The pleasant, calming aroma of the bath oil filled his nostrils as he gently scrubbed his arms. It smelled of rosemary and peppermint, the scents he associated characteristically with wintertime. Spending last night alone had been much harder than he thought it would be, but after Father’s interrogation, and Philip’s strange, glaring silence towards him at family dinner, he figured it’d be best to not raise any suspicion for a day.
Sleep had not come to him easily. Barely, would be a more accurate description. And when he did manage to sleep, his dreams were plagued with old, familiar nightmares. After dinner tonight, he’d slipped out to the estate and ended up taking a long nap on the daybed with Percy, content to let the repetitive scribbling of charcoal and the steady breathing movements of his stomach lull him to sleep as he rested his head in his lap.
But when he’d awoken, the shift in the air was blatant. It wasn’t long before they had relieved each other of their clothes and made love in the bedroom. He very quickly realized it was something that threatened to become addicting. When they were tangled in each other, his brain was quiet. He was finally able to just exist, not constantly dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. All of those incessant, irrational thoughts that took up too much space in his head seemed to disappear, the vacancy being filled by a singular sentiment.
I am loved.
It was an addiction he didn’t mind developing.
Muffled footsteps padded up the stairs as the bedroom door softly opened, and he leaned around the edge of the tub to see Percy carrying a wooden cutting board. His dark brown hair was damp, but parts of it were beginning to turn into loose, frizzy curls as it dried. A loving grin spread across his lips as he spotted the assortment of cheeses and fruits arranged neatly on top of it, along with a bottle of uncorked wine and a small paring knife in his other hand. He placed the items down carefully on the nightstand before making his way into the washroom, kneeling behind the tub. His strong hands wrapped over top of his shoulders and began to knead away any remaining tension.
“How’s your bath?” he asked sweetly, his voice warm and low as he pressed a soft kiss to his neck.
“Good, I’m almost done, sorry,” he murmured back shyly.
“Take your time, love, we’ve got all night. Don’t rush on my account.”
He breathed deeply and let his head fall back against Percy’s chest, closing his eyes. “So Benjamin’s been officially kicked from the council.”
“That’s wonderful news. I won’t have to look at his weasley little face every meeting,” he stated playfully, slowly peppering kisses down his neck and onto his shoulder.
“Mm, but that means someone has to fill it. And, well… guess who my father appointed.”
“Oh, I’m not sure, I don’t know hardly any of the noblemen around here,” he mumbled dismissively, his strong fingers expertly working out the knots buried in his muscles.
“Me.”
His hands halted. “Did you ask for it?”
“No, but Father said it was about time I started making real contributions to the kingdom, so he saw it as the perfect opportunity. And I also think he just wants to be able to keep a tighter rein on me…”
“Whatever his ulterior motives are, this is still amazing Aryn. You’ve been wanting to help instill change, and now we can truly do it beside each other. And with an official authority position on the council, it’ll be all that much harder for your father to dismiss you.”
He turned to face Percy, his brow furrowed slightly in anxious worry. “But what if he’s doing it just to prove I don’t have what it takes to help rule? What if I get in there and embarrass myself–”
“You won’t,” he stated confidently, his tone so sure it settled the bubbling panic within his chest. He caringly tucked a dampened piece of ashen hair behind his ear. “You are wise, and intelligent, and empathetic. And in my opinion, that’s the perfect recipe for a great ruler. Truth be told, I think your father is starting to have more faith in you. Most of the men on the council are more like spoiled brats, and I can tell he’s been dying to find someone worth his time to fill a seat on it.”
He couldn’t deny Percy’s logic. The tightness that had begun to form in his chest slowly started to dissipate, even more so when his strong hands went back to work on his shoulders. But eventually the bathwater turned lukewarm, and he forced himself to leave its weightless confines. Drying off, he slipped on a loose pair of linen pants and a similarly fitting sweater, a shy smile finding its way onto his face as he caught sight of the food spread Percy had made.
“This is fancy,” he quipped, settling onto the bed and sitting cross-legged. “We could have just raided the kitchen like goblins.”
Percy’s lips curved upward playfully as he grabbed the wooden board and knife and climbed onto the bed as well. “I know, but this just seemed like a fun idea, something to keep us busy that we can talk over.”
He snatched a grape off its stem. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Well, I realized we don’t know a whole lot about our childhoods. I feel like there’s always a lot of insight to be gained about how someone was growing up.”
Percy took a sip of wine straight from the bottle, and he couldn’t help but snort and shake his head.
“I mean, my childhood wasn’t too terribly different from how my life is now. Except for, well, this.”
“I wanted to know about your mum.”
A heavy silence filled the room for a moment as his blue eyes flicked up to connect with green. The contact was sustained for only a second before he glanced down at the array of fruits and cheeses again, his stare growing distant.
“Well, she was uh… an amazing woman. Since Philip was the firstborn son, naturally my father took over his rearing, so when I came into the world, my mum knew she would be able to have me mostly to herself.”
Percy swiped a block of cheese from the board, cutting off a piece and chewing on it thoughtfully. “What did she look like? I mean, obviously there were paintings people saw, but I don’t feel like those tend to do it justice.”
“Like me,” he stated with a soft, pensive smile. “I was practically a little mini replica of her. She had snowy blonde hair, soft blue eyes, like a lake in the winter. And her face was always so kind, just peacefully beautiful. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why my father can’t stand to look at me at times, because it reminds him of her.”
He saw as Percy’s face shifted, becoming more solemn. His calloused hand came to rest on his thigh, thumb brushing over the inside of it comfortingly.
“What was she like, her personality?”
“She was the kindest person I’d ever known. But underneath it there was this fire I would only see when she talked to me. It came out whenever I’d tell her about how the other boys were treating me, or something Father had said to me, whenever I began to doubt myself. Sometimes, in secret, she would tell me that she’d have dreams of me sitting on the throne. And when I told her I didn’t want to, she’d say, ‘and that’s exactly why you will.’ I thought it was because she simply liked me more than Philip, but she loved him just as endlessly.”
He took a deep breath and snatched a date from the cutting board, his chest beginning to feel tight as he reached a hand out in silent demand for the wine bottle.
“Did she teach you how to play the harp?” Percy asked, lightening the topic slightly.
The corner of his lips twitched upward slightly. “Yes, she was so musically talented. She could sing, too. And she wrote poetry. She adored dancing. Art was never her strong suit though. She also loved to garden; she planted most of the flowers that are in the courtyard, actually. Father was mortified when he’d come out there to find her in a simple shift and wool overdress just covered from head to toe in dirt.”
Soft, airy chuckles escaped their chests as he caught Percy smiling warmly at him. Clearing his throat, he picked out a piece of cheese. “So what was your childhood like?”
“Well,” he started, taking a swig of wine. “I’m also the younger of two brothers, so expectation wise, it was pretty similar. Jory gets the business when my pa gets too old to work. I suspected Mum always wanted a daughter, so it was always moments of my dad getting upset when he caught her teaching me to cook or sew–”
“You know how to sew, too?” he butted in, eyebrows raised. “And I thought I was supposed to be the girly one,” he teased.
Percy’s grip on his thigh tightened, which sent his stomach tumbling as images from not even an hour ago reentered his mind.
“You are when you’re pinned to the bed moaning my name.”
His skin immediately flushed hot, and the hand on his leg now sent fire coursing through him. But he locked eyes with Percy and gave him a cautionary glance.
“Do not get that started again,” he warned playfully, the threat falling flat as his voice faltered with the way Percy was staring at him, like a lion about to devour its prey.
“Then don’t go throwing false accusations around, or I will have to prove them wrong. Vigorously and relentlessly.”
He thought his body had had enough, but the subtle throbbing that had started up below his waist said otherwise.
“Are you trying to bed me again so I’ll pass out and you can have all the food and wine to yourself?” he accused teasingly. “Because it’s not going to work. I’m far too hungry,” he concluded before popping another grape into his mouth.
A devious smile made its way onto Percy’s lips as he took another sip of wine. “Well you were quite hungry for something else earlier–”
“Would you stop?” he laughed. “I’d like to continue discussing far less inappropriate topics, thank you.”
“Alright, fine,” he conceded, a more warm smile now occupying his tan face. “What were we talking about again?”
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“Oh my God, I’m going to stab you,” he declared exasperatedly.
Percy laughed heartily, leaning forward and pressing a quick, endearing kiss to his lips. “You’re so adorable when you’re mad. But yes, I know how to sew. I learned a lot of things so I could help Ma out. She’s the only woman in the household, and taking care of three boys is a lot to ask. I guess since I knew I wouldn’t be getting the family business, I made our family my business instead.”
A deep, encompassing warmth spread within his chest. “Percy, that's beautiful. I love that.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, chewing on a grape.
“I suppose. I hadn’t thought much of it before. But I wasn’t always a perfect son,” he mentioned with a mischievous smile. “I was, well am, exceedingly stubborn. I can’t remember how many times I got the belt because I ended up in fights or causing some sort of trouble. Although in my defense, it was always with noble intentions. He still had to punish me for posterity’s sake, but Pa always told me never to start a fight, but make sure you finish it.”
“And did you?”
A boyish smirk made its way onto Percy’s face as he cut off another piece of cheese. “Every time.”
He rolled his eyes with a chuckle, shaking his head before going in for another piece of food. They wasted away most of the night talking, although it was mostly him listening to Percy tell stories about his upbringing. He himself had shared a couple details, but they always ended with him growing sad and distant, so eventually he was perfectly content to let his lover ramble on about his much happier memories. He suspected Percy noticed, too, and that’s why he had simply stopped asking questions and just talked.
It was refreshing hearing about how close he and Jory were. Whether they had been working in the forge together, playing in the springs during the summer, or causing mischief side-by-side, they seemed pretty inseparable. He hoped one day to finally meet him, once the war was over.
As he watched Percy talk, his chest began to feel full. He didn’t know how he had gotten so undeservingly lucky. Sure, the young man was, in every capacity of the word, excruciatingly handsome. But aside from their first initial glance, it wasn’t his looks he had fallen for. It was exactly this. The way he cared so much, for everything in his life. How utterly selfless and humble he was. The way he loved him… like he was the only thing in the entire world that existed, like he had been put on this earth just for him.
Eventually the night grew late, and they settled down to go to sleep. But as he lay facing Percy, taking in his brilliant green eyes and warm, handsome face, he couldn’t help but hold onto the evening a little longer, softly touching and kissing him. Finally he began to drift from consciousness, his head resting on his broad chest, as Percy drew lazy circles into his back. In that moment, he prayed things would never changed.
***
His fingers strummed along the delicate strings of the harp with painstaking care, plucking a soft, if not solemn melody from the instrument. The constant drip of melting ice could be heard outside the castle window, a sign of the arrival of spring. In the warm light of the large study, he continued to play, getting lost in the notes and the emotions he was transferring through the song.
“You really should try playing in front of people,” she insisted gently, her voice quiet and weak. “It’s quite a gift you have, darling.”
A small, sad smile found its way to his lips as he kept his blue eyes locked on the strings. “You know I don’t like to perform, Mother.”
“You don’t like to perform for strangers, Aryn. But–”
A series of coughs racked her body, and his gaze shot over to her, dread welling up within his chest. She was lounging on her daybed, one of the only places she could get comfortable anymore. The vibrant sunlight washed in through the window and bathed her in a soft, golden light, accentuating the blood that now spattered her handkerchief. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from it.
“But you love to perform for me. Someday you’ll do the same for another person you love.”
His fingers had stilled on the harp now. “Why doesn’t Father hardly come to visit you anymore?”
“Because I’m sick, darling–”
“I know but… it isn’t catching. It’s been far too long for that to be the case. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t want to see you. Same goes for Philip.”
“Your brother is very busy, Aryn. It’s tough work trying to find the future Queen of Westgarde–”
“Stop.”
She finally turned to face him, her similar blue eyes dull and full of fatigue. “Darling… I am not getting better–”
“You don’t know that,” he denied stubbornly, his voice constricting in his throat as tears threatened in his eyes. “Maester Byron told me there’s still a way to help–”
“My love, he would only be able to remove the disease, but it would assuredly kill me quicker. He and I have already discussed this. I now simply wish to bide my time, spend it with my family.”
“And where is our family?” he snapped angrily, a tear cascading down his cheek.
Her expression softened. “Right here.”
The words cut through him like a knife. His lip began to tremble as tears coated his cheeks, and his mother sighed heavily.
“Oh, my darling boy, come here,” she asked softly, reaching a hand out to him.
He rose from his stool and strode over to her, coming to rest on his knees beside the daybed as she grasped his hand weakly. The other came to cup his face, her slender thumb brushing away the tears.
“I need you to be strong for me. This kingdom needs you to be strong.”
“But I’m not. Not like Philip, or Father is,” he murmured shamefully.
“I do not want you to be strong like them. You possess a different strength, the kind that can weather any storm, calm a raging sea. It is the kind of strength that unites kingdoms. The strength your father possesses… it only ends up destroying them.”
“But I don’t care about all that. I wasn’t made for it. All I care about is you, our family,” he argued, squeezing her hand tighter.
“My heart, you were made for so much more than just that heavy crown. Trust in that. But I need you to wake up now.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“You need to wake up.”
Horror enveloped him as a waterfall of blood began to pour from her mouth, soaking into his clothes.
He bolted awake with a gasp, unable to catch his breath. Percy was still dead asleep next to him, his muscular arm slung behind his head as his chest moved up and down slowly. His own neck was covered in a cold sweat, and he slowly sat up in an attempt to stop his head from swimming.
A dark figure stood frozen in the doorway, and his heart began to race. Was he still dreaming? Was this the same figure that seemed to invade his nightmares, paralyzing him? Only now he wasn’t stuck to the bed, unable to move. Time seemed to freeze as he stared at the human shape. His chest heaving, something deeply primal inside of him forced his hand to move ever so slowly towards the nightstand, directed towards the paring knife.
The figure suddenly bolted in his direction, and he barely had enough time to snatch the knife before it made it across the bedroom. It lunged for him, but he threw himself from the bed, landing harshly on the wooden floor. As the figure attempted to jump off the featherbed, he scrambled clumsily to his feet, but cold hands grabbed at him. Terror welled up inside his throat.
“PERCY!” he screamed, desperately throwing his hand back and praying it would land.
His breath burned in his chest as he attempted to bolt for the door, but unnaturally strong fingers tangled in his hair and yanked him back with excruciatingly painful force. Crying out in rageful fear, he blindly swung his hand back, trying to catch something, anything, with the knife. But another hand snatched his wrist and slammed it into the wall, knocking the blade from his grasp. Icy dread ran through his veins as he saw another flash of cold steel.
He stumbled backwards as suddenly the figure was torn from him, and he turned as Percy and the man went tumbling to the floor. A ringing began to invade his ears, the sounds of the fight becoming muffled as he fell back against the wall, attempting to orient himself once more.
Percy’s fist connected savagely with the man’s shadowed face, but their positions quickly flipped as the figure pummeled him brutally in the stomach. Yelling out with primal rage, Percy thrashed and kicked as the man attempted to pin him to the floor. His heart stopped as steel flashed in the man’s grip, but Percy reached his hands up just in time to stop the dagger’s momentum.
The knife.
He turned and searched the floor wildly, finally laying eyes on the paring knife that had skittered across the wood. Grasping it in his left hand, he stumbled over towards Percy, who was starting to fail to keep the dagger at bay. It was inches from his chest, and he roared in pure defiance with gritted teeth as he attempted to muster any more strength.
But the man froze as he plunged the paring knife into the side of his neck.
He watched as Percy’s eyes went wide, still maintaining his opposing grip on the man with the dagger positioned over his heart. Without thinking, he wrenched the knife from his throat, and a gush of blood spurted from his neck, coating his palm. The man’s hand came up numbly to cover the fatal wound, and before he could react, he spun and slashed his dagger across his chest. It tore open his sweater, and an intense burning seared across his skin as he cried out, jumping back.
Amidst his confused panic, he just barely caught the look of pure rage on Percy’s face, and he stumbled back into the wall as Percy pried the dagger from the man’s hand and stabbed him. The figure fell backwards onto the floor, reaching a weak, useless hand up out of sheer instinct, but Percy brought the knife down on his chest again. And again. And again. The only sounds that filled the room were the sickening suck of the dagger being repetitively pulled from the man’s chest, and Percy’s rhythmic, feral breathing through clenched teeth.
“Percy stop…”
His voice sounded distant as he stared at the carnage, unable to pull his eyes away. He kept going.
“Percy.”
No response. The man’s chest was beginning to look more like a piece of butchered meat.
“Percy!” he cried, snapping himself back to reality.
Finally he paused, his green eyes sharpening as he came out of his frenzied haze. The dagger clattered loudly to the floor, and he slowly stood, hands shaking, before looking over to him. As he looked down upon himself, his left hand was coated in blood. Dark crimson stained the grey of his sweater, and suddenly his vision started to go black around the edges. Back against the wall, he collapsed to the floor, trembling. Percy quickly strode over to him, but the hand that touched him sent a shock of fear through his body. He jerked away, gasping sharply.
“Aryn… it’s okay. You’re okay.”
The familiarity of his voice anchored him, and when Percy went to touch him again, this time he did not pull away. His blue eyes remained fixed on the corpse that now lay in their bedroom.
“Wh-who is that?” he asked numbly, his voice barely more than a trembling whisper.
“Aryn, don’t look at him. Look at me.”
He couldn’t. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man he had just murdered. The thing that shocked him the most was the surprising amount of resistance he had felt when plunging that knife into his throat. He felt it tear through skin and muscle and sinew until finally it sunk the rest of the way in with ease, like he had reached the hollow center of it all.
Strong arms slid beneath his knees and behind his back as Percy hoisted him from the ground, carrying him into the hallway before kicking the bedroom door closed behind them. The last thing he saw as the gap disappeared was the man’s face, vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling, permanently transfixed into an expression of base terror.
He was back on the floor as Percy squatted in front of him.
“Aryn, look at me.”
His blue eyes slowly moved upward, landing on his blood splattered face. He remembered the primal fury that had been there moments ago, a rage only brought on by the threat of his safety.
“Okay listen to me. I’m going to go get help. When I come back, and they start asking questions, you tell them that you had come over to talk about your new council position, okay? Say that I was catching you up on all of the recent events, we were drinking, and you decided to stay in the guest bedroom because it was so late. That’s when you heard a struggle, and that happened.”
“O-okay,” he answered numbly.
“Repeat it to me.”
“I-I… I came over to talk about the council. We were drinking, so I stayed. In the guest bedroom. A-and… and the struggle woke me up, and then we… that happened.”
“I need you to go wash your hands and mess up the sheets in the guest bedroom. It has to look real. Can you do that? Do you understand?”
“Y-yes… yes, I can do that.”
“Do not go into that room. I will be right back.”
Percy moved to stand again, but he instinctively snatched his wrist. “Wh-where are you going?”
His tan face darkened as he looked down at him.
“To get your father.”