arkadian_mouse

Once upon a time… isn’t that how most stories begin? I think it is. I mean, I’ve read hundreds of stories in my life and the majority of them start with ‘Once Upon a Time’.

My name is Jack Whitely, and let’s get one thing straight: I’m not.

What does this have to do with my story? Well, seeing as how this is the story of how I found my true love, I would have to say ‘a lot’.

I’m a librarian in a small town with a population of little more than one-hundred people to its name. I was lucky to even get six or seven visitors to the library in a week, and that was only in times when the high-schoolers finally realized they had projects due the next day. If they realized. Galen High School was renowned for its exceedingly high drop-out rate. Few people in Galen were literate enough to care about a library.

And they had finally decided to close it down.

I ran my fingers desperately through my chocolate brown hair. Silently, I cursed. How could they only give me a month to construct my plea? I wasn’t giving up without a fight, though, and they knew it.

I heard the bell above the library door tinkle as someone came in. I immediately went back to writing and swearing; anyone bold enough to come to the library knew their way around it.

“Excuse me?” I jumped out of my seat, accidentally dragging the pen across the paper and leaving a long ink mark. I stared in astonishment at the letter I had so carefully created, now marred by a thick black scar. I felt like crying.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” said the voice. It was a man, but he sounded sincere.

“Oh, it- it was nothing to worry about. How may I help you?” I slowly raised my head to look at the intruder, and almost fell out of my chair again.

He had purple hair. Beautiful, well-kept, purple hair. My heart almost stopped. Who in their right mind dyed their hair purple? Unfortunately, it looked good on him. Breathtakingly good.

I could have slapped myself. Here I was, drooling over a man who had just destroyed any hope of saving my library.

Then I saw his eyes, which were also purple. I gaped, not really caring anymore. This man was a god to me.

“Um, what can I do for you?” I asked, wincing at the sound of my soft, quiet voice. Too many years with only the company of books could do that to you.

“I’m looking for a book on the Russian Revolution,” he asked politely, still looking sorrowfully at the destroyed letter. I prayed that he might not have seen my astonished face, but as his words sunk in, my hope deflated.

On the Russian Revolution? This guy had to be in high school. I felt slightly disgusted with myself, though I could have sworn he looked older. Maybe spending too much time huddled with my books was a bad thing.

“Got a project due?” I asked. The man blinked briefly.

“Oh, you must be mistaken. I’m not in school, in fact, I’m probably just as old as you,” he flashed a brilliant smile. “I just felt like reading up on some good old Stalin and Trotsky.”

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. “Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t get many people here, but I know most of the people in town. I just assumed you were a new student.”

The man waved away my excuse. “Please, don’t worry. I get mistaken for a teen all the time. It must be the hair.” He waggled a pierced eyebrow as if to point at the purple locks. “You are correct, though. I am new to town. My car broke down, but I decided to stay anyway.”

I could just nod dumbly. This man truly was extraordinary. Before I could embarrass myself further, I jotted down the name and number of a Russian Revolution novel and motioned to the section it could be found in. The man gave a small wave before he disappeared among the bookshelves. I sighed.

Jack Whitely, you are hopeless, I scolded myself, taking out a fresh sheet of paper from my desk. However, I had barely written anything by the time the man returned, carrying a heavy load of books. He placed them carefully on the counter.

“My name’s Tom,” he said as I began to ring up the books. “Tom Ridgeley.”

I could only nod in response, not daring to look up at that striking purple hair. “Jack Whitely.” I paused in my actions, suddenly remembering something he had said earlier.

“You’re car broke down, and you decided to stay? Why here? There are a thousand places nicer than Galen.”

Tom shrugged. “I graduated from college and wasn’t quite ready to move on. So, I decided to drive and stop wherever my car led me. It was really old, so I figured it wouldn’t get me very far.”

I snorted despite myself. “What an awful idea. You could’ve been stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

“Ah, but I’m not, am I?”

I could hardly keep the disdain out of my voice. “Believe me; you’ll come to wish you were.”

Tom arched his pierced eyebrow again, and I shivered. Before either of us could say anything, however, the phone rang.

“Come again,” I whispered to Tom, before I picked it up and Tom exited the building.

“Hello, Mr. Whitely. We need to have a talk.”

PLEASE GO TO THE LINK ABOVE FOR MORE. Thank you for your time, people!! You can leave comments at this post or a review at the actual story!!!

“Your Highness,” one of the guards saluted as he threw his prisoner at the cold marble floor. The boy grunted, but the guards ignored him.

“We found this beggar by the north gate, Prince Caldre. He insisted that he was brought to you.”

“So… you brought him in chains?” The Prince’s voice was as cold and harsh as winter.

The guards looked surprised. “B-But, your Highness, you told us you were not to be interrupted unless-”

“Unless someone asked for me. This man asked for me, did he not? Leave him here, you are excused.”

For a second, the guards made no move to leave. However, once faced with the Prince’s icy stare, they immediately turned on their heels and were gone within a second.

Prince Caldre stood up and drew his blue robes around himself. It was always cold for him- even in the heart of summer.

“Hello, my pretty spy. What news do you bring of the outside world?”

The boy looked up from the floor and smiled. “Nothing but times of peace. The world is as boring as it is here.”

Caldre sighed, but he longed to smile. Unfortunately, his curse did not give him the freedom of emotions.

“Aoidh…” The boy stood up at the sound of his name and walked toward Caldre.

“My Ice Prince, I have found it.” Caldre jumped slightly, reaching forward for Aoidh’s hands. The boy took them in his own, callous ones enthusiastically.

“We have done it then, Aoidh. You have done it.”

Aoidh kissed Caldre lightly on the lips. He had searched half his life for a way to break his lover’s curse, and now he had done it.

“It is in a land called Nimah. There were many legends about a dragon in the area that has the power to break any curse.” Aoidh smiled and kissed Caldre again. “My Ice Prince, I promise I will bring back this dragon, so it may free you. Never will you be cold again.”

If possible, Aoidh would say that Caldre looked thoughtful, though his face remained as expressionless as ever.

“Nimah… I have heard that name before. It is a desert country, no?”

Aoidh nodded. “Yes, my Ice Prince. I do believe it is.”

“In a desert… I may not be cold.” Aoidh dropped Caldre’s hands.

“My lord, no! It is far too dangerous to leave the castle. The witch who cursed you is still out there, but she does not know she failed to kill you. If she nearly succeeded once, there will be no stopping her a second time.”

Caldre took Aoidh’s hands again and kissed the fingertips. “So it is ‘my lord’ now. Have I fallen from your favor that quickly?”

Aoidh sighed and brushed away silken strands of jet black hair from Caldre’s forehead, bringing his lips to the other boy’s cheek.

“No, my Ice Prince. I was startled. I had a feeling you would ask to come, but…” Aoidh shook his head. “I cannot allow it.”

“Aoidh, may I remind you of our past? You were a strange boy, I was a young prince… the castle was buzzing with rumors. They angered you, did they not, my pretty spy?”

Aoidh growled in his throat. His poor Caldre did not need a treacherous court when he was already cursed. After Aoidh had protected Caldre from an assassin, Caldre had pledged his life to Aoidh. Back then, he had been nothing but a thief. The Ice Prince must have realized this, and he had made Aoidh his trusted friend and advisor despite how much it scandalized him.

Caldre continued to stroke Aoidh’s cheek absentmindedly. “My uncle will not stop until he gets the throne, dear one. I am not safe anywhere.”

“I will keep you safe.”

“Oh?” The prince sounded amused, although he was incapable of it. “And how will you do that when you are trudging through some god-forsaken desert, in a distant land?”

Aoidh stiffened at the logic. Only his Ice Prince could win against him so easily.

“Caldre… if I let you come, do you promise to behave?”

Aoidh could only imagine the smile that would stretch those pretty lips, but they remained set. “I promise I will behave.”

“Good,” Aoidh tugged at his lover’s long hair playfully, and smiling at the imagined flicker of joy that crossed the prince’s youthful features. “Because I do not know if I will.”


AGAIN: If this sounds good to you, please go to the link at the top for a continuation of it.

I'm sorry for doing this guys, but you'll see why when you realize exactly how long it is.

Thank you!

Title: Truth or Dare
Pairing: Bones/Chekov
Warning: SLASH! Also, it is extremely random.
Genre: Romance/Humor
Fandom: Star Trek

Bones rolled his eyes at the hyperactive boy in front of him.

“No,” he replied sternly. “Tell Kirk I am not patching him up from any more of his ridiculous adventures until he stops this nonsense.”

Chekov pouted slightly, but turned on his heel and walked back to the bridge of The Enterprise, where Spock and Kirk stood arguing over some minor thing or other. Whatever it was, they stopped when he entered the room.

“The Doctor does not wish to participate,” Chekov informed them in his heavy accent, returning to his station. Kirk put an arm out to stop him, and Chekov very nearly missed the odd look that flashed across Spock’s face.

“Tell the Doctor,” Kirk growled dangerously, “that he had better be down here in the next five seconds or he’ll be thrown off the ship.”

Chekov knew, for a fact, that Kirk would never do that, but he ran back as fast as he could to Bones’ station anyways.

“You are needed in the bridge right now!” He yelled out across the room at Bones. The Doctor turned around slowly, anger clear on his face.

“Darn it, I told Kirk…”

“And he said he would throw you off the ship if you did not come to him immediately!” Though Chekov was out of breath, he managed to get the words out without smothering them in his accent.

Bones smiled tautly, patting Chekov on the back. “Very well, let’s go see what Captain Kirk has in store for us.”

Chekov couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat when the Doctor removed his hand.

---

“No way.”

Kirk grinned maniacally at the two men. Well, man and boy. Bones still couldn’t get over the fact that Chekov was only seventeen.

“Yes. I am the Captain, and I say we are playing this. The crew needs to take a break, and this is as good enough way as any.”

He was drunk, Bones thought. Kirk could never be this insane if he were sober.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Kirk grinned childishly. “I assume most of you know how to play this game. I explained it to you earlier today, but in case you missed it, we are playing an old Earth game called Truth or Dare’. Any questions?”

No one raised their hands. Bones scowled deeply. He had heard of Truth or Dare before, but it was an old game, no one played it anymore. Well, no one except Kirk apparently.

Kirk spun in his captain’s chair to face Spock. “Truth or Dare, my friend?”

Spock’s face remained emotionless, but the Doctor could practically see him fuming underneath the surface.

“I believe Truth will be a safe enough descision to make,” Spock replied carefully.

“Hmm… do you secretly love me?” Kirk asked.

A vein throbbed in Spock’s temple. “No.”

“Okay then. Doctor, Truth or Dare?”

Bones jumped as his name was called. “W-What? Um… Truth?”

“Okay. Do you love Chekov? Tell the truth…” Kirk warned.

“I-I-I… no?”

“You’re ly~ing,” Kirk sang. Chekov glanced at them in amusement, and Bones frowned.

“Yes. I do love him. Happy now?”

He got up and left the bridge, leaving the remaining crew staring at him in astonishment.

---

“Doctor, wait up!” Chekov called. He ran towards the retreating figure of the Doctor, his heart beating quickly. Had he really meant what he said?

“Doctor, please. It’s Chekov!”

“I know who it is,” Bones replied, spinning on the back of his heel. He caught Chekov from running into him by the shoulders, and did not release his grip. Chekov smiled.

“Doctor, there’s something I need to do.”

Bones scowled. “Well, what is it? I’m not in the mood to talk right now.”

“No, no. No talking.”

Chekov pressed his lips to the Doctor’s hesitantly, smiling when he came back up for air. The Doctor’s cheeks were flushed a pretty red, and Chekov had no doubt that his cheeks were much the same color.

“Was that one of those stupid dares?” Bones asked quietly. Chekov nodded.

 
“‘Kiss the one you love the most’ was what Kirk said. And I did.”

Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: Somebody Told Me- The Killers

We might see more of these two at some point...

Meanwhile, happy mother's day!

Title: Housewarming Gift
Plot: Lee is getting a new neighbor. Unfortunately, his dog can't seem to behave.
Pairing: Lee/Kell
Warning: SLASH (boyxboy love)
Rating: K+, it's just a fluffy drabble
Genre: Romance/Humor

“Looks like we’re getting new neighbors, Brownie,” I said, eyeing the moving trucks across the street.

The dark brown lab barked, and I snorted. “Stupid dog, I can’t understand you. If you think I should make them something, you’re wrong. Housewarming gifts are for suckers.”

Brownie growled low, a sign that either she wanted to play or she needed to pee. Decisions, decisions. I finally hooked her onto her leash and dragged her onto the porch.

“Come on, girl. We’re going for a walk.”

The dog headed for the sidewalk in agreement. I had just relaxed my grip on the leash when she suddenly took off running. The leash slid out of my hand, leaving a stinging mark, as Brownie ran across the street towards the trucks.

“Brownie! You stupid mutt!” I called frantically, breaking off into a run myself. The stupid thing didn’t even look back, but ran straight for the yard. I cursed loudly and flung myself after her, grabbing for the black leash that was being dragged through the grass.

I had almost had it, too, when a hand reached down and snatched it from me. I scowled as I lay on the grass.

“This is your dog, I presume?”

Darn, that voice sounded snarky. I hate snarky neighbors. “Yes,” I ground out, “she’s mine, unfortunately.”

I was surprised when the voice giggled. Giggled. Funny, it hadn’t sounded like a female voice. Slowly, I got to my feet and looked at the owner of the voice.

I gaped quietly at the man in front of me. He had dark brown hair, but instead of neatly cut like mine it hung in curls around his face. His skin was pale, but it was a nice pale, like what you would see on a vampire.

I ran a hand self-consciously through my own red hair, wishing I hadn’t gone outside in my pajama bottoms.

The man handed the leash back to me, with Brownie attached. “I’m Kell, and you are…”

I snapped my mouth shut so quickly my teeth clacked together. “I’m Lee. Um… Lee Davidson. That’s Brownie. Uh, we live across the street.”

“I know. I saw you come out.”

“Oh.” I wanted to say more, but at the same time I was horribly embarrassed and wanted nothing more than to go home.

“Do you want some ice for that?”

I looked at Kell blankly. “For what?”

He smiled and curled a brown strand of hair around a finger. “Your hand. It looks a little sore.”

I winced as I was reminded of the stinging in my hand. “Th-That would be great.”

“All right, come inside.”

I followed him without protest into his house. It was styled much the same as mine was, minus the furnishings. I sat down on a lone kitchen chair as he dug around in a cooler for an ice pack.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as he pressed the ice to my palm. He smiled in return.

“S-So where did you move from?” I asked softly, trying to make conversation.

“Not from too far away. I moved out of an apartment me and my boyfriend used to share. Well, ex-boyfriend now.”

He suddenly blushed. “Oh! I-I mean, I hope your okay with, you know…”

I held up a hand and laughed. “It’s cool. I’d sort of be a hypocrite if I had anything against that kind of stuff, don’t you think?”

He nodded quietly, then pointed at my pants. “I kinda assumed that with pajamas like those…”

I smiled down at the rainbows. “Hey, I like these. A lot of people have commented on how sexy they make me.”

Kell laughed. “A lot of people? Like who?”

“You know… people.” I sniffled. “Stop rubbing it in that I have no life.”

“It’s okay. A lot of people don’t have lives nowadays.”

Childishly, I stuck my tongue out at him. To my surprise, and a little to my enjoyment, he captured it in his own mouth. I made some kind of noise between a squeak and a moan, before settling my arms around his shoulders. His arms moved to circle my waist.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that. At some point, it became hard to breathe, and we finally broke apart, but still remained in a close embrace.

“So… I hope you didn’t mind that,” Kell said softly, flushing. “It’s just, I think I like you. I know it must seem weird, since I’ve only known you for a few minutes… but…”

I shut him up with a quick kiss. “It’s okay, I think I like you too. I even think I could grow to love you. How about dinner?”

Kell blinked. “Um… Friday night?”

I picked up Brownie’s leash and dragged her up from the kitchen floor, where she had been laying comfortably. I waggled my fingers at Kell before reaching over to give him a light peck on the lips.

“Consider it a housewarming gift,” I said, chuckling. Kell smiled as well.

“It sure beats the other things the neighbors got me…”

Exiting the house, I jogged back to my own home, Brownie in tow.

“Well, that was interesting,” I observed, patting her head.

She looked mournfully across the street at Kell’s house. I bet that stupid dog liked it there or something.

But truthfully, I liked it there too.

Current Location: room
Current Mood: okay
Current Music: Ave Maria- Bach

Not that he wanted to rule a kingdom, nor did he want to raise some bratty kid. He hated kids. He did want love though. Didn’t everyone?

Luke headed for the garden- not the alchemist’s, though. Wicken scared him to death. Luke had hardly been here a week, and the Castle’s Alchemist seemed to hate him. Luke wasn’t unfamiliar with being hated, of course, but he hadn’t actually done anything to the man.

At least with all these balls Luke was too tired to actually cause trouble. Leo had made him promise to give up his devilish ways, at least for the week. Meanwhile, those ravenous women fawned after him, snagging him onto the dance floor at every chance they got. All of them looking for a husband… ha. Luke would love to rub it in their faces that he wasn’t into women, but Leo was already looking for a reason to lynch him.

The Royal garden was nice, and thankfully deserted. Moonlight shimmered on the dewy grass, and Luke slipped off his leather boots to save them from becoming damp. He reveled in the way the grass felt beneath his bare toes. When was the last time he had been barefoot and outside? Too long ago to remember.

Not that he was old, of course. Luke had heard countless people comment on his youth and good looks. But Luke hardly cared what other people thought. One of the reasons he had so willingly accepted Cass’s invitation to rule for a short time was that he hated his old court.

“What are you doing here?” A loud voice commanded. Luke shrieked and jumped back, landing on his behind.

“I- I- I was just coming from the ball!”

The man, for that was who the voice belonged to, helped Luke up to his feet. Now that he was up, Luke could get a better look. The man was huge- a good head taller than Luke and very muscular. Wavy black hair framed his tan face, and he wore little more than a pair of loose leggings and a large shirt. Even at just one glance, Luke could tell he was not a noble.

“What are you doing here?” Luke asked with as much authority as he could muster. For a second, he thought he saw a faint glimmer of white. Had the man smiled?

“I was on my way to my room when I thought I heard someone enter the garden.” There was another flash of white. “No one is supposed to be here, you know.”

Luke frowned and dusted himself off carefully. “No, I did not know that. I was sure that this was the Royal garden. Seeing as I am a Royal, I have every right to be here.”

There was no glimmer of white, to Luke’s dismay. “Lord Luke!” The startled man dropped to his knees. “Forgive me; I thought you were simply a stray noble.”

Luke scoffed. “Please, there is no need for that. I hate it when people grovel like that. In fact, I was rather enjoying your company until just now. Might I know your name?”

The man hesitated before slowly rising to his feet. Unfortunately, he still bowed. “Dolan, your Lordship. I am the Castle Blacksmith.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Really? I have heard many stories of your wonderful talents. They say you are magic.”

Dolan laughed. “No… that is not true.”

“Ah. A pity. I have always wanted to know someone magic.”

The man laughed again. “Forgive me, your lordship, but what is your age?”

“Twenty-two. Just a year over Leo. Why? What is yours?” Not that it mattered, because Luke was sure he would like this man even if he was double his age.

“It was just that you seemed so young for a second. I mean, traipsing around the garden barefoot like that.” Dolan trailed off. “As for my age, it’s probably twenty-five.”

“Probably?”

“I’m not really sure.”

Luke blinked in surprise. “Are you sure you are not a faerie? You seem like one.”

Dolan shook his head. “No, what makes you think that I am?”

“I’m not sure. This whole place seems so surreal.”

“Yeah, it does have that affect on a person. Everything seems more magical and romantic in a garden, though. Why don’t you sit down?” He led Luke over to a fountain that Luke hadn’t noticed. Rosebushes surrounded a little stone bench, and as they both sat down, Luke reached out to pick one. Dolan slapped his hand away.

“I wouldn’t touch those, if I were you. They’re sharp.”

Luke laughed bitterly. He hated to admit how nice it was to have someone show genuine concern for him. His mother would have barely spared him a glance had he cut himself on a rose, but Luke felt certain that Dolan would hold him and care for him and kiss-

Luke blushed. He shouldn’t be having those thoughts. Not about a man he had just met. But there was something about Dolan that was so hard to resist.

“Now,” Dolan started, shifting so he could get a good look at Luke. “Why don’t you start by telling me about yourself?”

---

They met every night. About a year passed, and still they would meet. Luke would run away from a ball or some other social event that was being held at night, take off his stuffy jacket and boots, and wait on the bench for Dolan. Sometimes the blacksmith would be there before him.

Luke told Dolan everything about his life. He told him about his neglectful mother, and how he had been instead raised by servants, and therefore knew a great deal of things that other nobles didn’t, like cooking. Dolan was surprised by this fact, and couldn’t stop laughing when he first heard it.

“It’s not that funny…” Luke had mumbled, punching Dolan softly in the arm.

In return, Dolan told Luke about his life as well. It wasn’t that spectacular: he had grown up in the nearby village and come to the castle after his father, also a blacksmith, had died. Everything Dolan knew about the being a blacksmith he had learned from his father.

Dolan had been right, though, when he said that the garden was magic. Every night spent with Dolan, Luke found it harder to keep away. When he finally realized what was happening, it was too late.

Luke was in love with Dolan.

---

Luke sat on the bench crying. The day had started out so normal: he had teased Wicken for a while, borrowed a book from Cass, and even had sparred for a little while with Leo. However, he found it strange that every time he turned a corner, people would stop talking and just look at him. It was a little more than unnerving.

It wasn’t until that evening’s ball that he realized why people had been giving him those weird looks. The minute he stepped into the hall, he knew something was wrong. It was then that he saw her.

His mother had not changed at all since the last time he had seen her. She still walked with her nose in the air, and her lips pinched tightly together.

Luke took one look at her before bolting for the door. He almost made it, too, had Leo not called out to him. The whole court paused in what they were doing and looked at him. Slowly, he made his way up to Leo and his mother.

Leo was not to blame, he reminded himself sharply. The King often seemed oblivious to all evils in the world, and there was no doubt that he saw nothing wrong with his aunt.

His mother regarded him coldly before drawing her fur wrap around herself. “Boy, I came to tell you that you are to be married. See that you are prepared by tomorrow.”

With that, she stalked away. Luke gasped for air, his thoughts scattering wildly. He looked from face to face- Leo looked shocked, Wicken looked sympathetic, Deb looked angry, Cass looked sad. Luke realized that all these people cared for him, and that they would be there for him.

But there was someone missing. Someone that cared more for Luke than all of them combined could.

That was the person that Luke would marry.

He almost didn’t make it to the doors before he started crying. That was how Dolan had found him on the bench- mourning his sorry excuse for a life and figuring out how he would tell Dolan that he was arranged to marry a stranger when all he really wanted to do was marry him.

“Luke?” Dolan’s strong voice called from the shadows. Luke sniffed as more tears rolled down his cheeks. They just wouldn’t stop.

“What’s the matter?” He placed an arm around Luke and held him for a few minutes before repeating his question.

“I saw my mother today.”

Dolan stiffened before pulling Luke closer, so that he was practically sitting on the blacksmith’s lap. Not that he minded.

“What did she say?”

Luke lifted his face to look at Dolan, and saw the same deep concern he had seen when Dolan had first warned him about the roses.

“I’m getting married.”

A look of utter defeat flashed across Dolan’s face, but before he could say anything Luke pressed his lips to Dolan’s.

The kiss was tender, but it was anything but tame. Neither had much experience in kissing, but somehow they managed to fill all their love and possessiveness into that one kiss. It left nothing to be said: both men clearly loved each other.

Dolan pulled out of the kiss slowly, face flushed and eyes sparkling. Luke was sure that he had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Are you going to get married?” Dolan asked softly after they had both caught their breaths.

“Yes,” Luke replied fiercely. “I’m going to get married to you. I don’t care what anyone says; I won’t stop fighting until I have you.”

Dolan looked at him carefully before laughing. “I pity whoever stands against you. What will you do about your mother?”

Luke frowned and kissed Dolan again. “Nothing. I will forget about her. Now that Leo is King, he has enough power to sign the disownment papers. I’ve had them ready for weeks now; I just haven’t gotten around to asking him to sign them.”

Dolan smiled. “Disownment papers? Where on earth did you get those?”

“Cass.”

Dolan’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, but Luke covered it with his lips before Dolan could say anything more.

“You never answered my question, you know.”

Dolan looked at him strangely. “Which one? Yes, I will marry you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Luke shook his head. “Not that one. I asked if you were magic, and you told me no. But you were lying. I mean, how else could I fall so deeply in love with one person unless they were magic?”

Dolan’s eyes sparkled. “Then I guess that would make you magic too.”

All further conversations were forgotten as Luke pulled Dolan in for another kiss.

“And that is how Gregory the VII conquered the neighboring kingdom, slaughtering thousands of innocents and disrupting the fragile government there. Any questions?”

Deb raised his hand thoughtfully, and Cass rolled his eyes. “Deb, you’re the only one here. There is no need for formality. What is your question?”

The blonde man lowered his hand and smiled. “How come there were so many ‘Gregory’s? And why were they all so violent?”

Cass sighed and closed the history book he had been holding, placing it on the wooden, polished desk he stood by. “‘Gregory’ was an important name in our kingdom’s past. It was considered an honor to be given such a name, and therefore people felt they needed to live up to it. That is how there came to be so many great rulers named Gregory. Of course, their tactics were controversial…”

“Controversial? That guy slaughtered almost half of a nation!”

“Deb, I realize that up to now you have been… sheltered…”

“I’ve been living with monks, Cass, not hermits. I know about cruelty. I’m just saying that the Prince would never-”

Cassidy gave a shuddering sigh and sank into a velvet chair. The room was lavishly decorated, for the Prince loved to spoil his personal tutor. Cassidy wasn’t quite so personal now, though, since Deb had come to join them.

“Sorry, Cass. I’ll go now.”

“Thank you, Deb.” He sensed, rather than saw, Deb get up from his chair and walk towards the door.

“You should tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“The same thing I told Wicken.”

Cass jumped up from the chair and spun to face Deb, his cheeks aflame. “Just what are you suggesting?”

Deb laughed and closed the door with a heavy thud. Cass winced at the sound and shuffled some parchments on his desk, his gaze falling on the silver platter that had held his breakfast.

Cassidy was not remarkable at all. He could never be like Wicken or Deb, or the Prince for that matter, who were all renowned for their beauty. No, his hair was dull and pale, just like his skin, and his eyes were soft and boring. Cass was often overlooked in the street, forgotten when he appeared in court, and never talked about except to be remarked on his intelligence. Or worse, on how unpleasant his skin color was.

Cass had seen the alchemists. They were pale, but they glowed with a red flush they acquired from working near open fires. Everyone else in this kingdom was tan or brown from the work they did outside. But Cass was a sickly white color. He never went outside, but remained in his study or classroom, and the closest to a fire he had ever been were the candles he worked by at night. His paleness was often marred by an ink smudge or too, which only worsened his appearance.

Yes, Cassidy liked to think of himself as ugly.

“Admiring your looks?”

Cassidy jumped, and the silver platter went crashing to the floor.

“Relax, it’s only me.” In the doorway stood one of Cass’s oldest friends, the blacksmith Dolan. He smiled in greeting.

“You scared me,” Cass pointed out, stooping to pick up the fallen platter.

“Were you expecting your Prince?”

Despite his desperate attempts, Cass flushed as red as a tavern maid. He scowled. “I wish everyone would stop talking about Prince Leopold like he wasn’t…”

“Around? I completely agree.” Cass started at the new voice. The Prince stood casually in the doorway, his auburn hair glowing in the sunlight that spilled from the small window in the hall behind him. His build almost blocked the door; he was much taller than Cass could ever hope to be, although he was a few years younger.

“Leopold! I-”

“So now you’re calling me by my full name? Are you angry with me?” The Prince tucked an auburn strand of hair behind his ear. “Honestly Cass, if this is about teaching Deb, it’s only until he’s old enough. As it is, he’s almost as old as you already. In fact, he’s the same age as me.”

“No, he’s a year older.”

“Pah, what’s a year between friends.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.” Cass glanced nervously at the door and saw that Dolan had left.

“Fine, Cass. I just came to say that it’s been growing incredibly dull around here now that Wicken has left me for some monk.”

“First, Deb is not a monk, and second, you were never real friends with Wicken.”

“True. I much preferred your company.”

Leo approached Cassidy slowly and tugged at a pale curl.

“Prince.” Cass protested sharply.

“No, Leo,” he corrected. Cass shook his head and pulled back.

“I’ve been thinking, Leo,” he stressed the name, “that…”

“Yes?”

Cass turned away and began to shuffle papers again. “It’s time you got married.”

A heavy silence reigned in the room. When Leo finally spoke, he was quiet.

“What?”

“The kingdom needs heirs, Leo. The people are waiting for you to get married. They want to see their Prince happy.”

“I’m happy with the way things are now, though!”

Cass sank into the velvet chair again, reveling in its comfort. Everything ached. It was hard enough to make this decision without the Prince’s protests.

“I am sorry, my Prince,” he said calmly, leveling his gaze to look anywhere but straight ahead. “You are required by law to marry.”

“Then I’ll marry you!” The outburst was sudden, and silence fell again. Cass gaped at the Prince.

“Leo...” Cassidy choked on the words. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I would marry you.” His gaze was fierce and unwavering, and the tutor looked away, ashamed.

“You are required by law to marry someone who can give you heirs.”

“But I want you!” The Prince strode forward and pulled Cass off the chair. “Cassidy, I love you. I have for years. And I know you want me too.”

Cassidy suddenly realized that it was very hard to talk when the Prince was staring you in the face. So, he did the most irrational thing he could think of.

He kissed Leo.

---

Cassidy felt as though something had been ripped out of his chest. He watched the coach rumble out of the castle gates and into the world beyond it, carrying the one thing he had truly cared about besides books.

Leo was gone now, headed for the neighboring kingdom, where he would marry their princess and father an heir.

Cassidy choked out a sob as the coach traveled out of sight, turning away from the dusty road.

“What have I done?” He wailed, hiding his tears as he ran for the safety of his room.

Once there, he buried himself into the coarse sheets that covered his bed. They smelled faintly of Leo, who of course had insisted on spending the night with Cassidy.

Cass had known it would be their last night together, but the Prince had not. At the first light of dawn, Cass had ordered Leo to be loaded into the coach with his belongings. Leo was still asleep, and would probably not wake until they were far past the borders. Then he would forget Cass ever existed and live happily ever after, coming back to his castle to rule to find that his old tutor was long gone. That was the plan.

If only things ever went according to plan.

---

“You are an idiot.”

“Deb!” Cass heard the alchemist shout. Up close, he could see why Wicken was so renowned for his beauty. Of course, nothing could compare to Leo…

But no, he scolded himself. I must get these thoughts out of my head.

It had been a week since Leo had left. Cass had called in one of his cousins to rule the kingdom temporarily; a nice young man who was rather eccentric, much like the Prince.

“It was all I could do. I panicked. I mean, he said he loved me. He was clearly trying to stall the marriage,” Cass explained. He had just told them the truth about that night with Leo.

Deb was shaking his head. “People are capable of love, Cass.”

The tutor scoffed. “But he said he loved me. Clearly he was lying. Nobody like him could love somebody like me.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Cass’s heart stopped. Slowly, carefully, as to not trip over his robes, he turned toward the voice.

Sure enough, blocking the doorway was Leo.

“No-”

“How could you get rid of me, Cass?”

Wicken smirked and took his lover’s hand. “Well, we’d better get going, Deb.”

Cassidy looked at them with a stunned expression, as if begging them not to leave, but they snuck out the door anyway, closing it with an ominous locking sound. Cass gulped.

“Leo…” He started, again choking on his words. Why was it so hard to talk around the Prince?

Cass was silenced by a soft finger against his lips. “I thought you loved me, Cass. I was so sure you did.”

There were unshed tears in the Prince’s voice.

“I do love you.”

The finger was replaced by a pair of equally soft, warm lips. Cass sighed softly when they were withdrawn and only air replaced them.

“The Princess would give you heirs. I cannot,” Cass started. “The union would bring our kingdoms together, and you could return once I was in another kingdom. That way you could forget about me.”

“I would never forget about you.”

Cassidy buried himself in the warm fabric of Leo’s tunic. “You shouldn’t have left. The Princess could have declared war.”

“I had to get back to you before you did something stupid. Besides, everything worked out in the end.”

“What do you mean?” Cass worked his fingers under Leo’s shirt, shuddering when the Prince did the same to him.

“The Princess already had a lover. He’s a pretty nice guy. They felt bad for canceling our marriage, even though I assured them I was okay with it, and promised me one of their children to have as my heir.”

“A good plan,” Cass mumbled before attaching his lips to Leo’s neck, feeling the other man’s fingers wrap themselves around his short, pale curls.

“I agreed,” Leo continued, “and came back here as soon as I could. I needed to know that you still loved me.”

Cass hesitated and walked across the room to the big velvet chair. It felt like everything big always happened when he was on that chair. He sat down, and Leo followed.

“Continue.”

Leo nodded and knelt in front of him. “Cassidy, I love you. I always have, and I know you love me too. So just marry me already.”

Cass smiled and pressed his lips to Leo’s temple. “Well, when you put it that way, of course I will.”

Current Mood: cold
Current Music: Opus- Chopin

“Get up, you lazy brat!”

Wicken opened his eyes carefully, slinging his arm over his face to shield himself from both the sunlight and any blows his master might throw at him.

“Hurry now,” his master’s harsh voice bellowed again. “I need you to go to the garden and gather monkshood for me.”

Wicken scowled slightly. He hated picking monkshood. It was usually used as anesthetic because when applied to the skin, it would cause a numbing sensation. Wicken could hardly feel his fingers until the next day after picking it.

“Be quick about it, too, or there’ll be no breakfast for you.” With that last dreaded note, the wooden door to Wicken’s tower room slammed shut.

Already protesting the prospect of work on so little food, Wicken’s stomach growled ominously. His scowl deepened as he reached under his straw pallet for a small hand mirror that had once belonged to his father. Gazing in it deeply, Wicken smiled softly at his reflection. It was that of his father’s: everything from the ink black hair to his soft green eyes. The only feature Wicken disliked immensely were the light freckles that peppered his cheeks.

After tucking the mirror back where his master wouldn’t find it, Wicken hurried down to the castle garden. It was directly beneath his small tower, which also housed a few other apprentices to the grouchy alchemist, and therefore it did not take long for him to reach it.

Wicken was good at being an alchemist’s apprentice. He loved to experiment with various plants, powders, and potions. He had long since decided not to let anything Bane, the castle’s alchemist and his master, say anything that would cause him to leave. Wicken had learned to block out all insults and curses thrown at him, and listen only to orders.

Crouching down on his knees and placing a straw basket beside him, Wicken cautiously touched one of the yellow flowers. Sure enough, his fingers began to tingle. Wicken shook his head and plucked the flower from its stem. He would come back for the roots when he had time to get something to cover his hands, because the roots were a source of poison.

“Stop!”

Wicken started at the cry and turned to the voice. The next thing he knew, he was laying face-down on the ground with something very heavy on top of him.

“Are you crazy?” A voice from above said, or rather, shouted. “That plant is poisonous!”

Wicken grunted angrily, trying to wriggle out from underneath whatever was on him. “I know that, you simpleton. I at least have enough sense to know when something is poisonous. I am an alchemist’s apprentice, you know.”

The weight immediately shifted, and Wicken dragged himself out. “You are? So you’re the one I’ve been looking for?”

Wicken stood up with his back still to the voice and dusted his tunic. “Yes, I suppose I am. Unless you’d rather talk to the other idiots I work with, though I don’t recommend it.”

To his surprise, Wicken heard a small tinkling laugh. He spun around on his heel to face a man not much older than him. The man had shimmering gold hair… gold. Wicken was struck dumb. Never had he seen so much beauty in one person. The gold framed the man’s pale face, though his complexion was much healthier than Wicken’s, who spent most of his time in the alchemist’s lab. A white robe was all the man wore, and Wicken’s heart sank. It was the robe of a monk.

“I-I’m Wicken, the head alchemist’s apprentice.”

The man gave another tinkling laugh. “I’m Deb. Sorry for tackling you, but I couldn’t have an innocent’s life on my mark.”

Wicken nodded sullenly. “I guess that makes sense and all, being a monk…”

Deb cocked his head and arched a golden eyebrow. “A monk?” He looked down at his clothing when Wicken pointed at it, and let out another laugh.

“Oh, I’m just studying with the monks. I doubt I could ever be one, if they even accepted me.” Deb gave a sly wink.

“Oh. What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all. Our monastery burned down recently, and the Prince offered us protection at his castle until we could rebuild. He’s a very kind man.”

Wicken smiled, his muscles tightening at the unusual expression. It was his first genuine smile in a while. “Yes the Prince is rather… eccentric.”

Deb laughed again. Wicken usually didn’t like people who found everything funny, but the trait was endearing on Deb. “He did seem rather odd when I spoke with him. I just accepted it as the folly of youth. You sound like you know him rather well, though.”

“Yes, he was- is- my only friend here. I simply cannot stand the others.” Wicken growled softly deep in his throat. The other apprentices, anyone his age really, annoyed Wicken to death. The Prince was an odd exception to Wicken’s temper.

Deb looked even more amused by this comment. “Only friend, hmm? Well, I hope I can be added to that short list with time.”

He bid farewell to Wicken and strolled off in the direction he had come, leaving the alchemist’s apprentice to ponder the statement before returning to work. It wasn’t until a while later that Wicken remembered that Deb had been looking for him to ask him something.

---

The castle alchemist was a toughened old man named Bane. Although in his forties, Bane was still strong enough to give any idle apprentice a sound beating. This had earned him a feared reputation around the castle, but he was good at his job.

He was even better with Wicken to help him. Everyone knew Wicken by his good looks, talent, and most noticeable- his temper. He had been the only one to stand up to the old King and actually live, although he had suffered at least a year in prison for it. Once the King died, however, the Prince had set Wicken free happily. They had been friends, or the thing closest to the definition of ‘friends’, ever since.

Now Wicken had a new ‘friend’, however. He had accepted Deb’s invitation at friendship and was becoming increasingly happier. He smiled more often, was less strict with the other apprentices, and even perfected some of the potions he had been working on for years. Everyone noticed the change, and began to wonder what, or who, had caused it.

Wicken slunk to bed hungry one night, months after his first meeting with Deb. He had been beaten harshly after defending one of the younger apprentices who had accidentally misplaced a minor potion that could easily be replaced. Master Bane had been seething with anger, though, and Wicken couldn’t help but stop him from beating the poor boy half to death. Unfortunately, the plan backfired, and Master Bane turned his fury on Wicken.

In the morning, Wicken found it rather hard to keep his balance as he walked down the stairs. He had been up all night struggling with his feelings for Deb, and really did not want to see the blonde again. He just didn’t know how to act around him. Wicken was attracted to everything about Deb, and during their morning meetings Wicken was falling even more in love with the man. Unfortunately, Deb had turned out to be a noble.

Shaking his head as he tumbled once more down the stairs, Wicken let out a shaky sigh. He shouldn’t even be entertaining thoughts about Deb. Even if the blonde beauty wasn’t a monk, he was still greater in station than he was. Wicken could never gain enough title to be with someone like that, even in his dreams.

“Hello, Wicken. What’s wrong? You look dreadful.”

Wicken narrowed his eyes at the comment and flushed. It was just as he had thought- Deb was already having second thoughts.

A laugh interrupted his thoughts, however. “I didn’t mean to make you angry, or insult you. I simply meant that you look a little sick. Are you alright?”

Wicken smiled at the apology. “I’m alright. Just a little hungry.”

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

Wicken let out a harsh laugh. That was the most concern he had ever heard anyone have for him, besides the Prince. It made him feel nice inside.

“You obviously don’t know how an apprenticeship works. My master decides when I eat, and he hasn’t spoken with me since yesterday morning.”

Something unrecognizable flashed in Deb’s eyes, which were a faint blue. “So you haven’t eaten? For how long?”

Wicken did a quick calculation on his fingers. “Three days ago, I had a bowl of porridge. The morning after that I had a small loaf of bread and a pint of water. Since then, I’ve had nothing.”

Deb approached Wicken in three long strides. He placed his hand on Wicken’s forehead, pulling it away sharply.

“You’re burning up.”

Wicken shook his head, noticing for the first time how much taller Deb was than him. “It is nothing, only a potion.”

“What?”

“A potion. Alchemists work in harsh conditions, near open fires, and so they drink a certain potion that makes them almost fire-proof. Unfortunately it also makes the drinker very warm to the touch, giving the impression that he is sick.”

Deb looked confused for a moment, but shook it away. He reached for Wicken’s hand, saying, “Let’s go find you something to eat.”

Wicken pulled back sharply. “I can’t! My master is the only one that can give me permission to eat.”

“Any master that would have you starve is not worth obeying. Can you not see he is making you sick?” Deb looked hurt.

“I-I can’t disobey him. He…”

Deb shook his head slowly, gold spilling onto his cheeks. “I have heard stories about Master Bane.”

Wicken lowered his head. “What do they tell of?” It was hard to keep his voice from shaking.

“He is a feared man. He abuses his apprentices. He…” Deb reached for Wicken’s face, placing a cool palm on his cheek. “He would not be half the alchemist he is without the help of one person.”

“All true, except for the last one.”

Deb smiled softly, willing Wicken to look at him. “I do not believe that. I think it is very true.”

Their lips met halfway. Wicken almost pulled back, but Deb wrapped his arms around him and made escape impossible. Anyways, he hardly wanted to break the kiss. This beat anything he had ever dreamed of.

They stopped only when air became a necessity. Wicken doubled over, the sharp intakes of breath making his stomach hurt.

Suddenly, he found himself being carried by Deb.

“W-What are you doing?” He half shouted, clutching tightly to the front of Deb’s robe. He heard the other man snicker.

“Getting you something to eat. And I won’t have any objections. If you’re to be my lover, I can’t just let you starve to death.”

Wicken blushed sharply at the statement. “Lover? You mean…”

Deb leaned in to peck his nose. “Yes, Wicken. I love you. Do you love me?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then you are mine from now, not Bane’s. I will not stand for anyone having you but me.”

Wicken tried to grasp the words. “I can’t leave alchemy though- I love it! It’s all I’ve ever known!”

Deb smiled thoughtfully. “I never said anything about you leaving, but I do expect that there will be an opening for castle alchemist once the Prince hears that the stories about Bane are not just stories. Meanwhile, I suppose I should find a new place to continue my schooling. I hear the castle does have an excellent tutor.”

Wicken listened to these plans with his heart beating out of his chest. This could hardly be true. “Why?” He croaked out.

Deb stopped walking and set Wicken on a bench somewhere by the fountain. Wicken noticed that they were in the part of the garden where only the nobles went.

“Why what?”

“Why do you love me?”

Deb arched an eyebrow. “Why do you love me?”

Wicken frowned. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve only known you for a while, but I like our talks. I like how you know what’s wrong with me, even if I don’t tell you anything. I like that you care, and that you are genuine in affection.” He blushed. “You don’t treat me like I’m far below you, even though I am. I can hardly call myself worthy for you.”

Deb laughed and sat down next to Wicken, brushing back any stray hair that escaped from the long braid he wove his golden locks into. “I love you because you’re you, Wicken. I would love you regardless of station. I’ve enjoyed our talks to, and that’s why I can’t stand to see you suffer anymore.”

Wicken smiled and pressed his forehead to Deb’s. “I’m hungry now.”

Deb gave him another lingering kiss before scooping him off the bench.

“Then let’s go eat together.”

Current Mood: thirsty
Current Music: Feel Good Inc.- Gorillaz

“Smoking is bad for you.”

Sirius turned toward the voice and smiled, grinding the cigarette into the pavement beside him.

“Says you. It’s only a Muggle invention, how harmful can something made by them be?”

Remus sat down and counted off on his fingers. “Let’s see… first, it can cause all kinds of cancer and diseases.”

Sirius shrugged.

“It can give you bad breath, yellow teeth, greasy hair…” Remus smirked as Sirius shivered at that. One more ought to do him in, he thought.

“Did I mention it can also weaken your erection?”

Remus laughed as Sirius jumped up and threw down the pack of cigarettes. “Muggles are insane!” He shouted as he jumped up and down on them.

A few passersby gave him strange looks when he threw himself at Remus.

“My savior! I’ll never be mean to you again! I love you!”