Sleep had not come to him easily, even after working into the late hours of the night. Physically he was exhausted, but his mind would not shut itself down. He just kept seeing his face. The ashen blonde hair, his soft blue eyes and those full, blush-colored lips. He liked how he’d said his name…

He sat up in bed with a groan, rubbing at his face. The dim grey light of dawn barely illuminated his room as he clambered out of bed, eyes half-closed still as he struggled to get dressed. He grabbed some dried meat and a piece of bread on his way out the door and headed to the forge where his father was already waiting.

The day dragged by as he slaved over the forge impatiently, just waiting for the sun to set. Maybe he should bathe at the tavern before his shift. He didn’t want to smell and be covered in soot. The boy was a fucking prince after all.

Finally the time came to close up the forge and head out. He bid a hasty goodbye to his father before taking off towards the Dragon’s Nest. The door was locked, much to his surprise, and upon entry he yelled back to Jonathan.

“I’m going to wash up real quick. Don’t burn the place down.”

He filled a basin with cold water and scrubbed his face, arms, and neck before changing into the pair of clothes he had brought with him. He had always switched clothes when coming to work at the tavern so as not to be dirty, but now there was an extra reason for wanting to look presentable.

Returning downstairs, he began to prepare the bar as sunset was turning to dusk. The sky turned from soft oranges and pinks to purples and blues, and the first of many patrons started piling in. The night quickly grew busy as he was rushed with orders, making pleasant conversation while filling drinks. This task was second nature to him by now, and he absentmindedly fulfilled his duties while keeping a keen eye on the door.

The hour ticked by and still no prince. His spirits began to fall. Of course he wasn’t going to come back. He had no business messing around with common folk like him. Why would he?

“Percy!”

He looked up to spot him making his way through the crowded room. He had a thick cloak on, dark blue lined on the inside with fur to fight off the biting cold. It complimented his hair and skin tone and made his eyes stand out. Those eyes locked with his own, brimming with excitement and uncertain discomfort. A slow smile lit up his tan face as Aryn slithered his way through the mass of people, finally reaching the bar.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. “It really is crazy in here.”

Percy laughed. “It gets rowdy but it’s certainly a great time. Want a drink?”

“Please,” he concluded with a sense of desperation.

He poured the prince an ale and carefully slid the mug towards him. “So, why’d you come back? If you don’t mind my asking.”

His blue eyes flicked up towards him, surprised. “Because you invited me. Besides, I realized after our little encounter yesterday that my life is not very exciting, and I would like to add a little excitement to it.”

I could certainly make it exciting.

He smiled again. “What? You mean lounging around in your castle all day while someone feeds you grapes doesn’t get your adrenaline going?” he teased.

Instead of laughing or jesting back, the prince’s face seemed to fall. He looked uncomfortable as he stared into his mug, quiet.

“Hey,” he began softly. “I-I’m sorry, I was just playing with you. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“N-no, you didn’t. It’s just… that’s certainly not what my life is like,” he explained vaguely.

Way to go, dumbarse.

“What is your life like then?” he asked curiously, attempting to get the prince talking again. “Obviously I’ve fallen prey to stereotypes and assumptions.”

His blue eyes grew distant, and sad.

“I’d rather not talk about myself, to be honest. My life is rather boring. I’m more interested in yours,” he admitted, taking a big sip of ale.

He was taken aback.

My life? Mine is certainly more boring than his.

“Well, I primarily work at my father’s forge as his apprentice–”

“Ah, so that’s why you look so strong,” Aryn interjected.

He felt the back of his neck grow hot. “Yes, I uh… I help him there during the day and come to work here in the evenings. This job is decidedly more fun, I’ll tell you that.”

The prince raised an eyebrow. “You don’t enjoy smithing then?”

“Well, it’s not my passion, like my father. I’m good at it, don’t get me wrong–”

“Percy! Another round over here for us, boy!” came a gruff voice at the end of the bar.

He glanced apologetically at Aryn before quickly assembling the drinks asked for, rushing them to the man who ordered them. Upon his return, the prince had also finished his ale.

“Would you like another as well?” he asked dutifully.

Aryn shrugged. “Sure, why not. Thank you.”

He filled his mug and passed it back. The prince reached out to take it, their fingers brushing over one another’s for a brief moment. It sent lightning up his arm.

As he drew his arm back, he cleared his throat to speak. But Aryn got there first.

“So how old are you? You seem about my age but the way you're built is a bit deceiving,” he questioned casually, just making conversation.

Percy chuckled. “Just turned nineteen this past autumn.”

He watched the blue eyes glance at his left hand.

“Not married yet?”

His skin flushed as he rubbed at his neck. “Ah, no… No I uh… I want to secure a stable place in society before I take on such a responsibility.”

You’re such a bad liar.

He had expected judgment, but the only look he received from the prince seemed sympathetic, relieved even.

“That is very responsible of you. I’m surprised your family hasn’t forced you to find a wife yet,” he pointed out.

“Oh believe me, my father is trying. He just doesn’t understand that–” he caught himself. “That I’m trying to ensure my future first.”

His green eyes scanned about the room, landing on a couple young ladies who seemed to be eyeing him eagerly. It seemed it was his turn to be uncomfortable.

“Well, I just entered manhood myself,” Aryn added almost woefully, raising his mug towards him playfully.

“I’m certain you have your hands full with betrothal offers,” he assumed with a smirk.

The prince scoffed with a sad smile. Something shifted on his face, in his eyes. Words unspoken.

“Thankfully not. No, they’re all pining after my brother. The past couple years he’s been searching for the perfect wife, understandably as she is to be Queen someday. He’s rather picky. But with him being the elder of us, not many noble young ladies are eager to offer their hand to me yet.”

“You seem relieved about that situation,” he discerned, a little too much hope in his voice.

He just wants his freedom as a man for a little while. Nothing more. He’s not like you.

“The sooner Philip finds a wife and has a son, the better. Maybe I’ll never have to marry,” he fantasized, taking a swig of his ale.

As he opened his mouth to speak, questions lingering on his tongue, he was interrupted by a sudden presence being made. A young woman with light brown hair and similar eyes shouldered in next to Aryn, bumping the prince slightly. He recognized her immediately: Penelope.

She smiled at him as she leaned on the counter, her teeth surprisingly white. “Percy, be a doll and get me a drink, would you?”

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Her tone was overly playful as she smirked at him, her arms seeming to press her breasts together in an attempt to produce a little more cleavage. He forced a polite smile back at her.

“Of course. Just one? I’d think Lawrence would be with you,” he made a point to mention.

Her expression changed subtly.

“No, he didn’t feel like coming out tonight. He really does find every chance he can to be a buzzkill,” she grumbled.

He passed her a mug.

“Well, he’s probably just exhausted from working like the rest of us.”

“I suppose. I don’t know… I keep telling Da he and I aren’t right for each other. We’re just too different. I need someone fun and adventurous like myself,” she stated wistfully as she walked her fingers along the bar towards him.

His green eyes flicked over towards Aryn in a panic. The prince simply sat quietly watching them, although he was able to see the mischievous smirk hiding behind his mug of ale.

Another cry for a round of drinks suddenly became his saving grace.

“Excuse me,” he said to her dismissively before eagerly fulfilling his duties.

He had known Penelope since they were children, and it had always been clear that she fancied him. When she had become of age, her father had visited their house to speak with him. It was because she wished to be betrothed to Percy. He respectfully declined her proposal, citing the same excuses he had explained to Aryn. That was when she had begun to regularly visit the tavern. Her incessant advances had grown worse after she had been ‘strongly persuaded’ to marry Lawrence.

She was insufferable.

He made a point to take as many orders as possible, filling them all before ever returning to where Aryn sat at the bar. When he finally came back, she had thankfully disappeared.

“Something tells me you two aren’t on the same page,” Aryn pointed out with another smirk.

He let out a pained sigh. “No, not at all…”

“Don’t worry. You’ll find the right lass someday,” the prince mused before taking another swig.

The night proceeded to go by rather fast, as it always did when it was so busy. In between serving drinks, he and Aryn shared conversation. He learned the prince liked horse riding and reading and music. He had a distaste for hunting and the art of the sword. His favorite color was blue. He actually rather liked dancing but hated the social aspect of it. He preferred spending time by himself lost in a good book by the fire over partying and drinking and making merry.

It was close to closing when he came back to Aryn, having fulfilled any last call requests. The prince seemed rather tired from all the ale, his cheeks flushed. The atmosphere was settling down to a far less rowdy environment as people were beginning to make their way out and back home or hole up in the rooms upstairs for the night.

“You doing all right?” he prompted.

Aryn looked up at him and slid his half full mug in his direction. “I am done,” he declared with finality.

Percy laughed and took the cup, dumping it out. “Are you headed back home then?”

“I uh… I should probably stay here. I don’t think trying to get back at this hour would bode well for me,” he pointed out slowly.

The prince was certainly tipsy, but not obviously so. Regardless, he was thinking clearly enough to make the best decision still. His starry blue eyes turned up to look at him with a loose smile.

“Do you have a room I could stay in?”

Percy blinked, refocusing. “Oh, yes. Of course. Let me show you.”

He finished wiping down the counter before guiding Aryn up the stairs. The hallways were longer than one would think, as the tavern was deeper than it was wide. Their best rooms tended to go unoccupied, so he walked the prince to one of those. As he opened the door, a draft of cooler air greeted them welcomingly.

The room was all the way in the back of the second floor, rather isolated from the rest. The stuffiness of the first floor did not reach this area. A rather large bed stood against the wall, along with a small dresser to store clothes and a little round table with two chairs. He stepped aside and motioned with his hand.

“Your room, Your Highness,” he said playfully in an overly formal tone.

Aryn giggled.

“Thank you, sir,” he responded in a similar manner before snickering.

The prince walked over and plopped down on the bed, falling backwards with a heavy sigh. Percy smiled as he approached, seizing the opportunity to get a good look at him.

His frame was slight, some might deign to call it feminine. His facial features were fair and defined, with slim cheeks and protruding cheekbones. For a man, he was beautiful.

“Do you uh… need anything else?” he asked, clearing his throat.

This prompted him to sit up.

“Well, I actually thought maybe we could spend some time together. You asked me a lot of questions, but I didn’t get to really ask you anything, now did I?” he pointed out with a shy smirk.

Percy sighed. “I suppose you’re right. May I?” he asked, motioning to the bed.

Aryn patted the mattress in response. He approached and took a seat, happy to take a load off finally. His feet ached from standing so long on the hard wooden floor, and his lower back was subsequently stiff. Those blue eyes glanced over at him, making his chest flutter.

“So, you mentioned you didn’t really like smithing. What do you like?” he questioned curiously.

Percy chuckled shyly. “Well, I actually uh… I like art, believe it or not–”

“Shut up, are you serious?” he interrupted excitedly. “So you like to paint and such?”

“Yeah, mostly I just do charcoal sketches. It’s nothing wondrous,” he murmured.

“You have to show me your drawings,” Aryn demanded excitedly, placing a hand on his knee.

His leg tensed as his stomach tightened.

“I-I suppose I could, yeah. I don’t have my sketchbook with me at the moment.”

“Well, that’s all right. Just promise you’ll remember for next time when I come round,” Aryn concluded.

His boyish excitement was horribly endearing, and Percy couldn’t help but smile. “I will. Promise.”

The prince beamed before suddenly resting his forehead on Percy’s shoulder. “I should not have drank so much.”

“Rookie mistake, huh?” Percy teased, looking down at the mop of Aryn’s silky, ashen hair.

“Absolutely. Never doing that again…”

Time seemed to freeze as he hesitated. He could feel the heat radiating between them, like a magnet trying to pull them together. He reached his hand around and placed it on his back, gently rubbing up and down.

Aryn responded by nuzzling closer to him, burying his face in Percy’s shoulder.

They sat like that for a moment, the quiet becoming comfortable until Aryn spoke up.

“Have you ever felt exhausted? Not physically but… have you ever felt like you couldn’t stand to be around people for a moment longer? Like your nerves are so frayed they feel on fire?” he murmured softly.

It took him a moment to process and understand what the prince was trying to say.

“I suppose I have yes, just maybe not to such an extreme. I’m glad to be away from here when my shift is done, when everything finally gets quiet again.”

He tilted his chin down to look at Aryn as he spoke again, his voice quiet and fragile.

“After my mum died… I just wanted to be completely alone. I couldn’t stand being near others, it was like their mere presence was a dagger piercing my mind. I just wanted everything to be quiet. And it’s just been getting worse...”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He could feel the prince’s pain, and he wanted to empathize. But in reality he had never experienced loss as great as his. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Aryn again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he murmured as he began to pull away, clearly embarrassed. “You probably think I’m mental…”

“No,” he interjected immediately. “No, I don’t think that at all.”

They locked eyes again, the prince’s blue irises starry with the threat of tears.

“I mean, you lost your mum. I think that would make anyone feel terrible. It’s an extremely difficult situation to deal with, and from my understanding everyone mourns differently. Figures things out differently. That doesn’t make you mental.”

He placed a strong, calloused hand on top of his without thinking, wanting to comfort him somehow. Aryn quickly glanced down at their hands.

“I’m glad I finally crawled out of the hole I was in, though,” he started. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you. You seem like a really nice person, Percy. You make me feel comfortable, which is hard to do… And you listen. It’s nice to be listened to for a change.”

The two of them paused, falling silent. He gave Aryn’s hand a gentle squeeze, taking in as many details as he could about the way it felt.

“I’m so sorry, this conversation was supposed to be about you,” the prince said after a moment, shaking his head.

Percy chuckled. “No, it’s okay. Really. I’m glad you told me those things. It seemed like you needed to get it off your chest.”

Aryn sighed heavily. “I suppose I did. And now I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open from all that ale,” he pointed out with a breathy laugh.

“You should get some rest,” Percy concluded, smiling softly.

He let go of Aryn’s hand and stood from the bed, rubbing at his neck as he strode towards the door.

“Percy–”

He turned.

“Yeah?”

His blue eyes darted towards the floor, avoiding him. “Would you mind staying here with me? I don’t know this place very well and it makes me nervous to be alone.”

He felt his heart jump nervously as he swallowed.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he agreed with a smile, walking back over to Aryn.

He sat and removed his boots before glancing over at the prince unsurely. “Do you… mind sharing the bed?”

“N-No, not at all. That’s fine,” he responded shyly before taking off his boots as well.

Percy walked over to put the candles in the room out once Aryn seemed to have gotten settled in bed. His cheeks were still flushed, but the color was now a mixture of tipsiness and emotionality. He carefully made his way through the darkened room to the bed and climbed under the covers, facing away from him. His heart wouldn’t settle down.

You need to calm down and stop being so stupid. Just go to sleep. Leave him alone before you do something to freak him out.

He lay there in the dark, just as restless as he was last night. He could hear Aryn’s soft, slow breathing. He wanted to turn and look at him, take in his face, but refused himself. Eventually he forced himself to sleep.