then…" Hawke placed out a hand and drew Merrill closer as the elf spoke, "neither am I".* Merril smiled as she brought her hand up towards Hawke, finding Hawke's own and holding it as they kissed and embraced, holding on for dear life. She knew there would be things to be afraid of, and she was terrified of what she might be bringing Hawke into, and of the possibility she would never truly make it up to Hawke genuinely. But for the ephemeral present, there was just the two of them – the elf and the human, in their home.

Brandy Tasting

Zevran stretched languorously on the big four-poster bed. It was their fourth night at Castle Redcliffe. Four nights ago he had first made love to the Warden, to his beautiful Catalina. Since then, she had proven an eager pupil, only too ready to learn how to please him, to find out what her own body was capable of. It had turned out to be a hugely pleasurable experience. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so fascinated by a woman.
Cat was sitting on the rug near the fireplace, unwrapping the presents they had been given by the Arl and his family, the look on her face by turns pleased, disgusted and comically amused. Realizing he was watching her, she looked up and smiled, then walked over to him, a delicate glass bottle in her hands. "Do you want this? I'm not interested in getting drunk." He was about to decline when he realized what exactly she was offering him. "Catalina! That's Antivan brandy! It's not for getting drunk!"
She looked at him in confusion, as he eagerly studied the label. "35 years old! Brasca! This is a very fine gift!" His excited face puzzled her. "What's so special about it?" she inquired. Zevran sighed deeply. "What isn't? Ahhhh, my sweet, you have to taste it to believe it." He carefully opened the bottle with the help of his dagger, breathing in the aroma as he did so, then poured her a glass of the rich amber liquid. When he offered it to her, she took a quick sip and made a face. "Really, Zev, I don't like strong spirits." He groaned in exasperation. "No, no, my sweet, you're doing it all wrong!"
He took the glass from her hands and demonstrated. "You see, bella, first of all you look at it, swirl it a little, take in the colour, the play of the light, see what it reminds you of..." Her face was curious, as she tentatively took the glass in her hand, holding it up to the flame of the single candle burning at their bedside. "Your eyes," she breathed, her voice dreamy. "It's the exact colour of your eyes."
He chuckled appreciatively. "I can see you're learning already," he affirmed. "Now, my beautiful, you breathe in the scent, the aroma. Tell me, what does it smell like to you?" She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. "Embers, wood-smoke, ... and a hint of pine resin," she whispered. "It makes me think of the forest near Highever, on a bright spring morning."
Zevran smiled. "Very good. Now you may drink, but not a small sip. A good mouthful, and don't swallow it right away. Keep it in your mouth, take the time to really taste it." As she followed his instructions, he saw a look of surprise cross her face. "Let it swirl around your tongue, feel it, let it linger, ..." His voice made her shiver, the rich, sensuous quality of it, as he went on, his hand softly playing with her hair. "Now, you may swallow. Feel it run down your throat, like a hot caress, like a lover's touch." She swallowed, her eyes closed, her face a picture of bliss. "Well, cara? What does it taste like?" She turned her gaze on him, her eyes round with wonder. "It's hard to describe, Zev, so many flavors, so ... soft and mellow and ..." He cocked his head. "Vanilla, perhaps?" She shook her head. "Honey, rather. And a hint of hazelnuts. And at the end, just the faintest aroma of berries. Zev, this is amazing!" She heard him chuckle again. "See, my beautiful? I knew you'd come to appreciate it."
Her face took on a mischievous expression, as she pushed him back down into the pillows, moving over him with the glass in her hand. "You know, Zev, I wonder. This might taste even better if ..." She carefully dipped her finger in the amber liquid and painted a figure eight on his chest, then bowed her head and slowly, gently, traced it with her tongue. Zevran had been about to protest the waste, but the sensation hit him like a warm wave. He couldn't help moaning and she grinned up at him. "It tastes even better combined with the flavour of your skin," she breathed, proceeding to carefully wet his nipples. Zevran arched up into her mouth. The feeling of her tongue, softly lapping up every tiny drop of moisture, made him shiver all over. He watched, his skin tingling with pleasure, as she carefully drew patterns on his stomach, following all the time with her hot, wet mouth, working her way down to his crotch.
When she reached his pulsing erection, she looked up at him, a question in his eyes. "This might burn..." she said uncertainly, but he motioned for her to go on. With infinite care, she wet her fingers again in the glass, then moved them softly over his balls. He hissed with pleasure, as her tongue and lips followed suit, licking, softly kneading, driving him almost insane with their gentle touch. Then she worked her way slowly up his shaft, until she reached the tip. He could see her pause for breath, then take a deep sip from the glass. Without swallowing, she bent down and took him firmly in her mouth. He gasped for air. The sensation of her swirling tongue, combined with the burning heat of the brandy, was enough to very nearly make him come undone. As he heard her laugh softly, he quickly wrapped his hand in her hair, bringing her head up to his, kissing her hard. Her lips tasted of him, and of the brandy, a blend so perfect it took his breath away.
He rolled over with her, taking the glass from her hands and pressing her down into the sheets. "Your turn, I think," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. He began pouring a few drops onto her collarbone, softly nipping at it, eliciting a small cry of pleasure from her, but then he changed his mind. "Show me," he murmured. "Where do you want it to go?" Her eyes widened, but she obediently began to draw a pattern on her breasts, circling her nipples, dipping deep into the valley between them. Zevran watched, entranced, then let his tongue follow the trail. Cat shuddered violently, her back arching up, as they continued the game, all the way down across her stomach, all over her most sensitive spots.
He groaned at the pleasure, unable to decide which was best, the taste of the brandy on her, the sight of her wet fingers traveling over her body, caressing, pointing out to him where she wanted to be touched, the slow burning of the alcohol on his tongue, the silkiness of her skin. When he reached her soft, wet folds, it became almost too much to bear. Her taste, enhanced by the flavors of the brandy, her hips bucking up as she moaned and sighed, her small soft cries ... He growled again, reaching for the glass once more.
Cat couldn't believe how good it felt. The brandy left a tingling trail on her skin, momentarily soothed by his tongue, before that in turn ignited her even further. She wanted it to go on forever, never to end, and at the same time the yearning inside her grew stronger and stronger. She felt herself burn for him, ache for him. Maker, she wanted him so badly. When he finally let go of her hips and moved up between her legs, the pressure of him against her wet core made her moan out loud. "Zevran..." He knew, he didn't need to be told, how ready she was for him, and he sheathed himself inside her without hesitation. For a moment they kept completely still, and she revelled in the sensation of him filling her to the brim, his hot torso against her body, his lips on hers. Then he began to move, but she was too impatient, too heated for his soft, patient strokes, so she pushed hard against his shoulders, making them both roll over.
She heard him laugh with delight, as she straddled him, drawing him deeper inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest. Maker, but he felt so good, he smelled so good, he tasted so good. Her hips began to move of their own accord, circling, rolling, bucking against him. He groaned and took hold of her, forcing her roughly into an even more frenzied rhythm, urging her on, overcome by his own need, his own desire. Their bodies seemed to melt into each other where they were joined, and she no longer knew where hers ended and his began. Everything was heat, lust, intense, mind-blowing pleasure, as they ground against each other, their movements getting jerkier, as they slowly, inexorably lost control. Within moments of each other, they both cried out, their bodies caught in a violent spasm, pressing against each other so hard it almost hurt.
She felt him relax, pulling her closer to him, but she didn't let go of him, couldn't yet, knew that she needed him for a little longer, her body still crying out for more. His hands found her heat, and he softly touched her, caressed her, sending her over the edge again, making her tremble and moan in ecstasy, clinging hard to him, her lips silently forming his name.
When they finally pulled apart, he sighed a deep sated sigh and reached for the glass, taking a last sip and handing it over to her. She drained it, marveling once more at the rich, complex taste. "Who would have thought the Arl capable of such a ... thoughtful present?" she murmured, nestling into his arms, her head resting upon his chest, and she felt the soft rumble of his laugh, as he held her tight.

ThatOnesie

X_X She no like, I got rid of...

Ryalla

(Apparently I need to quit playing Dragon Age. /facepalm)

..."I'm going to stop talking now."
Shaila could almost feel his blush as he followed me into the tent, glancing once over his shoulder to see if we were being watched. They probably were, thought Shaila, but their companions were either polite or sneaky enough not to be seen. It was good thing too, because she figured he'd have bolted if he'd seen one of them, despite his endearingly awkward enthusiasm.
She slipped into the tent, and held the flap open, inviting him in once again with one hand, while she absently created a dim mage-light and warmed the blankets with the other. She almost shook her head as she realized once again that he was looking to her for experience. She knew that she'd given him the impression that she'd licked a few lamp-posts in winter...remembering that conversation, Shaila almost snorted laughter, but was afraid he'd take it wrong. Sure, she'd given the impression of some experience, but only because she was pretty sure he'd back off completely if he realized she was a virgin too. Him and his damned honour, she thought, though she loved him for it, it would probably have required that he keep her pure.
He entered through the open flap and hovered as she dropped the piece of canvas. Just as Shaila thought the tension was becoming unbearable, Alistair looked up from where he'd been watching his feet and met Shaila's eyes. The expression in his eyes was as open as she'd ever seen it, and the love she saw there made her breath hitch slightly. I hope that he can see that love reflected in my eyes, Shaila thought.
Alistair reached out his hand and traced a single finger down Shaila's cheek. "Maker's Breath," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Maker's Breath but you are beautiful." His tone sent shivers down Shaila's spine. He tucked a strand of errant hair behind her ear, then ran his hands down her arms, to take her hands in his. He squeezed them gently and drew her downward, until they were both kneeling, then leaned forward, her hands still in his and touched his lips to hers. Compared to the kiss that they'd just shared outside, this one was chaste. At least it started out that way. His lips moved slowly over hers for several moments, until Shaila'd had enough of the slow pace. She slipped her tongue out and brushed it against his lips. For a moment he froze, as if by one of her spells, and seemed not to draw breath, then as though a thin cord of control had snapped, his tongue delved deeply into her mouth. A steely strong arm wrapped around her waist and drew her close but stopped with the smallest space separating them, while he continued to search her mouth.
Shaila's thinking was a bit hazy, but she knew why Alistair had hesitated, and she remedied the situation quickly. She shifted forward, and brought her body flush with his, the softness of her breasts against the hardness of his chest, the press of his manhood against her belly. She was rewarded with a stifled groan against her mouth, and Alistair's hand burying itself in her hair.
She drew her lips away from his and traced a trail with her lips along the roughness of Alistair's cheek then down to his neck. He threw his head back to allow her access, a growl of pleasure vibrating under her lips. She ran her hands across his back, reveling in the feeling of his hard muscles, but frustrated by the loose shirt that was covering them. With a jerky motion, she pulled the shirt from the rope belt that held it closed, and ran her hands over the smooth skin of his back. She felt the growl vibrating once more, and then he took her lips again, his moving aggressively over hers. The scratch of his stubble only served to inflame her senses more.
His hands were mirroring hers, moving in patterns that set fire to her back, even though he had not yet ventured under his shirt. His fingers would move down to worry the hem of her shirt, and then he'd move them back up to draw those enticing patterns. After the third time he made the abortive movement to take off her shirt, Shaila broke the kiss, bit back a curse and shifted back from him slightly, the cooling air that moved between them an unwelcome sensation.
Alistair watched her, moving his hands to sides, his passion filled eyes now slightly clouded with uncertainty. Shaila's heart broke slightly at the sight as she thought how quick he was to expect rejection, even now. Not wanting to prolong the thread of doubt that she knew was running through his mind, she pulled both her shirt and her breastband up and over her head with a few spare motions. Before he had time for any reaction, other than passion darkening his eyes even more, she leaned towards him and stripped his shirt off of him as well. Then she cupped his rough cheek, running her thumb over his cheekbone. In a voice made unsteady with arousal, she said, "You never need doubt how I feel about you, love."
In answer, Alistair reached out a hand that trembled slightly to reverently cup her breast. Then with a rumble deep in his chest he pressed forward until she fell back onto her bedroll and he seized her lips once more, his tongue delving into her mouth. His arms on either side of her created pillars to a prison she never wanted to escape.
He slid his mouth off of hers, pressing kisses along her jawline to her ear, which he flicked with his tongue, making her gasp. He continued down to her throat, again mimicking her earlier actions, returning the pleasure that she'd given him. He continued pressing hot kisses against her neck, and then growing more daring, moved slightly down to the top of her chest, but again she could feel his hesitation. "It's alright," she whispered, somehow managing to find her voice as she buried her fingers in his silky hair. Gently she urged him down until his lips hovered above her breasts.
"Maker," he muttered, and bent his head to the firm mound and swirled his tongue around the nipple, making a very male sound of approval when she gasped aloud. He leaned his weight on one arm, freeing his other hand to run over her breast, his calloused fingers making her tremble. After laving attention on her breasts for several minutes, he shifted back up and pressed gentle kisses to her temple and cheek and then lips. "Ah Shaila, my love," he murmured against her ear, then drew back to look at her, shifting so that he was laying beside her, his hand still caressing her breast. She met his eyes, a tremor running though her when his rough thumb ran over her nipple. Holding his gaze, she hooked her thumbs in her leggings; lifting her hips and drawing them down until she kicked them off, leaving only her smallclothes on. She narrowed her eyes in an unspoken challenge.
Alistair caught the challenge, blushed and grinned his goofy grin. Still her Alistair, she thought and cupped his face. But there was a determined glint to his eye as he covered her mouth in a hot arousal filled kiss. He drew back and in a rapid move shucked both his pants and his smallclothes. His manhood sprang up, straining towards her in his need.
Shaila's courage failed her now, and she blushed to the roots of her hair, averting her eyes, a tremor of both arousal and panic running though her body. "Shaila?" His deep velvety voice caressed her, but she knew him well enough that she could hear that the thread of doubt was back. She felt a single finger under her chin, urging her to look up at him. She flicked her eyes up to his, then shifted them away slightly, the raw passion in his face almost to much for her.
"I.."she began, and her voice broke. She took a deep breath and started again. "Alistair," She felt his body tense, as if for a blow and she cursed herself for this sudden panic she felt. "Alistair, I may have exaggerated my experience with lamp-posts in winter. Umm... really exaggerated it..." she trailed off and forced herself to meet his eyes. He frowned for a moment, not making sense from what she was saying, then suddenly he burst into laughter.
"We've been doing just fine until now, my love. I'm sure we can figure it out together." He rained feather light kisses over her face, carefully only touching her with his upper body. At the light unpressuring touches, Shaila could feel her body relax, and soon the light touches were a tease. She grabbed the back of his head when he feathered a kiss over he lips again and she touched her tongue to his lips as she had done earlier that evening in a signal that she was ready to pick up where they had left off. Alistair responded as he had before and deepened the kiss, his hands once again roaming her body freely.
Shaila's hands too were exploring their new kingdom. She moved them from his hard chest to his muscular back in slow circles that edged ever downwards. When they reached his tight rear, and she ran her hands over it, his hips twitched forward, bumping his manhood into her and eliciting a gasp from both of them. The both continued stroking, touching and finding places with both finger and tongue that made the other gasp until Shaila could feel curiosity replacing her earlier panic.
She ran her hand along the outside of his thigh, then moved her fingers to the inside and began to draw them back up along it. For a second his hands stopped moving and she was pretty sure that his whole attention was focused on the location of her fingers. Then he continued as he had been, with a nonchalance that she was pretty sure he wasn't feeling. As her hand moved upwards, she brushed past his wiry curls then discovered his member. It was hot silky steel. She ran her fingers along it and he shuddered, his mouth suddenly frantic on hers. As suddenly as he'd deepened the kiss, he broke it off and looked down to where her hand was touching him. She kept her eyes on her face, watching the play of desire and passion. There was nothing awkward or goofy about his expression now.
"Take your sword in hand," he whispered, echoing the words he used when they started practicing swordplay. Those words were never going to mean the same thing again.
She moved her hand, encircling him, and was rewarded by a slight buck of his hips. "Yess," he hissed though his teeth, "Just like that... But easy," he said as she moved her hand up and down, fascinated by the way the skin moved over the core. She paused, afraid that she'd done something wrong. He must have read her mind because he continued, "Just a bit too good."
She moved her hand more slowly, then mustered the courage to force her eyes from his face and down to where her hand gripped him. The sight of her hand on him enflamed her even more. She felt like her whole body was on fire and when she felt his fingers edge into her smallclothes, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. He pulled the smallclothes off and gently touched her core. Her breathing quickened as his slightly clumsy, but heartfelt stroking and exploration stoked her fire within.
His hand left her, and she felt bereft, murmuring a protest when he slid out of her grip. "Shh," he said and she could feel him shifting positions, nudging her knees apart. He leaned forward to kiss her softly, but with barely restrained heat. She could feel the heaviness of his manhood pressed between them. "Are you ready, sweet?"
She nodded, but the response wasn't enough for him. He stroked her cheek with his hand, encouraging her to open her eyes. She did so, and met his gaze. "Are you sure?" His gaze was steady and warm, passion flickering at the edges of his gaze. Only the thin sheen of sweat and the slight trembling of his hands betrayed the strain he was under.
"I'm sure," she said, her tone hushed. "Are you?"
"Yes, oh Maker, yes I'm sure," he replied.
After exchanging several superheated kisses, Alistair reared up and took his member into his hand, probing her softness with it. His breath came faster, and his movements more jerky as he searched for her entrance, and it was quickly evident to Shaila that she was going to have to help. She soothed his hands away from himself, drawing them up to her face and kissing them, then she moved her hands back down, taking him into her own hand. His hips bucked violently and he growled once more, framing her face with his fingers, then running them down to cup her breasts.
She lined him up, the tip of him member hovering at her entrance. "Now," she managed. He slid home, and she felt a minor pain prickle, but it was quickly lost in the other sensations. Alistair held himself stiffly still for a long moment, stroking her face, and she wasn't sure whether it was for her benefit or his. The moment passed and he began to move slowly, with great restraint. Shaila arched to meet him as he moved faster, not recognizing the sounds that were coming from her throat. Alistair bent to muffle the noises that she seemed unable to control. His tongue followed the movements of his hips, plunging into her mouth. Their sweat-slickened bodies slid together, and Shaila lost her ability to concentrate. "Alistair?" Her voice was filled with passion, but tinged with her earlier panic.
"Hush," he said, "I've got you, you can let go," His voice was rough with arousal, and edged with heavy breathing, but she could hear the tenderness, and she trusted and let go. A wave of sensation crested over her, and she thought that she may have called out. She heard Alistair make a muffled sound through her haze of pleasure. He thrust strongly, then was rigidly still, and she felt him throbbing deeply within her. She reached for him, and accepted his weight as he collapsed onto her, spent.
For what seemed like ages afterwards, they lay like that, content just to be touching, until Shaila noticed a lightheadedness that had nothing to do with the wondrous experience of moments before. "Hey big man," she said, giving him a very gentle elbow to the gut. "You're going to crush me flat."
She felt the chuckle shaking him. "Can't have that," he said, shifting onto the bedroll. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him until they lay like a pair of spoons. "That would be no fun at all," his warm breath tickled her ear. He flipped the blanket over the two of them and wiggled until their whole bodies lay flush. He nipped her ear, and whispered, "My love."
She lay her hands over his where they were pressed against her and squeezed, and then let herself fall into the drowse that clawing at the edges of her senses. "My love," she whispered back as sleep claimed her.

Chapter 2

Both twins sighed in relief-Rontu wouldn't die tonight.... Now his eyes went to Isabel when the Prince looked to her-she flinched, biting her lower lip, trembling. Oh...he was going to kill her.
Not see-
Both twins grew confused, and they paled as well when it dawned on them-separated!? Rontu looked to her, swallowing when the Prince rose his chin-he met his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat.....Fire juggling? That wasn't hard, it just....
Death....or Slavery.....
He didn't move his head when the other's hand left him, and he watched him leave before he felt arms around him. Was he shaking, or was she? He couldn't tell, he just...sat there.
"Oh Rontu, ROntu Rontu-why-why did you-"
".....I'd rather be separated then have you killed...." He whispered into her hair, pulling her close, hugging her tightly, closing his eyes. They sat there, holding each other, only to flinch as they heard the sounds of metal on metal.
Isabel crawled to the window and peeked out through the curtains, staring at the guards before she moved to look at him.
".....What are we going to do? You can't-....you're a boy!"

"You think I don't know that?"
"Switch places with me then!"
"Idiot, you'll give yourself away, he'll know it's you and he'll kill you!"
"But...if you tell him you're a boy, he'll kill you off anyways..."
"We're stuck then....."

They sat back in silence-it bothered Issie, that he didn't blame her-it was....obviously her fault. She made to apologize, but he only shut her up and sat back, taking off his wig and running his hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling.
"....maybe it won't be for anything sexual, I mean, he just wants to learn how to use fire..."
"Rontu, then he would have you hired instead of enslaved....He could have just demanded you teach him."
"....What am I going to do? We can't run-"
"We could try to make a distraction-"

"Do you think an old ox can outrun the Prince himself?! He's got stallions, and an army at his side!"
"...I doubt he'd chase us...."...Maybe....we can leave, I mean, the trap door under the caravan, maybe some smoke"
"No, he would, Rontu....Rontu, I'm so sorry...."
She was sobbing hard now, and he pulled her into his arms, closing his eyes, shaking his head.
"...We can lie-I can say I have some disease or something.... he'll keep me alive to teach him how to use fire, and...I can keep my identity.....While I'm gone, I want you to take all we've got, start a new life, marry someone you like-cut your hair..."

He trailed off, kissing her cheeks quietly.
The entire night, neither of them slept. They laid side by side, holding hands, merely staring at each other, both fearful, both silent and pained...
Eventually they fell asleep, sometime in the night Rontu had placed his wig back on, andi n morning, they were hugging each other in their sleep, their tears dry now, but their hearts heavy....
-
Xavier was awake long before the others, getting his daily stretch in before everything else. He was grateful to be going home today, the climate of this area did not suit him at all. Afterwards he stripped out of the shirt he'd worn to bed and scrubbed himself down with a wet washcloth. Putting on clean clothes and his armor he stepped outside, only to be greeted by a peasant that had somehow slipped past his men.

"Please, sir! You can't take the lovely Issy!" The man babbled on about how he couldn't take Isabel and how it would break his heart and blah blah blah. Xavier glanced around, more concerned about how the man had managed to get by his guards. Where were they... shit. He saw a leg sticking out from under a nearby tent, smeared with red and bearing his insignia. He turned to the peasant that had been muttering at him only to raise an arm in defense as a dagger came slicing through the air. The prince growled as it jarred him, bouncing off his guard and tried returning for another try.

An insane smile lit up his face, "Thanks. I really needed an outlet." His knife appeared in his hand and soon the peasant was screaming from a tongue-less mouth and clutching at a face that lacked eyes, ears and a nose. Xavier walked over to the tent where he had spotted his warning and peered inside. Two dead guards. Peachy... He roused a few other from the tent aligned for them and they went to clean up the bodies. Chuckling darkly, he wiped the worst of the blood off with his 'kerchief and walked to the caravan.

"Any news, Jo?" He asked of the guard that was sneakily feeding the 'cute, adorable what a sweetie' bull.

"Uh, nothing to report your highness. They're still in there, Brig checked this morning."

"Wonderful, all of you wait here then. Let's hope they chose wisely." He walked up to the door of the caravan, knocking and taking care to swing out of the way so he didn't have a repeat of last night's performance. He still had a bruise from that.
-
It was the scream that awoke the two. Rontu sat up, staring around, only hte scream died short... Isabel was slow to respond, and as they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they heard the knocking.
It took a moment for them to realize, and the twins paled, Isbael stammering for a moment.
"J-just a minute!"

Oh God oh God-she fixed up Rontu's wig, making sure it was snapped in place, and after digging around for clothes, Rontu was in a black dress, modest and all, with the false sand bag breasts, etc etc. But just before he stepped out, he picked up a knife and turned to Issie. She blinked in surprise, then nodded. He went behind her and took up her hair, hesitating before he sliced her hair short in one sweep. He fixed it up as best as he could to make it look like his own hair, and he kissed her cheek.
"As soon as they're gone, dress like me and leave. Take the Caravan, but see if you cna trade it for another and such, just-change things... Make the villagers believe your me, then leave, go to a different town.... In a year, I want you at Portsville....I'll get out of this somehow. One year from now, if I'm not there...leave without me, alright? It means I'm dead, if I'm not there."

"....Don't talk like this, Rontu please..."
He smiled softly and kissed her brow, holding her close for a moment, then sighing and running a hand through his false hair.
"....It's alright, I can sneak out soon, I just need time-he isn't going to trust me soon, and if I can deter him from sex, I'll live longer.....So just, please, don't tell anyone, switch around cities, stay one week in each then leave, but make a cycle that you'll think I can figure out, incase I escape earlier."
He kissed her cheek as she hugged him tightly, and when she began to sob, he closed his eyes, shaking his head and wiping her eyes.
"Now now, you're a boy now, boys don't cry...."

"You did yesterday..." She whispered, and he siad nothing, wiping her eyes, then his own, stepping back and fixing his gown.
"How....um....how do I look?"
Isabel siad nothing, wiping at her eyes as Rontu turned to the door, unlatching it before pushing it open with a small grunt. His heart lurched in his throat as he stared at the Prince. He swallowed, regaining some composure as he stepped down the small steps, rubbing the back of his neck, lowering his gaze and standing before him, hands at his front now and clasped one over the other. He had a small bag with him, filled with things, and a leather bag that smelled of kerosene and such-his fire equipment.
Isabel didn't come out-she sat by the door as if too distraught to move, tucking her now short bangs behind her ears, lowering her gaze as well. They were both silent and depressed, as did the peasants around that watched curiously.
-
Xavier looked at Isabel's new hair curiously but said nothing about it, "Good, wise choice. If you're ready to go then, we're heading out." Lightly grasping Rontu's wrist he turn to the guards, "Right, all of you, let's move out." They all started walking towards the royal tents but Xavier leaned forward and slowed Jo, letting the others get farther ahead and the caravan holding Isabel farther behind, both out of earshot. "Jo, stay and watch the girl for a bit. Try to stay hidden."

He continued walking as the young guard slipped away into the crowd and disappeared. The prince looked down at the girl, to see if she'd comment before turning his head forward again, "What's in the bags? You aren't allowed any weapons anymore, you know."

As they reached the tents he looked around before heading to the tent his father was in, still leading Rontu gently.
-
"Ah-" Rontu looked over his shoulder as Isabel when his hand was taken-their eyes met, and his vision blurred. He blinked rather quickly, turning his head away as Isabel rubber her face and slipped into the caravan, shutting the door and locking it. He could hear the lock-and the mooing from the ox, that stared at him and grunted. He gave it a quick pat on the head as he walked by, and it calmed, licking his hand and mooing softly. He wiped the saliva on his own, though smiled softly to the old bull. Huh?

Following- His eyes met the Princes, and he chewed his inner cheek-did he know? The nerves ran through him and he looked away, gripping the bags tightly.
"N-no weapons... Just-clothes and s-sentimental things....in one....and my fire kit. We only have one we made-Isabel isn't as good as I am."
A subtle hint that killing him and going after her to learn wouldn't work. It was true though, she always had to wetten her clothes before working, and often times she was clumsy and dropped burning coals and such.

Rontu hesitated at the tent, though the Prince's grip was gentle, it felt like ice-he entered the tent slowly, nerves getting him as he caught sight of the King. He bit his lower lip, shaking in place for a moment before he bowed his head politely, eyes downcast as he clutched his bags.
-
Xavier bowed, keeping his eyes defiantly upwards though, "Good day, Your Majesty. How far are you on packing, sire?"

The King grunted, unamused, "Quit being a prat. Is this the girl then? Good, maybe having a set of tits around will keep you from the things you and that knight boy did. Get out."

Xavier's face had turned red, to which his mind cursed about. Two times within 24 hours? Fuck this place. He turned abruptly, yanking Rontu out the door. He was mumbling to himself as he stomped down towards his own tent, which was currently being taken down and stored away, "Stupid son of a bitch listening to stupid son of a bitching spies and their stupid spying when drunk."
-
It was....surprising to hear the king with that sort of language, but moreso at the mention of the Prince and a knight.....
THe prince......was gay?!
That stunned him, and when he was pulled he almost fell over for a moment, swallowing lightly. Oh....now he was sure he wouldn't die-but like hell the Prince was going to-with him and-

He looked up as they neared the Prince's tent, and he stood there, watching him before looking up at him and blinking.
"Says the guy sending a spy to watch my sister..." He muttered under his breath-hopefully the other wouldn't hear him. Damn hypocrite......Gah, he was scared now-he didn't want this, but....for his sister-if he could only warn her about that guard, maybe he could do something, to warn her? If he saw her, he could warn her.... But she was in the caravan, and that deflated his spirits.

'Best worry about myself.... If I tell him I'm a boy, he'll either kill me or-or take advantage....if I stay as a girl, I might be killed...'
He thought quietly to himself, panicking a bit and chewing his lower lip, staring at the ground and clutching his bags.... Lord have mercy on him.
-
The prince surveyed everyone at his tent, and once satisfied that they hadn't forgotten anything he handed Rontu over to one of the female servants. "Ona, please take the new slave and get something on her that she can ride in. I'll be back in a bit. .... Don't let her out of your sight, thanks." He turned and stalked off, deciding that he was going to hunt down whoever had sent the guy after him this morning and.. well.. vent.

Ona smiled at the girl, "Hi there dear, could you come this way please? The help's tent is this way." The servant girl gestured towards the left while holding out her hand. Of course she'd have to keep a hold on the slave, but there was no reason she couldn't at least by nice to her. "What's your name? I heard you were in the act yesterday, you're one of the twins right?"
-

Rontu looked up as he was left with a slave girl, and when she smiled, he smiled back, relaxing a bit-she seemed nice. He relaxed a bit, though he held his bags, glancing over his hsoulder, watching the prince for a moment before looking to her and nodding.
"Ah, yes....we're great at-at double acts....oh, um, I'm Rontu." He smiled softly, though his voice had wavered when he spoke at first, his thoughts hard, heavy. To leave Issie-they had never been separated before, it felt like....like he was losing his other half or something...
"Um....if-if I am to change-I'm rather shy and, um....yea....Oh, um-this bag," He held up the fire kit a bit, smiling to her, "It shouldn't be jostled or it'll set ablaze, is there a way to put it on a wagon or such? I think it will move too much on a horse and it might start a fire-it could even explode..."
-
Xavier had stopped a few of the guards hanging around, asking questions and simply finding all the information he could. When he'd finished with them, he decided that it wasn't some ridiculous peasant that had tried to kill him. Hired assassins were skilled, painfully annoying and stupid, but skilled. He decided to cover up with a cloak and visit the only inn in the town. With a few well placed remarks he learned that the man had shown up here... with friends. He was directed to the room at the discretion of 'don't destroy anything'. Within he found two armed men waiting for him. With a grin he jumped, landing on top of the first one with a crash. He received a gash on his calf but killed the guy. Turning sharply he brought twin daggers up to meet the mace plummeting towards his head. The prince gave a feral laugh and swung out his leg, tripping the man and laughing louder as the mace he'd been holding cracked his thick head as it fell.

"Too easy." He turned, hearing a gurgling gasp, and noticed the first one was still barely alive, he leaned down holding a dagger to the man's throat, "Oh good, glad you're awake. Tell me who sent you and I won't let you bleed out."

The assassin groaned, amazed he'd be spared, "Some noble lady in Rivette. Some duchess." He coughed, looking down in horror as blood trickled down his chin.

Xavier smirked, "Ah, so Cherlin then. Thankyou." In one swift motion he had cut off the assassin's head, "Well, technically I didn't let you bleed out. Much faster way to die."

He went back outside after leaving a few coins on the table to pay for the bloodstains and made his way back to the tents, a glance told him that the royals were almost finished packing. He walked by a few of the nobility's tents, quickly finding the one belonging to Cherlin. She was a notorious black widow and had be rejected by him earlier that year. He'd be doing to world a service... technically. Soon the lady was dead, a table leg sticking out of her abdomen. Xavier left the tents, smiling and wiping off the majority of the blood with the end of his cloak. He wandered back to his own spot, glad to see they were ready to go. He sat by his horse, waiting for Ona to get back with Rontu.

--

"That's such a pretty name, dear." She led Rontu into the tent and smiled again, "I'm sure I can think of something for you. Such a modest girl. Um... here, I can hold up this blanket if you wish?" She turned, holding out a pair of brown leggings and a simple tunic. "This should be fine til we get back to the castle." She held up the blanket as high as possible once she'd handed Rontu the clothes. "Oh, I'm sure I can take care of the bag. I'll be riding with the other girls in the cook's wagon."
-
Leggings.... He stared at them, then nodded at the mention of a blanket, sighing in relief at hte back of his mind.
"Ah, thank you..."
He changed quickly, making sure none could see-he fixed his breasts under the tunic, ripping a small edge of his skirt to bind his breasts to him so that they wouldn't, err, bounce, abnormally. When he gave a few testing hops, he nodded to himself, fixing hte tunic and his hair, stepping out from behind the blanket, rubbing the back of his neck. Well, he did look like a girl save for his hips-they were far too narrow, not curved like a woman's, mainly because he was underfed. But no one would know. Hopefully.
"Yes please, make sure it isn't near anything flammable, just in case....um....I've never ridden a horse before...." He finally admitted, the reason why he had taken his time in changing. He fidgeted, taking his regular bag and holding it close, swallowing lightly.
"....Is....is the prince.....cruel as he seems?"
-
"You're welcome, dear." Ona smiled and set down the blanket as Rontu came out. "Oh don't you look just cute, Don't worry, dear, I'll make sure it arrives at the castle without exploding." She grasped Rontu's hand lightly, with a small grin, "Well, come on. No time to learn like the present. You probably won't have to do much but hold on." She strolled out of the tent, waving to her fellow servants as they packed up their supplies.

"Oh, I don't think so. I've been his handmaid for years now and he's never been mean to me."

Xavier stood up once he spotted the two women, "Ready to go then?"
-
He flushed lightly at her comment and only smiled 'shyly' at her when she took his hand, only to blink nervously as she led him out of the tent.
"H-hold on? Oh, um....okay..."
He sighed in relief though-if he was kind to his maids, he was sure to be kind to him....oh, that was a relief!

He followed her as they came across the Prince....and a large stallion. He gulped, staring up at hte large beast, then nodding softly at Xavier.
"Y-yes, I'm-ah!" He gasped in surprise when the Prince grabbed him by the waist and plopped him onto the horse, blinking in surprise and holding his breath.
"ohhhmy....." HE could feel the horse breathing, and he squeezed his knees a bit, nervous, staring down at the ground, then at the horse's neck. When he felt warmth behind him, he glanced up, over his hsoulder, staring at hte Prince.

His back....was against the Prince's front. He flushed red and turned forward, swallowing and trying to inch forward a bit, until the pommel stopped him. He gripped it though, remembering the rules to hold on, and he ran a hand over his neck, only to quickly grip the pommel again, as if afraid the horse might move.
"I....I've never done this before...." He whispered, letting the prince know the reason why he was so....skittish. Well actually it was more of the fact that the possibly gay prince was behind him. BEHIND HIM.
He noticed peasants watching him, some smiling-some hadn't heard, most were thinking that 'Issie' was swept up by the Prince in a loving way...but he saw solemn faces that knew what was happening.
-
Ona smiled at the two, "Have a fun trip, dearies!" She turned, almost skipping. She was always.. joyful. Always.

Xavier hissed, "Stop squirming." He had a hold of the reins and kicked the horses into a trot, "We won't be too far ahead of the rest of the party, in case they need me." He glared at the peasants that had taken it upon themselves to stare and then turned his head forward, raising an eyebrow when he noticed the girl's ears were red. He shrugged it off until he heard the soft whisper of admission that she'd not ridden a horse before. Deciding they were far enough away from prying eyes he leaned forward and quietly spoke in Rontu's ear, "I'm not going to let you fall, don't worry."

He had placed Rontu's bag in one of the saddle bags before they'd started moving so it wouldn't fall out. He didn't even contemplate checking it out.
-
He went still at hte command, gapsing when the horse moved-his gripped the pommel, then the horse's mane, then, unsure if that hurt the horse, he let go and held the pommel, whining softly, squeezing his knees-ohfuckfuckfuck, he felt like he was going to fall....
Another gasp left his htroat-he felt warm breath against his ear, and he flinched from it, his heart thudding in his chest as he cringed a bit, chewing his lower lip then nodding softly.
"O-Okay...."
He kept wriggling forward, trying not to touch the other, but each jostle of the horse had him sliding back against hte other, and eventually he went still and tense, holding the pommel and biting his lower lip.
-
Xavier frowned as Rontu flinched away, but, well, the girl had just lost her sister. It was expected... right? He maneuvered the horse to a faster pace, more with his legs than the reins. He tried to be civil but the girl just wouldn't stop moving.

"Damnit, I said stop squirming." He growled, putting one arm around Rontu to hold her in place, "You don't listen very well."

His eyes scanned the road ahead, they'd ridden out of the sight of the party but not far enough that they'd pass the scouts. The prince watched the road, knowing only too well who and what he'd killed back at Dunsport.
-

When the horse went faster, the smallest of shrieks left him and he gripped the pommel, pressing back hard against the Prince and shutting his eyes-he moved ah and to the top of his head to hold his wig in place, though it was securely in so he didn't need to. When he felt an arm around him, his arms gripped it hard for support, and he whimpered, eyes shut-he was still now, scrunched up, clutching the Prince's arm for dear life, and pressed fully against him for fear and support-it wasn't sexual by the way he held himself, it was more of he was afraid and needed physical support.
"Makeitstopomigodshitshitshit..."

Women weren't meant to cuss, but he wasn't thinking about it as he was whimpering and closing his eyes, holding the PRince's arm, digging his nails in as well without realizing it.
-

His mouth twitched into a slight smile, "I'm not going to let you fall-" Oooowwww... nails... "Um, eh, I'm not going to let you fall, it's ok. Calm down, Rontu." He gripped the girl tighter, looking behind him, "I am sorry but we need to move at least at this pace or we'll get left... ow.. Ok, could you ease up on the nails, please?"
-

He didn't relax, not one bit, and only continued to mutter every foul word he knew, whispering them and sometimes shrieking them whenever the horse leapt over something or he was jostled. By the time they stepped for camp, he was shaking hard, his nails as deep as they could be in the Prince's arms. They had ridden half the day, and instead of taking a break for the after noon, everyone only changed horses. As the Prince tugged his nails aout and slid off the saddle, pulling Rontu down-the boy's legs gave out and he sort of sat/fell down, trembling slightly. When a white mount was brought for the Prince, the boy looked up slowly, quivering in place, his lower lip trembling.
"...D...don'tmakemepleaseohplease...." He whispered softly, swallowing as he looked to the large, white stallion, and stayed put on the ground-not to be defiant, but his legs? They were jelly now, he couldn't move them and he could hardly breathe.
-
Xavier grumbled, poking at the bloody scratches on his arm. He thanked the person that took his original horse away and pet the new white one on the nose, "This is Charger. He's an easier ride than Bucket." He paused, watching everyone either mount up again or get back in the carriages and wagons. He stopped one of the guards, talking to him quietly and asking that he tell his father he'd be a little late. He turned, holding a small bag of food, "Well scaredy cat, we're staying here for a bit so you can catch your breathe. You can barely stand."

As the other's rode off he tied his horses to the nearest tree and sat down by him, opening the bag. "I assume you're hungry, I have a couple apples and a bit of bread in here. Water too. If you want some?"
-
"I-I-I'm not sc-scared," He breathed out, though he knew it was a lie-and he knew the other knew. He dropped his head, rubbing at his eyes-they were dry now, because the wind had whipped every tear he held from his eyes. His stomach grumbled as the other offered him food, and he tried to stand for a moment, his legs giving out. He sighed softly when the other sat beside him, and took an apple, thanking him politely before biting into it, holding it in both hands.
He finished the apple and ate around the seeds, throwing the stem and the bottom piece after carefully plucking the fruit from it-he wasn't one to waste. He swallowed and took up the canteen of water, giving a small sip just to wetten his lips, thanking him and closing it.


"......Will I ever see her again?"

He spoke after a long while, staring at the ground-he felt so empty, without her beside him, and he stared back at the long road-he didn't recognize anything around, Issie was always better with direction.... Oh, Issie......
A few hours later, after he sat quietly for a while, his trembling ceased-though he eyed the horse a bit, and slowly, with the help of a nearby boulder, he stood up. He took out an apple from the  bag, and walked over to the large horse, stroking it's nose gently before offering it an apple, whispering to it and smiling as it took the apple. He watched it eat before he sat back down besides the Prince, rubbing his own arms uneasily as the light started to fade and the area went dark.
"I....I don't want to hold us back-we...we can keep going, um, I won't, um, grip you again....sorry.....also....I don't trust this forest-bad rumors are always around and I don't want to be here at night. You can scoff at my superstition, but we lose many a folk here in the dark by unnatural means..."
-
"Ok, sure you weren't." Xavier took out a piece of the bread, chewing on it slowly while scanning the forest at all times. His hand wandered to his arm again once he'd eaten, gently rubbing it to get the aches out. Once he figured he had gotten it as good as it'd get he leaned down to check on the wound he'd received from his gallivanting earlier. It was a bit red around the edges so he dug a whiskey bottle out of the bag and poured a bit on the gash. "Fuuuuck..." He popped the top back on and hissed, before blowing on the leg to dry it. The  Prince then wrapped it in what was supposed to be a cloth napkin.

He flinched at Rontu's question, then hardened his face, "What would be the point of the punishment if I said you could?"

He leaned back for a rest, assured that the large party's passing would've scared off all threats for the moment. Besides, he was a light sleeper, it would be hard to sneak up on the pair, or.. trio, counting the horse. He opened his eyes again when the slave moved, smiling when he saw the girl get near the horse. Xavier sat up when she started walking back, raising an eyebrow, "Now, who said you could feed me horse?" 2 parts teasing, 1 part dominance.

"I'm glad to know I can still scoff, this forest is like every other one. I spent a night in it before I arrived at your village." He picked up the girl and sat her back on the horse, "And for the love of all things holy, do NOT squirm this time!"

-
 That depressed him, and he lowered his gaze, sighing softly, though why complain? He had asked to be punished in her place-he just didn't think this would happen. He wondered how she was now-where she was, if that guy was following her, and what she was thinking...
He looked up sharply at the accusing question, and he flinched lightly.

"I-I just htought- I mean, um-" He trailed off when the other changed the subject-it took him a moment to realize the other had been teasing him. His face heated up and he shifted a bit in annoyance, chewing his inner cheek and sighing softly, only to squeak in surprise as he was lifted onto the horse. He grabbed the pommel as the other slid onto the horse. He chewed his lower lip and nodded quietly-he'd try not to, yup, he'll just sit here still and-
oh darn, he was squirming and they hadn't even moved. He went still, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes. When the horse moved forward, had to admit it wasn't as....disastrous as 'Bucket' had been-or was it because it was his second-

The horse went a bit faster, and despite himself he wriggled, gripping the sides of the horse iwth his knees, a small whimper leaving his throat, though he was trying to be quiet-as if he still doubted the forest was safe. He kept his eyes open, fearfully staring out into the trees, and as the horse stumbled over a rock for a moment he let out a gasp and tucked his face into the horse's neck, hugging it about the neck, though moving back against the other due to his position.
Each time the horse moved, he wriggled despite himself, and wriggled more when he forced himself to sit up-the pommel was digging into his stomach. He held onto it, closing his eyes, whispering small prayers as he trembled and squirmed-oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck, he was scared-so scared-horse riding, God forbid he do it again! And in the dark in a supposedly haunted forest-

Hoot.

"AHHH!" He screamed as an owl merely hooted, and he let go of the pommel. He felt himself falling sideways, and twisting a bit he managed to grab Xavier around the neck with his arms, steadying himself like the odd human pretzel he was (His legs are facing forward but he's turned all the way towards Xavier, creepy lol)
He burrowed his face into his chest for a moment, his heart racing a bit. He gingerly forced himself to turn back around, eyes still closed tihgtly as he gripped the pommel, trembling and squirming again.
"I-I-Idon'twannadothiseveragainohfuckfuckfuck...."
-
Xavier was glaring at the sky, cursing whatever higher power was up there. He was ignoring the squirming at first, and doing so successfully, managing to thread his mind over to the fire tricks he'd learn. He was doing so good! ... Til the horse stumbled and the girl in front of him decided to hug Charger's neck, SHIT. Come ON Xavier, this girl is scared, quit thinking- SHE IS GRINDING AGAINST MY FUCKING CROTCH.
"Rontu, please... please stop doing that-" He jolted when she screamed, grabbing her tunic as she grabbed his neck. How... He looked at the contorted body. Flexible much? ... Oh that didn't help the damn subconscious any. His breathe hitched when Rontu clung but... Xavier took a deep breathe and merely patter her back, "It's ok. That was just an owl."

He kicked the horse back into motion again, making sure to keep a firm grasp on the acrobat, "Dig your nails into the saddle horn if you have to. I won't let you go."
-
Rontu didn't respond, only smal whimpers leaving his throat as he nodded slowly-just...just an owl.... He breathed out slowly, only to suck in a breath as the other moved the horse-he made to dig his nails int othe other's arm again, only to lower them into the saddle horn, clutching it as he felt the arm around him. It made him feel safer, just a bit, and despite the jostling and such, he didn't squirm as much now, nodding quietly to the other, sniffling. The horse was moving slowly now, and the wind didn't hide his tears-Gods, look at him....what balls did he have? He could flip in the air, leap over fire via a burnt rope-and yet scared of riding a beast of burden-that was going slow?!
"M-m-may I-I sh-should just w-walk-"

 He spoke out quickly, his voice rising in pitch each time the horse walked over the uneven ground, not stumbling but each change in it's weight, shifting from grooves in the ground and such-he could feel it all and he pressed back against the Prince, closign his eyes, wriggling a bit. Gosh, the Prince's armor was uncomfortable and hard at the waist....He could practically feel it against his rear, pressing.(XD) He shifted a bit, closing his eyes when the horse randomly snorted, bringing him back to his thoughts on the fact he was on the horse. He tensed up and swallowed, hiccuping lightly, ltitle, pained sounds leaving him occasionally as the horse went it's own pace, sometimes a little fast from Prince Xavier being ever so impatient, and hten sometimes slow when Prince Xavier grew annoyed at Rontu's wriggling and shrieks.

Eventually, they reached Dunsport, and the poor boy was so exhausted from his trauma, he slumped in his seat, resting his forehead against the horse's neck, eyes closed as the horse clip clopped over cobble stone, heading towards the large palace. Had he been wide awake-the cobblestone would have given him a fright while on the horse. He did shift in his seat, eyes closed now because he was tired, leaning back against Xavier, his head turned to the side as he sagged.... He fell asleep in the saddle, back against the Prince's front, his head to the side and against that broad chest.
"Mnn....Issie, move over...." He mumbled in his sleep, giving a soft frown before relaxing...
-
Xavier had never had a more stressful ride. This would never ever ever ever ever EVER happen again. He'd sit this girl on a goddamn pony and start teaching her to ride on her bloody own. He had to veer from the path a few times after spotting movement that may or may not have been friendly, he wasn't likely to check it out. Once they reached the capital he felt quite a bit better. Rontu had stopped moving and was actually quite cute when she was asleep.

"Though how you managed to fall asleep is beyond me." He muttered to himself, he steered the horse around the traffic dotting the streets. He waved to a few known merchants and gave a glare to a known pickpocket. The two arrived at the castle within the hour, and the prince greeted the guards and he trotted Charger over the bridge. He stopp the horse once they were inside the stables, slipping off and taking Rontu with him, carrying the girl. "Aren't you supposed to be a slave?" He grumbled at the acrobat. He nodded to the quatermaster, and listened to the woman as she told him his father had gone out for the weekend. He carried Rontu upstairs, stopping at Ona's room.

After a knock, she opened the door, "Shh, she's asleep. Um... where do I put her?"

Ona laughed quietly, "First slave and you are completely out of your element."

His blushed, not even trying to hide it from the woman, "That.. that's not true!"

"Uh huh, sure honey. Hmm, there isn't any room in the servants quarters. I think Betty is leaving for Barne's estate in a month or so though. She could have her bed when she goes."

Xavier blinked, "But what do I do with her now?"

Ona smirked, totally reminiscent of her 'boss', "Well, you do have that duvet in the corner of your room."

"What."

"Your room is huge, and she's your responsibility now!"

".... But"

"No buts! Go!"

Xavier sighed and turned from the lady, walking down the hall a bit to his room, whispering to the sleeping girl, or mainly to himself, "I swear, Rontu, I sometimes wonder who's actually in charge here." He opened the door with one hand after a bit of fumbling and walked in, shutting the door carefully with his foot. The prince went across the room and gently put Rontu on the duvet. He put her bag beside her, then went to his own bed, shucking off his shirt before falling into bed, face down in the pillow.

"I'm riding in the fucking carriage next time." He mumbled through the fabric.
-
He groaned softly when he felt lifted a bit, wriggling a bit in the other's arms before settling, resting his head against hteo ther's shoulder.
He twitched when he was laid down, and instantly snuggled into the soft sheets. He didn't remember these in the caravan-so soft, so smooth... Did Issie buy some new fabric? They did make a lot of money at the festival...
He mumbled her name in his sleep, pulling up the blanket and burrowing into his pillow, fast asleep.
-morning-
Oh God, he was sore. His back, his arms-he groaned and rolled onto his back, frowning a bit as he awoke. He was never sore-what-
He stared at plush sheets, pillows-he sat up suddenly in shock, a hand moving to his sore back as he looked around, disoriented.
What?! Where-how.... His legs were so sore as he slipped out of the bed, stumbling a bit as he moved to the window and looked out.
A.....a castle?! No....Palace....
Slowly it dawned to him, and he looked about, noticing a large bed, and a figure on it. He swallowed lightly, fixing his hair a bit and chewing his lower lip... Well, the soft bed explained why he was so sore-he was used to sleeping on fabric on hard wood.
It was...relief that they hadn't slept in the same bed, and he realized he was still in the tunic and pants. He picked up his bag from the ground, and slipped into the side room, finding it to be a bathroom. (pretend they have indoor plumbing lol)
He locked the door and went to the bathroom, then changed into a dark gray dress, one of Issie's, though edited to be modest (to hide the straps), and after fixing his wig and brushing it, he stared at himself in the mirror, digging into his bag. He pulled out a small, blue marble, and smiled softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isabel held up the small, red marble as she sat infront of the caravan on the seat there, holding the reins for the ox. She tucked it away into her pocket after a small sigh, and ran a hand through her short hair. Her chest was bound flat(that had taken hours) and it was hurting to breathe. Rontu's clothing was usually baggy, so they hid her hips as she sat there, holding the reins for the ox. People were telling 'him' by, and some of them even giving 'him' gifts. He smiled-he hadn't spoken to any of them, they figured he was depressed that Isabel was gone. He smiled at them all before he snapped the reins gently, and old Chester started forward, grunting a bit.
"Come back soon, Rontu!" Some called out, and Isabel closed her eyes, forcing tears back, and winning. She rode out of town at a rather slow pace, opposite of where the royals had gone-she wouldn't go to Dunsport, that was like a plague to her.
-
Xavier had opened one eye the moment his ears picked up on movement in his room. His body immediately went tense, but he didn't move. He wasn't used to hearing someone in here but... wait... that... Why did the person go into his bathroom? He sat up once Rontu had left, scratching his head.

"Teh.. fuck..." Looking around he calmed and yesterday came back to him, "Oh... Right.. Damnit Ona." He stood, wandering over to a set of drawers and grabbed a clean red shirt and breeches, etc, out of them. The prince sat on the bed and shucked off his pants from yesterday, replacing them with the breeches and pulled the shirt on, buttoning it quickly.

Almost habitually he picked up his dirty clothes and tossed them in a nearby box that served as a hamper. Ona had him trained whether he admitted it or not. He went and knocked on the door to the bathroom, "I wasn't aware slaves could use the prince's bathroom... Meh, what do ya want to eat for breakfast?"
-
"Ah-!" The knocking startled him, and with a dull clink the marble fell into the sink hole-he stuck his hand in and scrabbled until he felt it, only now his hand was stuck. He tugged on his wrist, refusing to let go of the marble, and he looked to the door, biting his lower lip.

"I-I'm sorry-I-I dind'tk now where to go and um-ohum....yesplease..." He spoke with a few grunts, tugging on his wrist until-snap- He yelped and fell back, marble in hand, a part of the sink around his wrist. He fell backwards against the shower, ripping the curtain and snapping the bar holding it as it all crashed around him and he fell into the tub. He cursed a few times, kicking against the curtain until he was able to sit up, rubbing his bruised wrist. He crawled out of the tub, groaning-he banged almost everything in that fall, and it hurt a bit. He rubbed his neck, feeling something cold, and hard-he looked at his wrist with the silver buckle of the sink, and bit his lower lip, slipping the marble into his pocket and trying to tug off the ceramic and metal loop.

It came off after a moment, and he shoved it back into the sink space, making sure it looked alright before he grabbed the soap and tunred on the water, washing his hands so that leftover suds would hide the cracks. Now he turned to the shower curtain, chewing his lower lip as he fixed the bar, thankfully it was a two piece, though to hide the large cut in the curtains, he merely pushed htem all to one corner, and slowly surveyed the bathroom...

Of course he knew the Prince would find out later, but he hoped by then he would be out and gone. Rontu rubbed his wrist as he unlocked the door quietly, holding his bag under his arm and shutting the door quickly behind him, chewing his inner cheek.
"Um....I fell." He merely stated in case the Prince asked, and settled his bag on the duvet, sitting there quietly, timidly, fingering the marble held in his hands.
He was nervous now, unsure of what he was to be doing-and what hte Prince was going to do to him.
-

Xavier stood back from the door and went out of the room, he bumped into a nearby servant rather quickly. Once he asked the boy if he could bring up some food he went back into the room, only to be greeted by a loud crash.

"What... the fuck..." He went to the door, planning on knocking and asking what was going on, only to be greeted by the door opening. Luckily this time, he backed out of the way. "I'm going to lose my nose one of these days..."

He raised an eyebrow, "You... fell? .... Ok." Xavier peered inside the bathroom, nothing SEEMED amiss, "I'll be a minute. The food will be here soon enough."

Inside the bathroom he went over to the sink to brush his teeth. Once finished he looked down... to see that the rinse water had washed away the suds and... were those cracks? He poked them and his finger brushed the sink cover, causing it to move. With wide eyes he nudged it again, and as it moved he realized it had broke. "I'm also going to be saying 'what the fuck' around this girl a lot." So, he decided to check the rest of the bathroom, for that loud of a crash couldn't have just been the sink right..? And she said she fell... After some inspection he found all the things she had broken, and with each discovery he grew more angry.

He finished what he came in the bathroom to do originally, stewing, and stormed out of the bathroom. She was a slave now, he didn't HAVE to be diplomatic. The prince reached down and picked the girl up by the front of her shirt, "What the hell did you do in there?"

Interrupted by a knock on the door, he dropped the girl and answered. Grabbing the tray away from the servant, he slammed the door behind him. Xavier dropped the food down on a nearby table and sat down heavily on the chair, "Get your ass over here and eat."
-
When the other slid into the bathroom, Rontu felt an immense dread-he knew the other was bound to find out, but this soon?! Gaah! But-it wasn't-he hadn't meant....
He sat in stilled silence, his heart thumping loudly in his ears, and he looked up when the other came out in a fury. He didn't even have time to get up when the other grabbed te front of his dress and lifted him-he gasped and flinched, stammering. "I-I just-it-it was an accident!" He yelped when he was dropped on the floor, and felt the sandbag slip. He put a hand to his neck and quickly turned from the Prince so that he wouldn't see her stuff her boob back in place and quickly fondle to adjust-from behind it looked like she was merely smoothing out the fabric in a 'modest' way. He stood up when he was sure they were in place and okay, and he slowly walked over, sitting down on the far side of hte table, hands in his lap.

Oh yes, he was very afraid, but when he saw all the food, he literally gaped.
"A....all of this?" His eyes were wide with surprise-he hadn't even seen this much food at the bakery in the village! He almost felt bad when he picked up an apple, staring at it-so large... He was even more amazed by the taste-it had to be the first picking or something, the finest of the fine. He ate the apple slowly, savoring it, holding it with both hands as if it was too precious. He settled the core on the plate, staring down at it as he licked the juices from his lips, and picked up a glass of red liquid-blood? No... He sniffed it, and frowned, giving it the smallest of sips...... It was rather sweet, and so he took a small gulp, closing his eyes at the taste.
"Ick....what is this? It's so...sweet?" Wine, but he knew nothing about it, setting the cup down, staring at all the food.... Oh he definitely would no go hungry here.
He took up another apple, and as he ate, his eyes watered, and soon tears dribbled down his cheeks, and he had to put the apple down, only haf eaten as he wiped at his face, giving a small sip.
Issie.....
It was hard, eating such....such fine thigns, knowing all she had to eat was probably some dry bread they had in the caravan with a few small bits of dried fruit-she sucked at fishing, though she had the pole, he was the one that managed to get her meats-he was a vegetarian, though Isabel scoffed at him.
He eventually calmed, silent now, eyes red as he finished the glass of red juice and stared around at all the food, wiping at his eyes again, sniffling as he finished the half eaten apple.
....Damn nobles and their finery.
He picked up a carrot and nibbled on the end, though halfway, he was already feeling full. Not having eaten in a long while, his stomach was tiny, and though it seemed he was eating like a woman would (little htis, little that) there was onyl so much he could eat. He set the carrot down on his plate, and pitcked up the red juice pitcher, pouring himself a glass. Hnn, now that he was over the sweetness, it wasn't that bad. He spilled some, blinked and stared, then set the pitcher aside. It took him a moment to pikc up the glass-why did he have two?-and he down it, giving a small hiccup after and licking his lips, fumblign for the pitcher again.
"Th...this schtuff....isn't half bad..."
-
"Wine, it's made from aged fruit or.. well, it's a long process, It's alcohol. Like the mead served at that inn in your town." Xavier helped himself to a piece of bread with jam and some bacon, chuckling as he watched the girl stare at the food. Did the peasants really not eat stuff like this? He felt that this food was regular and had even seen the lower class eating similiar fae around Dunsport. He paused at that thought, Was life really that rough out there? Or were the acrobats that poor? He shrugged off the thought, probably best to leave the economics to his father for now.

He couldn't understand why it was hard to stay mad at Rontu. The SLAVE, he had to keep remind himself of that, had busted up his bathroom. Why didn't he even try to dole out punishment? He heard Rontu's last comment, "Yeah, it is good. So how did that 'accident' happen?"
-
Rontu hiccuped softly, blinking a few times as he reached out, clawing at the air near the pitcher-he managed to grab it and lift it, pouring himself another glass, somewhat messily, and setting the pitcher donw. He picked up the cup iwth both hands after a while, drinking quietly for a moment until he heard the question.
"I....almost lost my marble..." He spoke quietly, giving a sniff and closing his eyes, finishing the rest of the wine before hiccuping and closing his eyes-the room seemed to be spinning.
"Urrgh.....when we....hic....were little, Issie and I, we...found two marbles in a ditch. It...took al ong time to get them-they were so pretty.... No one in the village had anything like them..." He set the cup down-it fell to it's side but he didn't notice- as he fumbled into his pocket, and pulled out the small, blue marble, holding it up to the light, squinting at it.
"It's...precious to me....Issie, Issie has the blue one, and we promised that, like us, they wouldn't be separated from us....heh, Blue.....is Issie's favorite color, and red-red is mine...so, I think about her, and she thinks about me, when we see these...marbles..." His speech was slurring and he frowned, moving a hand to his head. He suddenly stood up, jarring the table a bit, and he stared down a bit before he sat back down, disoriented.
"I....feel weird...."
-
Xavier listened to the girl, frowning slightly, "Oh, I... see. Well, I'm glad you retrieved it then. Just, be careful next time, alright? It's going to be weird having to explain why my bathroom is torn to shreds." He nibbled for a moment on an apple before jumping back as the table jerked beneath his elbow.

"What?" He looked back at Rontu, "Wait... oh shit, you've never had alcohol before, have you?" He grabbed the pitcher and Rontu's cup away, "Um, wine may make you drunk... I shouldn't have let you have any. I didn't think of your tolerance."
-

"Kay....I will..." He nodded woftly, rubbing at his face then looking up.
Alcohol?
"E.....eh?" He frowned, then looked down as the other took away the pitcher and cup-he pouted, then sat back, rubbing his face a bit and huffing. Gosh, he felt so dizzy....and hot...ick...

He rubbed at his neck for a moment, closing his eyes before dropping his head in his arms.
"Ghhh.....this sucks...being here and all..." He mumbled into his arms, hiccuping a bit.
"I know I g....gota...hic....but still... I mean, snooty royals and...and so much food-assholes, they're all assholes..." He was obviously drunk, and he didn't even seem to notixe Xavier, resting his head on his arms, eyes closed.

"Think they're...hic...better than us.... heh, I'd like to see a...a royal plow a whole field without...hic...breakin' a sweat....or even doing a somersault."
-
Xavier chuckled at the pout, "No more wine for you, you'll be thanking me when you get a hangover later..." He picked up the left over food and stacked it back on the tray, taking it out of the room and setting it by the door for some servant to pick up. "You are going to be absolutely useless the rest of the day. Maybe coffee... That might just make you hyper if you've never had any though. Shit."

He walked back to the table and leaned down over Rontu to hear the girl's mumbling, ".... Feh... I should have you whipped for saying stuff like that." He sighed, listening some more, "I won't because you ARE drunk but seriously, stop."
-
"Urrgh-whaa?" He grunted quietly-what was ah ang...what? Oh whatever....
"Coff....ee?" Oh, he definitely hadn't heard of it, he rose his head to give him an annoyed look, and snorted, sitting up slowly, crossing his arms.
"....'feh' my ass. You whip me and...hic... I won't teach you shit....you royals and your whole oh I'll get what I want by smacking processed cow ass at peasants....well bullshit-you even think about it and I won't teach you. Good luck finding someone who knows as much as I do about fire...hic." His words slurred and he closed his eyes, rubbing his face as the other leaned over him. he looked up at him, then slowly stood up, his face inches from the other. He stared at him, then hiccuped and sat back down, his legs slightly wobbly. He hiccuped and rubbed his face again, laying his head down to the side on his arms and closing his eyes.
-
"Processed cow ass..." He looked at Rontu, bewildered but as she continued his expression grew hard.

Xavier's lips fell back in a snarl as he stared at the defiant girl, how bloody dare she. He had been trying to be nice, really trying. And she just... He grabbed the girl back her hair in the back and yanked her head up, "Somehow, you little bitch, you keep forgetting that I can kill you and I'm not fucking scared to." He made to lift her up out of the seat by her hair... but when he tried all that happened was a ripping sound.

His face changed from one of anger to one of utter bewilderment...  then back to anger, "Is this why your sister had her hair cut? Why the fuck lie about this?" He grabbed Rontu by the arm and jerked her up, "Answer now."
-
"Yea, cow ass-leather, you know..." He was slurring his words, giving a shrug until the other grabbed his hair-well, hsi wig, but he still felt the tug of his real hair. He cried out in surprise at the stinging around his scalp, looking up as he was forced, blinking a bit, then grinning-oh yes, he was still drunk as fuck.
"Kill me and you learn nothing."

The other yanked again and he felt the snaps ripping-he gasped and made to grab at it, only the wig came off, and the spare clasps fell from his head, releasing his hsort hair. He blinked slowly-it seemed to hit him real slow in this state-and he touched his hair, his lips parting in surprise.
The world spun when he was yanked up by the arm, and he grunted lightly, shaking his head.

"H-hnn...short hair-easier to....to flip an'....an work with fire-we cut it short so we don't burn...an, well, men like long hair-so....hic...we both wear wigs."
He was surprised at himself at how easily the lie formed, and he hiccuped again, weakly trying to pull back for a moment, slipping and falling down-and accidently pulling the other down with him.

He blinked and groaned, the back of his head was throbbing slowly from where it hit the floor, and when he opened his eyes the Prince was atop of him. A slow blush formed on his face, and he tried to push him off, squirming under him.
"H....heavy...."
-
"Funny, you seem to think I didn't see the other fire wielders there. I don't have to threaten you, your sister is being followed remember." He threw down the wig in his hand, "That lie would make more sense if you weren't flipping and working with fire with long hair anyway. And you keep looking to the left, good job, drunk. Tell me the tru- AH!" He fell with a thud, wincing as the hilt of his knife dug into his side. He looked down, eyes widening at Rontu's blush then turning in to a glare.

 "Or I could find... other ways to make you stop talking to me like I'm NOT the prince." He said, voice low, bringing his face an inch from Rontu's, "You really should stop being a little bitch and tell me the truth. I don't need to kill you to get what I want." He lifted the majority of his weight off of the acrobat by placing his arms on both sides of her and balancing on those. He kept his body pressed to her's though, grinning maliciously.
-
"Ughh,myheadisthrobbing...." Rontu mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes and yawning a bit, only to grunt and look up at him when he let off some. He blinked for a moment, and squinted.

He stared up at him silently for a moment, then chuckled. "They learned from me...and you saw, they kept messing up, and one of them even set their pants on fire."
As he neared his face, Rontu blinked suddenly, frowning up at him, honest confusion in his face before his eyes widened and he gasped.

"....You're the Prince?!"
Oh boy, he was really drunk.
-
Xavier groaned in exasperation and put all his weight on one arm, reaching into one of the many hidden pockets in his breeches. He pulled out a smelling salt pellet (These are kept with him in case he needs to wake up an unconscious opponent to ream him for information.) and held it up to the girl's nose. When she'd inhaled enough to cut through the haze of drunkenness he returned the item to it's original place.

"Now then, you cocky little shit, I don't have to find them. And you WILL listen to me and stop saying those disrespectful things." Years of noble training laced every word with a commanding tone and he rested his arm back on the floor.
-

Wha?
He sniffed, made a face, but continued to inhale it, blinking slowly-ohhh, his head...
As his mind cleared, realization hit him and he gasped, stuttering for a moment.
"I-I-Ihadn'tmeant-itwasanaccident,Ijust...."

Oh, well he did mean his words-but he hadn't meant to say them out loud! He flushed with shame and squirmed under him, chewing his lower lip as he paled, averting his gaze as the Prince snapped at him.
"I....I apologize, m-my lord...I-I spoke without thinking..." He finally mumbled, shocked at himself-sure, he detested nobles-but he never let them know that! Ah, curse that-that delicious tasting stuff...what was it, wine? Yes....evil shit that was.

Rontu meekly stared up at him, and swallowed lightly, shivering under him for a moment.
"I.....I like my hair short-wh...what importance is-is it if I-I wear a wig, my lord?"
-
"You just what? Insulted me? Yes, you did." He growled as an answer, smirking as the girl's stupor wore off.

"Oh you spoke without thinking? I had no idea." Came the mocking reply, sarcasm heavy. He spoke seriously, "I should really punish you for that. You deserve it." He ground his hips into Rontu's, and whispered cruelly "I really should."

"Bullshit. First you say one thing, then another. Truth."
-

Rontu swallowed thickly, silent for a moment, fearful-he parted his lips to speak, only to gasp in surprise as the other ground against him-oh-oh shit... He moaned softly under his breath, flushing as he squirmed under him. He could f-feel the prince, c-could feel his-
"A-ah..st...stop-" He breathed out, unused to the odd feeling heading down south, that bubbling...passion? He wriggled against him, trying to pull away as the other ground against him.

He...he was unused to this! He could feel his undergarments clinging to his front, his shaft rising against the dress edge, and he bit his lower lip, hoping, praying the Prince didn't notice or feel it as he tried to press back and avoid it, turning his head to the side, biting his lower lip.
"I-i-itdoesn'tmatterwhyIhaveshorthair!" He hissed out, trying not to moan as he bit down on his lower lip, and started to push at his chest.
"g-aah, r-r-reallynow,it-it'snotthatimportant!"


OhGod.Getoffgetoffgetoff!
-

"Why should I? Or have you forgotten your status already?" He smirked, doing as he pleased, grinning like a chesire cat when Rontu moaned, "It matters because I don't like you lying to me, now tell me the truth-"

What the... hold on. That.. what...
Xavier lifted his body and peered down at Rontu's waist, "Now, .. that.. can't be normal. You're..." He glared up at the acrobat, "Unless... short hair and ..." Taking a chance he hooked a finger on the neckline of the 'girls' dress and pulled a bit. "Are those sandbags..."
-


When he continued, he writhed under him, another low moan leaving him until-the other stopped and he was panting heavily, his eyes glazed with lust, and then panic when the other lifted his body-he didn't even have to look down to know what the other was looking at. He flushed hard and swallowed, his hands curling into fits at the sides of his head, and he tensed up when the other lowered the front of his dress, staring at the bags....
He bit his lower lip, flushing before he managed to push the other off and scoot away, fixing his dress over his front, and sititng with his knees up a bit, hiding his obvious arousal, face reddening. Oh...screw it.

He unbuttoned the back of his dress, just a bit, and trembling he pulled out the two bags and dropped them to the side, closing up his dress, and crossing his arms, silent now, embarassed, biting his lower lip as he glared at the floor.
".......I'm a boy." He whispered after a moment, swallowing quietly and chewing his lower lip.
-
Xavier sat back on his haunches, obviously confused. He watched the other closer as she... er... he, removed to contraption and admitted his gender. He remained expressionless with his chin in his hand. "I... see. Why did you lie?"

He kept his voice level, trying not to let the anger in him rise to the surface again. This was... rather strange. Actually, rather strange was putting it mildly, this was down right weird. The prince rolled back onto the balls of his feet before standing and leaning against the table edge, eyes trained on Rontu. "Your name makes a lot more sense now."

What would the king say now? He'd brought a male slave. Damnit, he'd never hear the end of it. Specially since he had just.. on the floor ... oh crap, he was in for it when his dad found out.
-

Rontu closed his eyes as the other slowly stood-he could hear the anger in his voice, however hard he tried to hide it, and he swallowed lightly and closed his eyes.
".....It-it's easier, to have a double act if we were the same gender. Th....the whole village knew, and-and it was easier-we got more gold than we did with me dressed normally.....And when people came to visit our town, and they didn't know about me, we got more coins. It...was easier, okay? I-I don't like dressing like this, but if I didn't we'd go hungry...."

It was true, double acts were more highly prized than single acts, and usually male and female groups had to be overly romantic. Of course being twins, that was disgusting, so same gender worked. Originally they had dressed as boys until Isabel's breasts grew in, and when money became scarce and less food on the plates, Rontu agreed to dress as a girl.

"We just...didn't want to die of hunger. It's ironic, being so close to a rich capital, and being so poor..." He spoke bitterly now, resting his elbows on his knees, staring down at the ground, more like glaring.
"I...hadn't meant to trick you, but I didn't get a chance to tell you either.......and now you know.....Guess you're pissed beyond reasoning."
What was going to happen? Despite how calm he seemed, he was panicking inside. Would he be dead now? Would hte Prince kill him, or or rape him maybe? Like those rumors.....
-
He crossed his arms, nodding slightly at the explanation. He couldn't deny it made sense, it really did. And it explained quite a few... looks. Well, damnit. "I... no... No, I'm not angry. Annoyed, yes, not angry." Annoyed at the fact that the .. guy... still making shots at higher classes. Really, who did he think fought in the wars? Not peasants, that's for sure. Who ran the economy that kept them ALL from starving? Who had to have their lives chosen for them? At least the acrobat could chose for himself, he had freedom... well, til now. Perhaps that was a small respite.

"Oh for crying out loud, quit looking at me like I'm going to rip your face off. It's not like you didn't enjoy it." He glared and pointed at Rontu's waist with a matter-of-fact tone. God above, that was rich. Why was he even explaining himself to a slave? Why did he even care? Damn Ona. Damn no room in the servants quarters. Just.. damn it all.
-
His shoulders slummped with relief, though his face didn't show it as he kept his eyes to the ground. Not angry-so...he was going to live?
He sighed in relief only to flush and glare up at him.

"I-I-I didn't enjoy it! It-you-you were all rubbing and-and-it just happened, not my fault, nothing I wanted!" He flushed as he tried to explain it, closing his knees together, as if ashamed, and he bit his lower lip, swallowing a bit before he sighed softly, rubbing his face. Oh lord, what a mess. He slowly stood up, hands over his front a bit, flushing-he was still aroused, again, not his fault, and he shifted uneasily on each foot, staring at the ground a bit, his face red as a cherry.

"....Can I um....change out of hte dress now?...Or....?"
-
Xavier ripped his eyes away from Rontu and glared at the floor. Ouch. He straightened up, and sighed, "Sure, whatever you say." He looked back again from behind his hair, "You keep telling yourself that." At the moment, the prince hoped the male got blue balls so bad his descendants would feel it. Petty? Maybe.

"I.. don't know actually. I don't think I really want the King finding out that you aren't female. You heard what he said back in Nernan. I'll... I'll ask Ona what she thinks later. If you want to change go right ahead." He walked over to his bed, turning his back on the boy. "I'll be over here if you want to change. You are not allowed in that bathroom except for emergencies. I don't need it destroyed more than it already is."
-
"I-I'm not lying! I-I don't like men, okay?!"
He stammered out, face red as he swallowed thickly, then nodded....
"I-it's not like you and I will, um, do anything... But I'd rather not have the king get pissed off and kill me over this..."
Of course he wanted to change, but when the other merely turned his back, he gaped at him for a moment.

"Y....you mean I-I can't use the bathroom?...W-well where the hell am I supposed to go when I need to?! B-besides.....you'll peek." He mumbled that last bit under his breath-he hadn't forgotten what the King had said, and he'd rather not have a male lusting Prince after him. He could feel this pain now, throbbing down there-he knew he had to fix it, he had been so busy his entire life, he never really did, err, pleasure himself, though he always heard men bragging about it and such... Eep, don'tthinkaboutit....
He shifted uneasily again, the front of his dress tenting out as he pressed it down, chewing his lower lip.
"Um.....I didn't bring anything other than dresses...."
-
"Sure." He sat on the bed and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small book. "And I'd like to be able to walk for the next month so yeah, we aren't telling him." He opened the book, flipping to the page he'd left off at before the festival. He smirked, control was easy and he certainly wouldn't be feeling any pain.

"No, you can't. General toilet uses count as emergencies and." He jerked his head around, "Oh fuck you, I would bloody not. Even if I wanted to look at your skinny, pathetic little body I could. You're a SLAVE, remember." Xavier turned back, staring at the book with anger but not really reading it. He slammed it shut at Rontu's last statement, "Oh for...  you have the riding clothes for yesterday, don't you? Wear those."

He glared at the book again, annoyed with himself for shutting it for now he'd lost his page. He flipped through it, trying to concentrate on it rather than the male on the other side of his room. Might as well read instead of staring at the wall knowing what was behind him.
-
Rontu blinked, then narrowed his eyes.
"Pathetic?! I'll have you know this body is WAY stronger, flexibler (I know it's not a word) and way better than your stumpy body!" He grabbed the bag off the bed and stormed into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him, huffing.
His body wasn't that skinny and-and he wasn't pathetic!
"...I'll have you know girls fawned all over me back at town," He called out as he pulled off the dress, relief now as he pulled on breeches and the tunic-it was less constricting at the chest now that he had no sacks of sand.
Before he closed the breeches, he stared at his shaft... Err....
 He gave a glance to the door before he moved over to the toilet, flushing-he remembered what he heard in taverns and such, and, now embarrassed, he took a hold of it in one hand....

"M-mn...." He clamped a hand over his mouth when he did the first stroke, shivering with delight for a moment-holyfuck. Again, more firmly, and soon he had a rhythm, covering his mouth and breathing harshly through his nose, silencing himself as he worked harder, and harder....
Hell if he thought of doign this before or after shows-definitely would save stress, and fuck did it feel good....

He could feel the pleasure building, and soon his shaft was dribbling-he was bending over the toilet now, his legs wobbling as he bit down on his hand, a soft moan muffled-he spasmed as he came, sucking in a sharp breath and crying out into his fist, hopefully the other didn't hear that...
As he finished his legs gave way, and panting hard he sat on the floor, back to the wall and eyes closed.
After a while, he cleaned up, face red as he washed his hands and flushed the toilet, zipping up the breeches and tucking the dress into his bag, closing it up before leaving the bathroom and dropping his bag onto the bed, sitting there and chewing his lower lip.
.....He had to get out of here.
-

"You're just jealous that people liked me for who I am and not who my father is!" He retorted, crossing his arms, only to blink and flush red as the other-
"P...pervert."
He.....he wasn't that, um, loud was he?
He turned his back to the other, wriggling in place for a moment, tense-oh God, how embarrassing-he....heard him?! And why the hell had he not been affected by-by the grinding from earlier? I mean hell, what did he have, ED or something?
Would explain why he was such an ass.

Rontu crossed his legs under him, shifting now so that his back was against the headboard, and he was digging through his bag idly, intent on ignoring the Prince now. He shifted through small trinkets he had picked up here and there, and eventually he calmed a bit-he even smiled as he fingered a small little bone whistle in his bag, digging past fabrics and stuff..... Ahh, he was feeling homesick... and Issie-would she realize she was being followed soon?
-
"You know, you keep insulting me. You do know that I have someone following your sister, right? You were there when I told him to do so." Threats were no fun when they were subtle. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard, flicking his eyes at Rontu's back before looking at the book.

"Yeah, I'm the pervert. Hate to break it to you but I'm not the one jacking off in the bathroom. So, who's the pervert exactly?" Xavier chuckled to himself, wondering exactly what he'd do with the boy once the King returned from his trip. Make him dress like a girl again?
-
He paled then, looking to him in shock before he turned away. Fuck.
He bit his lower lip, though the other didn't press on the issue, he swallowed quietly, his voice hollow.
"....If anything happens to her......" He trailed off coldly, hands curling into fists as he glared at the window. It wasn't a threat, it was more of a warning-he didn'tk now what he'd do if she was dead-he was already hurting from not being around her, being so far away-no doubt she was feeling it too....

After a moment, the topic was changed, and his face reddened as he pulled a pillow into his arms, hugging it tightly.
"W-w-well what e-else was I s-supposed to do?! It.........itwashurting...." He mumbled softly that last bit, looking away, face red before he buried it into the pillow. He still felt sore, and it took him a moment to realize he hadn't done his normal exercise.....Well there was no reason to do them now, and besides, he was sure the Prince would....watch....
He needed to though, because he was planning on escaping via window....
-
Xavier blinked and stood abruptly, stalking over the the male like a cat eyeing it's prey. Stopping in front of Rontu, hand brushing across the hilt of his knife, "Did you just threaten me? You? The slave?" He pushed the pillow down til he could see the boy's face. "Of course it was hurting, that's why you weren't allowed in the bathroom. You weren't supposed to take care of it but you didn't listen to that either, did you? You don't listen to a damn word I say despite being in a position where I could very easily have everything you care about destroyed."

With a few flicks of his wrist the knife was out of it's sheath and buried in the mattress beside the acrobat, so close to his thigh it had torn the leggings slightly. "It's not fucking funny."
-

When the pillow was pushed down-Rontu's eyes were red-he had been crying. HE sucked in a breath when he saw the hand on the blade, and went still, tense... He slowly pulled his eyes up, staring at him, swallowing quietly, only to flinch and gasp as the knife stabbed into the mattress. He felt it slice his pants and he scooted to the side for a moment, his eyes never leaving the other's.... He was trembling quietly, and finally e tore his eyes away, clutching the pillow as he stared down, taking a small breath.
"....I'msorry." He whispered and said nothing more, merely sitting there, quivering in place and clutching the pillow as if it was a means of his life. He felt the tears blurring his vision and he only blinked them away.

He hadn't wanted this-he didn't want to blame Issie for this but-but damn it! He just.....it....it wasn't fair, and that's what tore at him. The fact that he hated royalty so mcuh, and yet had to be here, had to obey and listen-he hated that, and he knew that would get in the way of his thoughts, and yet....
"...I-I'm sorry." Another whisper, only louder than the first, and his voice wavered as he let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.
"It....it's not funny at all.....my lord. I......I won't disobey again..."
-
Xavier brought his fingers under the boy's chin, bringing up his face, a gesture quite reminiscent of that night in the caravan, as he yanked the knife out of the mattress and placed it in its holder, "There now, was that so hard?"

Oh crap, Rontu was crying. How could someone make him feel angry and guilty within 5 minutes. It had happened multiple times this morning and it was just the first day, "If you listen, you'll be fine. If you listen, I won't hurt you. I don't want to, so don't make me." He kept his hand there, holding up the acrobat's face just in case he tried to look away again.

The look of hatred, he'd rather that over the disgust radiating from the other male every so often. If Rontu would listen, he could pretend that the moment on the floor hadn't felt great. He could pretend he hadn't listened with such keen interest. He could treat this one as a slave should be treated. Indifference.
-
As his face was lifted, he tensed, closing his eyes for a moment-it made a few tears leak out, and when he opened his eyes, the other withdrew the blade and slipped it back into it's sheath.

He swallowed quietly and made to look away, if only for a second, but the other's eyes drew him back, and he clutched the pillow, giving a small sniff.
"........Yes..." He muttered honestly, swallowing again and bringing a hand to quickly wipe at his eyes, keeping his face there, held up by that surprisingly gentle hand ,that moment before had stabbed into the bed.

".....I....I'll listen...I just.....fuuuuuuck..."
It was a hellovalot to take in, a headache was forming and he was filled with distraught again.
Oh, Issie.... His shoulders quivered but he didn't cry again, blinking quickly hugging the pillow tightly and silently, sniffing every so often.

".....I...I'll be good...Just....just don't hurt my sister.......please..."
-

Oh god no. He had no idea what to do, Rontu bursting into tears was not what he expected. Xavier decided to try what Ona did for him when he was younger, so he sat on the bed and pulled the male into a hug, "I'm sorry, please don't cry! I won't hurt her, I just.. agh, I'm sorry."

... Wait, did he just go from threatening the male with bodily harm to comforting him? Really? This acrobat was going to cause him to develop a mental disorder and it was the first fucking DAY.
-
"..Sh.......She's all I have left....."
Alright, it was fucking surprising to be held.
When the other had made for him, he actually recoiled at first, a hiccup caught in his throat. Arms encircled him, and he found his face against the other's chest. He blinked, and hearing the apologies his shoulders trembled and he closed his eyes, fresh tears leaking out.

Oh fuck he was confused now, and yet he found himself pulling into him more, burying his face into his chest, silently sobbing against him.
He was silent, unresponsive for a while before he pulled away slowly, rubbing at his red eyes and sniffling, eyes down cast as he nodded quietly.
The prince.....was odd, he was torn between hating his guts and being mildly okay with him-he secretly admitted to himself that the comfort was nice, that relaxed feeling of being in his arms-

His face reddened somewhat and he tucked his head down into the pillow for a moment, shaking his head.
Nononononono. No, he wasn't into that-it was just an emotional surge he felt. Yes, that's what it was.
He swallowed and made to look up, faltering and lowering his gaze rather quickly.
"Y.....y-you're confusing...." He spoke after a while, holding the pillow and looking off to the side, rubbing at his eyes again.
-

He really did not like this horribly guilty feeling the crying was triggering. The prince sighed, really, his first slave and he was making a horrible mess of it. He could already hear the handmaid giggling, she'd known, she always knew. Hadn't she helped the boy change back in Nernan? Xavier tried not to pull away when Rontu accepted the hug, and the head pressed against his chest really didn't help that lump in his throat.

When Rontu pulled away he let his arms fall to his side, "I'm sorry..." He quietly said again, eyes flicking to the floor before looking back. Why... why was the male's face red? And why in the world did he shake his head? Did... he didn't believe him, well, that wasn't surprising. Wait.. He listened to the stuttering statement and gave a small smile, "You are too. I'm supposed to be mad at you, yet you make me feel guilty."

Why WAS that? He was sure that would be considered a weakness. Maybe he could ask Ona later. She was pretty much his mother-figure, having been with him since day 1, so, she'd probably know why...
-
He hiccuped and wiped at his face with the back of his wrist, sniffing again and gave a soft smile back, shrugging.
"I guess-"

There was a knock on the door and the boy looked over his shoulder, startled for a moment.
"My lord, a request from Lady Mia, to have tea with her on the balcony above the garden maze. She said...and I quote, 'bring your new little pet'."
It was no secret that Lady Mia loved the Prince, despite how he ignored her advances and such, but she was not one to be trifled with, and to ignore her request would obviously make the King annoyed, for he considered her a suitable bride.

"...Pet?" Rontu whispered, almost annoyed-his eyes fell over the wig on the table, and he crawled off the bed, picking it up and the clasps as the messenger knocked again.
"My lord, are you there?"
Rontu glanced over to the Prince  when he replied, before he clipped his hair back and lowered his head, pushing the wig on and attaching the snaps to the clips. He flipped his hair back as he stood, adjusting it a bit before he picked up the bags of sand, flushing lightly as he dropped it on the bed and dug through his bag, pulling out a dark green dress. He stared down at it, then flushed.
"Um.....don't peek...."
Of course the other said he wasn't interested-but he still didn't want eyes on him.
-
He chuckled, "My pet, I guess, the horror." Standing the prince answered the servant's question with a barked yes, realizing with a groan who he was about to face.

Xavier sighed, she was such an overbearing woman. She was worse than Isabel by far because he could do NOTHING to stop her because of his damn father. The was likely the reason he'd been so harsh on the twin sister, her forward manner reminding him way too much of Lady Mia. He stood quickly, shucking a tear stained shirt in exchange for a fresh one from his drawer and a more formal jacket.

He heard Rontu say something else and turned, "What did you sa-" With a squeak he turned around quickly. No peeking had obviously been what was stated by any guess of the acrobat's state of undress. "Didn't mean to do that!" Xavier shook his head, why was he pretty much apologizing. Rontu was a slave damnit. A slave.

He waited until the male was done then turned again, "After this we'll go down to my arena and start the fire training." He walked to the door, opening it for the "girl".
-
"H-HEY"!
He gasped, flushing-he was in his undergarments, one leg in the dress. He pulled it up wuickly to cover his front, face red as the other turned back quickly aorund.
"L-liar...." He mumbled as he pulled up the dress, slipping into it and sliding the sacks and straps, fitting into it. He zipped up the dress, and making sure the other didn't see, bounced lightly in place to see if they'd shift. When he was assured they'd stay in place, he zipped up the back of his dress and fixed his hair a bit more, slipping on his shoes-simple made moccasins- and as the door was opened he flushed lightly, chewing his lower lip.
"Thought I was a slave..." He mumbled as he stepped out, blinking in surprise. The hallway was elegant, grand, with marble flooring. He gawked a bit, staring at it all, then at the messenger. He lowered his gaze when the messenger blinked, then grinned at him.
"Why hello there miss-" He broke off when the Prince stepped out, and he quickly bowed to the Prince, then turned to lead the two down the hallway.
Rontu took a step behind Prince Xavier, and though he knew slaves didn't raise their eyes-he couldn't stop looking around and gaping at elegant things here and there.
Soon they stopped near a balcony, and Rontu stared at the lone table covered in luxeries and food. Sitting there with a maid holding a lace umbrella over a lady. She was blonde with green eyes, pale skin-she was...beautiful. Rontu stood there, flushing and staring at her-hotdamn.
She was reading a book, but when she heard them approach she marked her place and looked up, smiling and extending her hand to Xavier for him to kiss.
"Why, Prince Xavier, how wonderful to see you~ And I see you brought your little pet...." She looked towards Rontu know, who swallowed and looked down a bit, and she 'hmmed' quietly.
"She doesn't look like much.... She's far too skinny, and that hair-pitch black like the devil's....She's short as well-seriously Xavier, why even take her? I doubt she can do any task, let alone....satisfy you."

She stood up now, and slowly circled Rontu, hmphing lightly.
"Can you sing, slave? I bet that's why he chose you. Sing to me."
"I-Uh...m-my lady....I can't sing." He spoke quietly, chewing his inner cheek. She frowned, then crossed her arms.
"Can you dance?"
"N...not in regular ways, my lady..."
"Then what use are you?"
".....I am merely a performer, my lady...."
"Sexual? Oh of course not, your a gangly thing."

That shut him up, and she laughed as his face reddened as he stammered, only she interrupted him by snapping at him that slaves should only speak when spoken to. She then smiled to Xavier, and sat back down.
"Care for some tea, my lord? Your little slave needs discipline....oh, I know." She motioned for a hand maid and spoke to her quietly, then smiled and motioned Rontu to look over the balcony.
"Do you see that? All the hedges are cut to make a maze. Each push is eight foot high, and you can see the entire maze from up here. Now, I've sent my maid to place my fan at the center of the maze. Go find it for me."

Rontu blinked, then glanced towards Xavier, only the lady snapped at him again for looking around. He ducked his head down, hands curling into fists, gritting his teeth as she told a maid to lead him downstairs. He threw a glare over his shoulder when the woman wasn't looking, and he stuck his tongue out before he was led down the stairs into the garden. The maid led him to the far side opening, and when he looked up, he could see the balcony. The lady Mia looked down at him and waved, and he gave a gold grin, knowing he couldn't hear her.
"That's right, bitch, you goo n and wave...."
-

"You are, that doesn't mean I can't have manners." He smirked, like it wasn't already obvious he was bad at this 'slave thing'. He shut the door behind him, giving a sharp glare to the servant that was outside. Xavier followed the messenger, efficiently staring ahead, he'd seen these things many times over. A quick glance back made him chuckle, the acrobat was going to get whiplash if he kept spinning his head like that.

They arrived at the place his father had permanently set aside for the lady. Mentally, he rolled his eyes. If his majesty liked her that much why didn't HE marry her. It's not like Xavier's mother was still alive. But he sucked it up and bowed, barely ghosting his lips across her hand. It wasn't completely horrid spending time with her, the woman seemed to love putting her chest on display and his eyes really didn't mind that. "The pleasure is all mine might I say that you look absolutely lovely today." He nodded, straightening from the bow, "Yes, got her in Nernan only recently, but I'm betting someone as... resourceful as you already knew that."

He raised an eyebrow at her criticisms of Rontu, trying desperately not to laugh. Was the high noble lady jealous of some slave? Wait, what was that insult? "I happen to like her hair, considering tis very near my own shade." The prince sat when the servant pulled out a chair for him. He merely listened as the woman interrogated Rontu, why didn't she just ask him? .... Oh he wished he could tell her about Isabel. Damn she would turn such a satisfying shade of green.

Xavier nodded at the question of tea, thanking the servant when he was poured some. He almost chocked on a sip of the tea when he saw Rontu stick out his tongue at the lady. When questioned what was wrong, he merely waved it off as an accident rather than the laughter it had almost turned in to. "Well, my dear, I brought her because she can wield fire. I find that could be very useful in battle and she was the best in the town. You really shouldn't order my slaves around, Mia, they aren't your property. One might consider that... undermining my authority. You understand, of course." A gracious smile coupled with a cruel glint in his eyes made her flinch.

"Your maze is looking far more elaborate this year." His eyes scanned it, already noting many exit and entrance routes. Mazes, puzzles, they'd always come easy to him, much to the dismay of the Lady who had constantly tried to get him and her lost in it. When Rontu appeared down there he remained expressionless, it would do no good to let the lady know that he wasn't completely indifferent towards the acrobat.
-
Mia smiled and sipped her tea, staring down at the maze.
"They say women are the devil themselves-I meant no insult to you, my lord..."
She trailed off as she could see Rontu, and she gave a mocking wave. She couldn't see the slave girl's face, but she could tell form her posture that she did not like this one bit. It made Mia smile more, and as the maid poured Prince Xavier's tea, she rose a fair brow and smiled.
"Undermining, my lord? I wouldn't call it that...considering within the following years, she'll become my slave." She was hinting on something, and she smiled quietly to herself, giggling at what she saw below.

"Oh, your slave is rather clumsy..."
"Stupid....bush!" He grunted as he tugged on the edge of hte dress-the maid at the entrance was laughing, and he flicked her off, grunting. Not even ten paces and his dress snagged! He gave it another tug and stumbled backwards, hitting the hedge. He swore loudly, to where Mia flushed-of course they were high up, and for him to just swear that loudly..
"Oh my, village girls are coarse of tongue, how horrid...."

She trailed off as Rontu now struggled with the back of his dress out of the hedge, and finally he stormed through the front part of the maze.
"Stupid wench...why the hell do I have to do this?! And stupid Xavier, trying not to laugh!" When the other had been holding back his laughter when that wench was snapping ath is looks, he felt he was laughing at him!

That made him angry, and he turned the corner, finding a dead end. It irked him when he heard Mia laughing, He growled and turned, heading down a different route. Every ten minutes he'd reach a dead end, or he felt he saw the place... He snagged his dress again, a piece ripping and falling, and a while later-he came across the fabric. He stared at it, then cried out in anger and punched at a hedge. He lost balance and fell halfway through, and with a hand on his wig he tugged himself out, falling back on his bum.


"Oh my, she's just sitting there.... No need to be lasy my dear!" She called out the last bit, but Rontu remained sitting there, knees up, head on them, swearing under his breath.
Minutes went by before he forced himself up, walking slower now, angered, and as he turned the corner, he saw a large fountain-and the fan sitting on the edge. He walked over and picked it up, blinking before he washed his face in the fountain.
Stupid wench.
He headed past the fountain, tucking the fan into his belt as he walked. He grew confused, but when he tried to go back, he couldn't find the fountain, and he grew distraught.
It had been hours now, he was starving and exhausted.....oh this pissed him off...
-
"Of course, do not undermine your gender, m'dear, you've been listening to Father Caht too much." After hearing 'devil' and 'women are the devil' come from the Lady's mouth it was obvious she had been. The man was a painfully annoying zealot that both him and his father had run off many times. Xavier enjoyed the tea for a moment, smirking coldy at her reply, "Oh you think so do you? Well, until that happens please don't. She is my property and I would rather she only obeyed me, alright?"

He winced as Rontu fell, "Yeah..." What acrobat was clumsy? ... Oh wait, he thought back to the many times the slave had fallen since he'd met him. Well, ok, not the most graceful acrobat. Xavier gripped the arm of his chair with one hand, setting the tea down with his other. "Heh, I assume most of us would swear when frustrated. Or, well, I don't think you would, right? Too much of a lady."

An eyelid twitched when she called the boy lazy. LAZY? She sat on her ass all day while that slave had worked for every bite. She had never worked a day in her life, at least most of the other nobles did paperwork, charity, strategy, tactics, war, SOMETHING. She did piddly squat.

After an hour or two had passed of Rontu wandering and looking more tired by the minute he asked Lady Mia to send someone for 'her'. He was getting really sick of the blatant flirting and the cocky attitude the woman had of their 'impending marriage.'

"Oh, but the slave needs to get out herself, that's the rules."

"Woman, Remember your place." He stood, glaring at her, striding out of the room and down to the maze. After a bit of searching and listening he finally found Rontu.

"Come on, I'll get you out of here." He grasped his arm gently, turning around to lead the slave out when Mia called from her balcony.

"You could have left the little slut there! You're a prince and shouldn't be traipsing about down there!"

Xavier growled and whipped around to face Rontu, "This will shut that bitch up." He wrapped a hand around the back of the acrobat's neck, pulling him closer and planting a rather long kiss on his lips. A screech of indignation from the balcony assured the prince that the Lady Mia had seen it. He pulled away, staring at Rontu to gauge his reaction before turning and pulling on his arm again.

Once they were out of the maze, he led the slave back up to Lady Mia's balcony, "See? Wasn't it much more efficient to just retrieve her?"
-
He was breathing hard, sweating, with tiny cuts from branches over his arms, and his dress was ruined. He gasped softly when he felt a hand on his arm, turning quickly and blinking in surprise. He wiped some sweat and mud from his face, breathing hard and shaking his head.
"I thought I had to....ah screw it, get me out of here...." He mumbled softly, only to blink and glare up at the lady. Wha-slut!? Look who was talking-she was worse than Issie, and Issie was a virgin!
He was following slowly, exhausted, tired, only when Xavier turned to look at him, he blinked slowly. Was he ....going to leave him?
"Wha-"

Lips crashed against his and he gasped-an arm pulled him closer, another by the neck, and his eyes widened in the kiss..... His eyes closed somewhat, just a bit-wh.....he felt a surge in his chest that reached his gut-a fluttering feeling that vibrated through him.
When he heard the screech, he snapped from his thoughts and opened his eyes, exhaling a breath he held as Prince Xavier stood back.
Wh...... his mind was a dazed blur, his cheeks flushed red. He was breathing softly, stunned into obedience as he followed him out. It seemed his mind was blank for a moment, only when he saw Mia, standing there, annoyed-his mind jogged and he flushed red-but this time with anger. He pulled from Xavier and stormed ahead of him, his eyes a blaze as he pulled out the fan, and opened it. She blinked in surprise, then smiled and reached out to take it, only he drew it back, fanning himself for a moment.
"I'd like to see you try that, bitch." And with one movement, he slapped her hard with the lace fan, dropping it into her outstretched hand as she gawked at him, a hand on her reddening cheek.

"Y....you horrible little wretch! How dare you-" She swung out with her hand and slapped him hard. He glared-and gave a hard tug on her hair, messing it up. She slapped him then grabbed him, and both of them yellign and cursing they fell to the ground, struggling to fight-Rontu could have easily punched her and such, but he was holding back despite his anger, only now the lady Mia was on top, punching and-now he was on top, pulling her hair as she scratched at him.
"You rich bitch!"
"Common slut!"
-
Xavier had laughed at Rontu's words, they were true, Lady Mia couldn't do that if she tried.

But then yelped as Rontu hit her, "You can't do that-" And then she hit him, "Don't touch my-" And then they fought, "Oh fuck it." He reached down, grabbing both of them by an arm and holding them as far apart from each other as possible, receiving a few scratches in the process. Eyes glittering with concealed mirth he feigned a glare to Rontu.

"You know better! You WILL be punished when we return!" Expression hardening as he turned to Lady Mia, "And your actions are unbecoming of a Lady of your status. I will be LEAVING now."
-
As they were separated, they made a few more lunges at each other until the Prince yelled at Rontu. He flinched as Mia snickered, and he glared up somewhat at Xavier.
"But-but she started it!"
And then he snapped at Mia, and Rontu felt a bit better, flashing her a smug look, though-was he going to get punished? He licked some blood from his lips, crossing his arms and brooding a bit.

He shifted, and crossed his arms. Something felt wrong, and when he glanced down, he realized one breast was smaller, and a pile of sand was starting to fall on the floor. He turned his back ot them both quickly, putting a hand over his chest-dammit, her nails must've torn a boob!
He bit down on his lower lip, then winced-it was split from a hit she gave him...

"That little harlot started this and-" As he snapped at her, Mia gasped softly, a hurt look forming on her bruised face. She huffed lightly and glared at Rontu, then turned and hastily left. Rontu glanced over his shoulder, watching her leave, cupping his chest a bit...
"........Skank."
-
"I really don't care who started it." He muttered to himself as she left, turning to Rontu.

"Really? Attacking nobles? What are you smoking... Huh, well that's not good." Only one reason the slave would be in a posture like that. Eyes scanning the floor, he saw a bit of the mess and kicked it with his boot so it merely looked like a messy footprint. "Let's get you back before you leak anymore, madam."

He put his hand back on Rontu's arm, steering him out the door while flashing a smile at the maid going in the door, "Please tell your mistress that I will send reparations for her dress."

She nodded, bewildered and the royal left, dragging his slave along behind, "Do you have any idea how much that dress of hers probably cost? Damnit, that's going to rape my wallet." After a walk Xavier opened the door to his bedroom and led Rontu in, shutting and bolting the door behind him.

"Though, I won't lie. It was nice to see that little bitch get her ass kicked." He looked down at Rontu's chest, "Hmm, I bet Ona can fix that... Oh um... Oh I can't tell her can I? Um.." He shook his head, trying to figure out a solution to fixing the contraption, "You know, she wouldn't tell Dad, yeah, here, give me me, I'll take it to her."

Xavier reached over, unbuttoning Rontu's dress from behind and unhooking the sandbags from his body, slipping them over the acrobat's head, he chuckled, "You are more trouble than your worth."
-
"That no good-she started it-and she got what she deserved! What the hell did I ever do to her for her to hate my guts?!" He hissed to Xavier as he walked with him up the stairs, and as the other noticed he flushed lightly,almost dropping his hand from his chest but deciding against it.

"Why the hell would she even buy a pricey dress-it doesn't even look good. She looks fat in it."
Alright, he was still obviously pissed about the whole ordeal, crossing his arms as they entered the room, and he snorted quietly.
"Besides, I didn't tear it, just pulled and crap-look at me! She should pay for this, but that wouldn't even dent her wallet."
Muddy, torn, it wasn't even green anymore but a dark brown in the front. As the other looked down at his chest, he flushed lightly-why was it even bothering him?! It...it wasn't like they were real...

"She doesn't know, so, um....I guess?..." Tell her or not, he didn't know-as long as it didn't result in his death.
"as the other walked around him and unzipped him, he shivered as a breeze kissed his skin.
"D-do you mind?! I can take it off myself thankyouverymuch!" But the other slipped it off, spilling sand over Rontu's head when it was removed. the boy shook out his hair and closed his eyes, slipping up the dress quickly, then spitting some out to the side, snorting.

"That tramp is trouble, oozing all over you like that-does she even know your gay?" He moved over to his bag, holding the front as he pulled outa long sleeved leather top that revealed midriff-ahhh, he must've grabbed Isabel's top instead of his.... He grabbed the rest of the things and laid them out on the bed.
"....I'm goign to go change, um, if we're still doing the fire wielding. Get a leather outfit and gloves." He made sure the Prince turned before he dropped the muddy, ruined garments, and it took him a moment to slip into black pants-skin tight. He paused, then flushed, sticking his hand in his pants and sliding in a cup to push 'it' back, giving him a smooth front now, feminine. He wore on a black vest now, and slipped into leather knee pads and boots, then slid on the leather top, his midriff covered by the black spandex. He at last slid on leather gloves with slits at the knuckles, and oddly enough, they were fingerless.
 He tied his hair back and then slid on a leather bit around his neck, the thick part resting against his chest. He made sure everything was skin tight besides the leather, no loose ends, then he sat on the bed.

"Um, I don't know where my fire kit is-can you bring it here? And we'll need open space, and tons of water. You're going to make a hell lot of mistakes.....full leather for you, I want you to be a walking cow ass. Leave nothing uncovered save for your head-you need the peripheral vision. Make sure you can bend in your clothes, you need to be quick, and agile. Now go get my boobs fixed.....and see if you can get me some ointment-please. One, you'll be burning yourself and you'll need it-and two, that damn bitch cut me up with her nails."
-
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you could take it off yourself. Whatever," He grumbled, "Inefficient toothpick." He draped the contraption over his arm, turning and just standing there, giving the other male privacy while he ranted. At his next statement Xavier rolled his eyes, "Why do you care if she 'oozes' over me?" He paused, giving the boy enough time to respond, "It's what happens when someone wants you, or have you forgotten your sister already?" he snarled, "And for your information I have been with females many times, so seriously, enough."

He waited after that, listening to the instructions and nodding, "You suck as a slave, bossy thing. Alright, I'll be right back."

The prince left then, again, closing and bolting the door behind him. He walked down the hall to Ona's room and knocked.

"Oh, I'm glad you're here, may I come in? I need to speak with you in private." He asked hesitantly.

"Of course dear."

Once inside, Ona shut the door and asked him what the matter was. He explained the situation, extremely grateful when she agreed to help him keep the secret. Once she'd fixed the contraption he left, hearing her warning.

"The King will find out. Will it be because you tell the truth? Or will he have to uncover the lie?"

"Quit trying to sound ominous, you old biddy."

Xavier left for the barracks, retrieving his old leather armor from the storage there. It covered the majority of his body already, custom-made black leather. Was everything he owned black? Geez. He'd used it for early training with his assassin master and was pleased to see that it was only a little tight because of his height growth and general muscle growth. He had it adjusted at the blacksmiths, which took an hour or so, and arrived back at his bedroom, dressed in the armor and holding Rontu's fire bag in one hand, ointment in the other. "For your scratches you big baby."
-
Rontu stammered for a moment, then shrugged.
"I-I don't care at all-she-she's just sleazy is all I'm saying......M...my sister's different! She was....seizing an opprotunity."
He trailed off, only to chuckle, huffing in annoyance.
"So what? Yea I'm a slave, but am I going to sit obediently as you burn the entire castle down? Actually....I kinda would." He shrugged, teasing as the other left, and he laid down with a small grunt. he was still dirty, he wasn't sure if the Prince would let him bathe at all-ick. He probably bathed in perfume and crap.
Within an hour he was bored, but he was laying there, the time spent well-the gears in his head were working as he held up the little red marble into the light, staring up at it, a soft smile on his lips....If he was her, he'd head in the opposite direction of Dunsport.... That gives a five city chance at where she was right now. He'd have to look at a map when he got the chance.

When the other returned he took the contraption after tucking away the marble into his pocket, and when the Prince turned around he slipped it under his clothing and snapped it on before taking up the ointment. He dabbed a little over his wounds before he pocketed it, then looked at the Prince's clothing.
"....Hmnn, I guess it'll do...." He went to his bag and pulled out two straps of leather. He looped one around the other's neck, the heavy bit resting against his chest, and then the smaller band he tied about the other's forehead, making sure hte flat side was out, covering it. He examined him again, then nodded-eh, he was sure the Prince wouldn't burn himself too badly....

He took his bag from the other carefully, and as the Pricne unbolted the door he followed him, wearing black socks. The floor was cold as he was led down stairs and stairs, and finally outside. He looked up and about-he could run, but he doubted he'd make it far... In the courtard, people were giving them looks as Rontu headed to the center and settled his bag gently to the floor, opening it and peering in.
"Now then... my lord, if you'll please fetch me coals? Lots of them please."
He pulled out a tarp and laid it out at the center, pinning it with large rocks as he pulled out a canteen of oil, and a smaller container that held gasoline. He pulled out soem flint stones, sitting down now as he pulled out three torches. There seemed to be more things in his bag, but he closed it up-basics first, after all. When the servants arrived with coal and such, he took three and handed them to the Prince.

"Can you juggle, my lord?" He picked up three himself, and began to juggle them easily.
"You need to know how. And before you scoff at it being a performer's thing-I learned how to juggle from a knight of another country, it saved his life. Because, with juggling," He juggled faster, glancing around before he saw a training pole from afar, "Comes great aim and focus," One bit of coal seemed to vanish, and a second later, a clack was heard against hte pole, the coal falling nad leaving a black spot. He threw another, still holding a rhythm as he grabbed  two more coals, until all five coals hit the pole-and all at the same spot.
"Knives, daggers, slings-it's all about balance. Now then, try to juggle three pieces of coal. We wont' work with any fire until you get the basics down." Rontu then sat down, picking up some coal and juggling it idily, watching the other form his seated position, ready to correct him if necessary.'
-
 Xavier groaned, wishing and praying to whatever deity existed that no one would be in the courtyard and see him in this get-up, being bossed around by a rather non-slavelike slave. No such luck... of course.... His luck had taken a dive this whole damn week! He glared at a laughing recruit nearby, effectively silencing him. He watched Rontu set up his equipment with interest as servants retrieved the coal. "I'm amazed you could afford this stuff."

He tried to reply yes to the boy's next question but he just rambled on without him, even going so far as to, what the recruits were muttering, show off. Well, he could do that too, since Rontu wouldn't listen. Xavier smirked and walked past Rontu's equipment to the weapon rack. He chose 3 daggers of varying size and turned, "You know..." He flipped each one into the air and soon they were spinning in the classic circle, "I was trained by the best..." He threw each weapon, in a row they stabbed themselves into the dirt at Rontu's feet, across the field, "I'm not completely inept."

That earned a cheerful response from their growing and curious audience. He walked back over to the acrobat, bending down to yank each dagger from the ground, "Those rumors exist for a reason, Rontu." He set the daggers aside, grinning mildly.
-
"I did a lot of favors for folk just to get this all. Most of it I made though...." He trailed off as the other grabbed daggers, and he gawked for a moment as he watched him juggle. He watched the blades land neatly-he didn't flinch though he did blink, and he frowned at the cheering. Jerk.
"Well....alright then, you pass somewhat." Annoyed, he piled up some coals and began to douse them in oil.
"Make sure the oil is mixed with animal lard-it helps against preventing burns. The faster you juggle ,the less likely you'll get burned, but better safe than sorry. Also keeps them from burning out too quickly."

He picked up six coals and handed three to the other, then lit the ones in his hand-he began to juggle in fingerless gloves, at the same pace he did with unlit coals, then tapped them against Xavier's.
"Don't stop juggling, keep at it until the small stings fade." He moved his juggling to one hand as he bent to get a torch, and lit the tip with the passing coals before adding it into the mix.

"So you can juggle with daggers, and with coals. Have you tried them both? You'll need different weights in your hands, helps with the focus. I'm going to pass it to you, don't stop juggling, and focus on grabbing the non lit end." He smirked as he juggled, and tossed him the torch neatly, then began to douse the coals he had in his own hands, closing them in his fists before dropping them and picking up the small canteen of gasoline.
"Now then, don't stop juggling, you'll feel lightly burned at your finger tips by now but it'll fade away soon enough."
He brought the canteen to his lips and took a swig, though he did not swallow. He sloshed it aorund before he spat it out, wiping his lips as he watched Xavier before he blew out towards him. As his breath touched hte burning items in Xavier's hand, the fires expanded, and seemed to connect the items in a ring. Rontu blew again, then stood back.
"Keep the circle right, my lord, and I'll teach you how to make that into a whip if you can keep it in line for a minute."

[tired is gonna finish tomorrow]