E.A. Deverell - FREE worksheets (characters, world building, narrator, etc.) and paid courses;
Hiveword - Helps to research any topic to write about (has other resources, too);
BetaBooks - Share your draft with your beta reader (can be more than one), and see where they stopped reading, their comments, etc.;
Charlotte Dillon - Research links;
Writing realistic injuries - The title is pretty self-explanatory: while writing about an injury, take a look at this useful website;
One Stop for Writers - You guys... this website has literally everything we need: a) Description thesaurus collection, b) Character builder, c) Story maps, d) Scene maps & timelines, e) World building surveys, f) Worksheets, f) Tutorials, and much more! Although it has a paid plan ($90/year | $50/6 months | $9/month), you can still get a 2-week FREE trial;
One Stop for Writers Roadmap - It has many tips for you, divided into three different topics: a) How to plan a story, b) How to write a story, c) How to revise a story. The best thing about this? It's FREE!
Story Structure Database - The Story Structure Database is an archive of books and movies, recording all their major plot points;
National Centre for Writing - FREE worksheets and writing courses. Has also paid courses;
Penguin Random House - Has some writing contests and great opportunities;
Crime Reads - Get inspired before writing a crime scene;
The Creative Academy for Writers - "Writers helping writers along every step of the path to publication." It's FREE and has ZOOM writing rooms;
Reedsy - "A trusted place to learn how to successfully publish your book" It has many tips, and tools (generators), contests, prompts lists, etc. FREE;
QueryTracker - Find agents for your books (personally, I've never used this before, but I thought I should feature it here);
Pacemaker - Track your goals (example: Write 50K words - then, everytime you write, you track the number of the words, and it will make a graphic for you with your progress). It's FREE but has a paid plan;
Save the Cat! - The blog of the most known storytelling method. You can find posts, sheets, a software (student discount - 70%), and other things;
“First forget inspiration. Habit is more dependable. Habit will sustain you whether you’re inspired or not. Habit will help you finish and polish your stories. Inspiration won’t. Habit is persistence in practice.”
An anti-villain is a villain who lacks traditional villainous qualities. Want to make one? You need just three ingredients.
A questionable greater good motivation
A noble personal motivation
Unexpected personal qualities
Motivations
What does the character believe is for the greater good? Ending a famine, stopping a war, assassinating a cruel king, etc. Now make it personal. How does achieving that benefit or prevent harm to themselves or those in their immediate circle?
An anti-villain often has a greater good motivation that’s difficult or impossible to accept as morally just, but we understand why the villain thinks that. An anti-villain might enthusiastically create a weapon with the power to wipe out a whole continent. Why? That continent has a deadly disease spreading on it, and the villain believes destroying everyone there is the only way to prevent it from spreading to the rest of the world.
Their personal motivation must be noble. Their father gave them everything, and the villain promised to give their father a comfortable retirement in return. Due to his advanced age, their father would be unlikely to survive the virus if it were to spread to their homeland. Moreover, our villain will get money when they complete the weapon, and then they’ll finally be able to purchase their father a house so he can stop working and get the rest he deserves.
Unexpected Qualities
We see our villain behaving selflessly, putting their father’s well-being above their own. Give them other qualities we don’t expect from villains. They’re timid and taciturn. They’re a force of brightness and positivity to those around them. Oftentimes, giving them doubts about the villainous actions they do can make them more convincing.
Anti-villains are loveable. They steal our hearts even as we root against them. They add complexity to the narrative, showing that right and wrong aren’t always so clear cut. Have you written any anti-villains? Tell me about them!
This is my full masterlist where you can find all my works, from what fandom they’re and ship/character they are about. Please check the original post regularly, it’s gonna change over time.
part i | part ii | part iii
AO3 | masterlist
Thomastair Royal AU: Tale of the Prince and the Servant (can be skipped if you really want to)
I know it has been months since and I'm sorry for this 😭 I was in a writing block. But I managed to finally finish this!
So, Sun @taylorjamie Happy Birthday to you <3 I love you. I know it has been many months but here it is. I hope you enjoy it ❤️
•
~ Present ~
When Thomas opened his eyes he took a deep breath and felt alive again.
Alastair was sitting on the bed with crossed legs, still holding their hands together. The moment Thomas moved, his eyes snapped open and looked at his face, searching.
“Tom?”
“Hi,” he smiled.
“Hi yourself,” Alastair squeezed his hand, his eyes the only thing that showed his anxiety. “How are you feeling?”
Like the ghost of my childhood doesn’t hang over me anymore, Thomas thought.
“Better,” he said, sitting up. “So much better.”
Alastair visibly relaxed.
“Good,” he said, letting out a sigh. “Good.”
Thomas smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. It was a short, comforting kiss. They stayed close, leaning against each other’s foreheads.
“You look at me more intensely than usual,” Thomas said with a teasing smile after a few minutes. “Don’t I look like myself again?”
“You do,” Alastair said, his small smile suddenly melted. “Not that it mattered what face you have.”
“Really?”
Alastair slowly nodded. “Your face was different,” he said, quietly but sure. “But it was still your hands. Your skin. Your scars. Your lips. I would recognize you even in the darkness.”
Thomas blinked a few times, fast, chasing the tears away. He couldn’t stop the doopy smile on his face.
“But still,” Alastair said, his smile back. “I’m glad your old look is back. I like your stupid face.”
Thomas shook his head but couldn’t stop the laughter from his mouth.
•
Alastair filled the blanks for Thomas. He told him what they had found about the potion. What they were arrested for. How long they have been here.
“Two days?” Thomas said, stunned. “Damn.”
“Damn indeed,” Alastair sighed. “At least we don’t have to worry this damn shit potion will make you sick forever.”
Thomas squeezed his hand. It was wonderful to have Thomas back. Not that Alastair ever lost him… but in some ways they had been apart.
“Do you know what happened to Kamala and Grace?”
Alastair shook his head. “No idea. They separated us. We’re lucky we’re together.”
“Has anyone come to question you?”
“No,” Alastair said and frowned. “This is very weird when I think about it.”
Thomas stood up, starting to walk around. The same old habit when his anxiety was triggered.
“Something is off,” he said, a frown on his face. “From day one a General should have come and personally questioned you. Especially with the accusations being this serious.”
He stopped suddenly, staring at the door. A moment later Alastair heard it too. Steps.
The small chink on the dungeon’s door opened, letting in a light.
“Dinner,” a male voice announced and a plate with food slipped in. “There’s a message from… your friend. She says it’s time everyone hears the whole story of how you met.”
The chink was closed, and the steps faded away. Alastair and Thomas exchanged stunned looks. Thomas went to the plate and squatted.
“There is a note,” he looked at Alastair with sparkling eyes.
He opened it. His eyes were moving as he read. He bit his lip.
“What is it?” Alastair said.
Thomas shook his head. “It’s from Kamala, I think… she… the note says that she thinks everything is in motion and already started.”
“It? ” he said and got up, approaching Thomas. He took the note and scanned it.
There wasn’t much. Just a few lines that warned them to be ready and what Thomas said.
“How did you find out it’s from Kamala?” he turned to Thomas.
“She always does this torsion with the "y","g" and "j". I would recognize it anywhere. And the strange thing the guard said… she said something like that when she and Grace found out we are some famous tale.”
Alastair read the note again.
“Be prepared for what though?”
Thomas shrugged helplessly. “Maybe she has a plan to get us out of here? I don’t know.”
Alastair ran a hand through his face. He hated it when he didn’t know what was going on.
Thomas’ warm hand on his back helped a little.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and find out.”
•
They didn’t have to wait for long.
The door of their dungeon was carefully and slowly opened. Half the face of a guard appeared. Probably around their age, brown eyes and curly hair.
“Come on,” he whispered. Thomas recognized the voice as the man that gave them food earlier. “We don’t have much time.”
Alastair and Thomas didn’t waste any time. As quietly as they could, they came out and followed the guard. He moved silently through the tunnels of the dungeons. Thomas rarely has come here, even as a son of the captain of the royal guard. It was a forbidden place and even Benji, who was always a curious explorer, didn’t manage to sneak into it.
The guard clearly knew where he was going. He was short, not just compared to Thomas. He was at Alastair’s nose level. Thomas was tempted to ask some questions but didn’t dare. He was holding Alastair's hand as they moved around. Thomas was completely lost. The thought that they maybe shouldn’t trust the guy crossed his mind but if he wanted to hurt them, he would have done it in the dungeon.
Finally, they reached an exit. The guard unlocked a door and suddenly, they were outside, the night chill but not cold. Fresh air hit Thomas in the face but he didn’t mind. He hadn’t gone out in days.
“Here,” he whispered as he led them into the bushes. “We’ll be safe here for a while.”
“In the bushes?” Alastair raised an eyebrow.
The guard didn’t seem bothered. “Better.”
He took out another key and as he moved aside another bush, he revealed a door on the ground, probably a forgotten basement.
“Great, another room under the ground,” Alastair murmured.
The guard shot them a sympathetic look. “This was the only place I could think of. I didn’t have a lot of time.”
They went down the stairs. It was even smaller than their dungeon. There was only a double bed and a table - no room for anything bigger. The guard locked after them and left the key hanging on a hook next to the door.
“Okay, enough of this,” Alastair headed towards him and the guard’s eyes widened and he made a step back.
Thomas would laugh if their situation wasn’t so bad.
“What do you have to do with Kamala? Why are you helping us?” Alastair bombarded him with questions. “And who the hell are you?”
“Whoa,” the guard took another step back but his back hit the wall. Small room, it is.
“First, my name is Berold,” he said. “I owe Kamala. She helped me a few years ago. When I saw her in the dungeon I knew something was off. So when she asked for help, I agreed,” he hesitantly added. “Are we good?”
Alastair continued to glare at him warily but stepped back to Thomas.
Berold took a deep breath.
“We have to wait for Kamala here. She said that… something is up.”
Just know Thomas noticed how tense he was. Something was telling Thomas it had nothing to do with letting out prisoners. There was something else.
“Is there someone you are worried about in the palace?” Thomas asked gently.
Berold blinked and turned to look at him. He shifted uncomfortably and leaned on the table, crossing arms.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “My husband. He is a knight. Tonight he is on watch. Weird things have been happening the last few days.”
“Weird things?” Alastair frowned.
Berold nodded. “Sudden change of the schedule. Inaccessibility to certain areas. Cleaning weapons. The list is going on. Reggie even told me that he hadn't been allowed to talk with his superiors the whole day.”
“Wait, did you say Reggie?” Alastair said. “As Reginald?”
“Yeah,” the guard eyed him curiously. “My husband. You know him?”
Alastair snorted. “Hardly. He arrested me.”
“Oh,” Berold looked away. “Awkward.”
His lover pressed his lips and looked away. He sat on the bed, his back hitting the wall. He intensely stared at the wall in front of him, his long legs stretched out on the bed. Thomas sat on the end of it, his elbows on his knees.
“So,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “How did you and your husband meet?”
Berold smiled.
Turns out their guard was a talker. And a little bit of gossiper. He told them the story of how he and Reginald met for the first time, just the bad luck of a newbie who got confused in the big palace and a knight kind enough to help him. As Berold started he couldn’t stop. He told them stories from the palace, with him and his husband.
“On our wedding,” he said. “I caught Amice and Mabel hooking up. I almost choked on my wine! I can never imagine them being a good couple.”
“Why?” Thomas siad, curious.
“It’s just that… Amice is a good woman. The best knight. Strict but dedicated, kind when needed, an awesome sword fighter,” he leaned a bit, like he was telling a secret. “You haven’t heard it from me but… Mabel is awful. Amice can find herself a better woman.”
“How so?” Alastair said, suddenly interested in the conversion.
Berold shrugged. “I don’t want to talk bad about people just like that but… Man, I hate that girl. She’s always trying to get something out of you. Like a vampire. Never leaves you alone until you give exactly what she wants.” he shuddered. “Poor Benji. He chose her because she’s decent with the sword but didn’t know what a leech she is.”
“Hm,” was all Alastair said before looking away again. Berold knew better than to try to talk to him further.
“Tell me about the wedding,” Thomas said, part of him wanting to spare them the awkwardness, the other genuinely curious about this strangers’ wedding.
Berold’s expression softened.
“Oh, it was amazing,” he said. “It was simple. No extravagant stuff, no pomposity. We both hated these fancy things. We came to meet each other’s family. I saw my father for the first time in two years. He can’t visit often, if at all, because he owns a tavern, a nation away from here. Small town, old buildings. It’s adorable actually. My family even had to leave a little early because my niece got sick.”
Alastair and Thomas exchanged looks.
“Berold,” Thomas said slowly. “I know the chance for this is very slim but… Does by any chance your father's name is Armin?”
His eyes widened. “Actually… it is. I… how do you know this?”
He heard Alastair murmuring, “Small world.”
Thomas grinned. “We worked for him for a few days.”
Berold eyes widened. “Oh my gods, really? You know him?”
Thomas nodded. “We do. Kind of. I’m not sure if he’ll remember us.”
Berold exhaled. “Damn, the world is indeed small.”
Thomas opened his mouth to answer but before he could a knock on the door made them all jump.
•
“This must be Kamala,” Berold said and took the key from the hook. He unlocked it and took a glance at who was standing there before opening it widely.
Kamala came in and Berold quickly closed after her. She looked like she had a fight with the bushes and lost. Her arm was strangely hanging next to her body. She looked exhausted.
“Kamala!” Thomas jumped from the bed and hugged her. “Gods, what happened to you?”
“I don’t wanna talk about that,” she sighed but hugged him. “And we have no time to lose.”
“What’s going on?” Alastair stood up too.
Kamala ran a hand through her hair.
“Something is very, very wrong,” she said. “We have been out of prison for hours and literally no one gives a shit. I… Well, Grace insists a coup is in motion. She went to look after the Queen.”
“This is stupid,” Alastair said with a grimace. “She’s smarter than that.”
Kamala pressed her lips together and didn’t answer him. She turned to Berold.
“I need to know who we can trust. Do you have any idea which knights are corrupted?”
Berold looked pale. He stared at her, his fingers touching his parted lips.
“Someone wants to harm Her Majesty?” he whispered. “For real?”
Kamala’s eyes softened. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve answers and I’m sorry we can’t give you the whole story. But we don’t have time.”
Berold took a deep breath. His hands tightened into fists. He looked at them, determination in his eyes.
“I don’t know which knights are worth your thrust,” he said. “But I know who will know.”
Shortly after, they were back in the bushes, walking to the main hall where Berold’s husband was. At first Berold insisted on going alone. More people, higher chances to get caught. But neither Thomas nor Alastair could just sit and wait anymore. They all went.
Alastair watched as Berold quickly went to the gate and started a conversion with one of the knights. She was nodding as he was talking and then smiled. She told him something and went inside.
Berold ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. After a few minutes Reginald came out of the building.
He smiled warmly when he saw Berold. He hugged him across the shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Berold started to talk and on Reginald’s face appeared a devilish smile. But as the other man continued the smile vanished. He was listening to his husband, looking more and more tense.
They haven’t discussed what Berold would tell him but he said he’ll deal with it. He was still talking when Reginald took a look around. He didn’t look at their direction though so probably Berold had some brain cells, Alastair thought.
He saw how the knight’s eyes widened. He was looking at his husband with bewilderment.
“This doesn’t look too good,” Thomas murmured.
“We don’t have time for this,” Kamala sighed.
“We don’t have a choice,” Thomas noted.
The poor bastard, Alastair thought as he watched Berold and Reginald talking, quietly but obviously more heated.
Suddenly a loud cry broke the silent night. Reginald turned immediately towards the sound, taking out his sword. Berold took out a dagger out of his cross.
“Our time is up,” Kamala said. “We have to go.”
•
“This is suicide,” Alastair hissed. “We don’t have a plan, we’re just rushing into a situation we know nothing about. This is terrible. And where the hell is Grace?”
“We have a plan,” Kamala said. “Grace and I came with a plan. If we hurry now-”
“No,” Thomas said, surprising both himself and them. Alastair and Kamala looked at him. “You two always come up with a plan on your own, excluding us, always secretive and untrusting. We wasted weeks in the palace, doing nothing while Grace was playing a spy and probably you making an investigation on your own.”
“Thomas…”
“Fuck this,” he said and got up from the bush. He headed towards Berold and Reginald.
“Stop him,” he heard Kamala hissing at Alastair.
He could almost picture Alastair’s grin. “What, like, physically?”
He heard the frustrated sigh of Kamala before he was too far away from them.
Reginald’s eyes widened when he saw Thomas over Berold’s head. There was recognition in them.
“Sir Reginald,” Thomas said. “I know this is sudden, reckless and you have no reason to trust us. I know… how crazy it looks. But we don’t have a lot of time - we believe a coup is happening right now and we have very little time and people to prevent it. We don’t know who is really on our side or just a pretender. But we were assured you are a true knight and can help us. Will you?”
Reginald was still wide-eyed and startled but he put himself together. He nodded firmly.
“It’s an honour for me, sir Thomas,” he bowed and looked at him again. “I remember the very first time this happened. The tragedy that caused. If I can do anything to prevent it from happening, I will.
Berold looked at Thomas, wide eyed. “You… I thought-”
“We have no time,” Alastair's sharp voice interrupted them. He and Kamala were next to him. “The palace is burning.”
All of them turned to it. Alastair was right. It was a small fire coming from the kitchens and all knights, guards and servants were running around, some carrying water, others helping injured people. No one was paying them any attention.
“It started,” he heard Kamala whispering.
“I have a few people in mind I trust,” Reginald said. “Lady Amice is absolutely loyal, I’m sure of it. But I haven’t seen her in two days and I… I’m worried about her. General Cecily, captain Gideon, sir Benji… None of the authorities had answered in the last twenty four hours.”
Thomas and Kamala exchanged worried looks. People they cared about. Their family.
“Gather all the knights you trust, the ones you’re absolutely sure are loyal,” Kamala ordered. “We have to protect the people in the palace. Then send some who will protect the queen to her doors.”
Reginald nodded curtly and turned to Berold. He cupped his face and leaned forward to kiss his forehead and whispered something to him. Berold nodded with a pained expression and kissed his cheek. Reginald let go of him and turned, running towards the building he came out of a few moments ago.
Berold turned to them. “Can I be useful somehow? I’m not the best fighter.”
“Yes,” Kamala said. She took out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “Find Grace. Tell her about the changes in the plan. Then find us. We’ll go to check on the queen.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do that,” he opened it and as he read it, he headed off too.
Kamala looked at the fire. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll go catch our imposter.”
•
The moment they crossed the first corridor, Alastair got lost.
The palace wasn’t as big as the one he was raised in but everything looked the same here. There were barely any tapestries or hangings on the walls, just stairs and empty halls.
Thomas and Kamala clearly knew where they were going. They didn’t hesitate for a second where to turn or which corridor was the right one.
“Shouldn’t we get weapons before we stumble into some potential assassin?” Thomas said, a little breathy, while they were running.
“No time!” Kamala said in reply. “Charlotte can be attacked any minute now!”
We are complete idiots, Alastair thought. And we’re gonna get killed.
They entered part of the palace that was oddly empty. There were no servants or knights, not even guards.
“It’s so quiet,” Thomas whispered. “I can’t even hear the chaos outside.”
Kamala was holding a dagger in her hand, the same one she was trying to protect them with when they were arrested. She was squeezing it so hard her knuckles were white.
They approached a door, hiding behind the corner.
“That’s the queen’s office,” Thomas whispered to him.
“Aren’t there supposed to be knights in front of it?” he murmured. “Or at least guards?”
“Yes,” Kamala said, staring at it. “There should be. All the time.”
But the three of them were the only people around.
A thought creeped in Alastair’s mind that made him cold. What if it was too late? What if Charlotte was already dead?
They heard approaching footsteps. A servant girl with a plate of croissants approached the door and knocked. She seemed vaguely familiar to Alastair. This was the same girl that served them tea when they first arrived in the palace. What was her name? Martha?
She opened it and entered the room. She left the door open so Thomas, Kamala and Alastair could see inside.
Queen Charlotte, captain Gideon and lady Sophie were standing there, reading documents. Charlotte was sitting behind a desk, reading a piece of paper with a frown. There were dark circles under her eyes. Gideon and Sophie were quietly talking.
Charlotte looked up and smiled at the girl. “Thank you, Martha,” she said. “You can go rest now. It was a long day.”
The girl left the plate with croissants on the desk and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s attention was already back in the paper and she only waved at Martha. The servant took one last look at the croissants and then left, closing the door quietly.
“I don’t understand,” Kamala whispered. “It had to happen now. Why is no one here?”
“Maybe they’re targeting someone else,” Alastair said quietly. “What about the king? General Cecily?”
Thomas bit his lips. “But… Why would they attack someone else if the queen is so… so vulnerable right now? Henry doesn’t hold any political power on his own. He can’t rule without a queen.”
“We should check on him,” Kamala said. “And whoever that was during the attack there. Maybe their target isn’t the queen but another person that was there that day.”
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. “This becomes more and more confusing.”
Alastair took his hand and squeezed it. Thomas did the same in return.
“We should stop for weapons,” Alastair said. “Because I’m not going to face a damn assassin empty-handed. We had luck this time - I’m not risking it again.”
“You are right,” Kamala said. “We should be careful. It was stupid and risky to come here unarmed,” she turned around and headed towards the direction they came from. “Come on. Let’s get some weapons.”
Much to Alastair’s relief, there were spears in the armory. Not the ones he would use if he had a choice but they didn’t have the luxury of time. Kamala took a weep and Thomas - an old favourite weapon of his, bolas. All of them took a sword.
Thomas explained that Henry spent most of his time in his laboratory that was on the first floor because of his wheelchair. He was a scientist and Christopher often helped him, even did experiments on his own. They didn’t even bother to check the queen and king’s room. They headed straight towards the laboratory.
It was still strangely empty on their way to it. Like all people had disappeared.
When they got closer to the lab they heard voices. They slowed down and tried to step lightly, careful not to make any noise.
This time it wasn’t as easy to look inside as before. For one, there were knights. Maybe not too much, a dozen, but they stood no chance against them.
“We have to split,” Kamala whispered, her voice barely audible. “If they find some of us, they mustn’t know there are more people who know about the scheme.”
Thomas and Alastair nodded. They exchanged a glance, not daring to speak. Thomas kissed his forehead. With one last squeez of their hands, they let go.
•
Alastair didn’t dare to look where they were going. He just headed towards the opposite direction, looking for a hiding place where he could watch what was happening. It wasn’t too hard. The palace had lots of corridors, halls without doors and hiding dark spots.
When he saw the scene in front of him, his blood ran cold.
Grace and Berold were there. They were tied up and covered in brushes. Berold was breathing hard and looked in pain. Probably one of his rips was broken. Grace had a cleft lower lip and blood on her clothes. She was looking murderous at someone.
Alastair recognized the girl as Mabel, one of the knights who was there for their arrest and someone Berold had said he didn’t like. She was holding a crossbow aimed at a boy’s chest. This must be Christopher Lightwood, Alastair thought. Thomas’ cousin.
One of the glasses on his face was broken. He didn’t seem hurt but he looked wide-eyed at Mabel.
“I’m asking for the last time,” Mabel said, her teeth gritted. “Where is the king?”
“I don’t know,” Christopher said, his breathing hard. He looked her hard in the eyes. “He left a few hours ago. I haven’t seen him since then.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes but before she could say or do something, a voice called for her. She turned to the knight who was running towards her.
“What?” she snapped.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said, breath bursting in and out. He swallowed before looking at her. “I was told to report immediately after it’s done.”
“Talk,” Mabel rolled her eyes.
“This part of the palace is cut off from the rest of the court. No one will suspect anything and even if they do, they can’t come in.”
“Good. What about Benji?”
“He and the rest of the knights that aren’t on our side are sleeping and locked in their rooms.”
Mabel nodded approvingly. “Nice. Now,” she turned to Christopher. “Where were we?”
Alastair barely blinked and a shadow came out of the dark. Everything happened fast. He saw Christopher shutting his eyes as Mabel released the arrow towards his chest.
Instead of hitting him though, the arrow hit the wall, harmlessly falling on the floor.
Thomas was holding the crossbow, redirecting it away from his cousin. His jaw was set and his eyes were burning.
Mabel stared at him, her mouth agape. There were already knights around them, grabbing him. He let go of the crossbow, breaking eye contact with Mabel.
She pressed her lips together.
“Search the place!” she shouted. “There may be others. Tie him up and put him with the others.”
Shit, Alastair thought. I should get out of here. Kamala and I still can do something if we escape now.
But his body didn’t move. He was rooted in place, his legs refusing to cooperate. He knew, he knew, that if he stayed here and let himself get caught, he wouldn’t help Thomas and his friends in any way. But his chest was heavy and blood was raging in his ears.
Mabel turned to the guy who reported to her a minute ago.
“You,” she growed. He flinched. “Go to find the mistress. Tell her we have… troubles.”
He nodded and ran off, without a second glance back.
Pressing a fist to his lips, Alastair turned away and started running, hiding in the shadows. He didn’t allow himself to glance back at Thomas or he wouldn’t be able to walk away.
The guy had said this part of the palace was cut off. Then Reginald and his knights wouldn’t be able to come soon. It would take them some time. They didn’t have it.
The only other option was… the locked knights.
Alastair almost groaned. Some annoyance creeped in his mind, distracting him from the buzzling anxiety. It made him feel a little more stable.
Unfortunately, he’d have to deal with one very unpleasant ginger.
•
Thomas was trying very hard not to fall apart.
Grace was on one side of him, Christopher on the other. He could hear his cousin's uneven breath.
“Tom,” he whispered. “How- What are you doing-”
“I will explain everything, I promise,” Thomas said, swallowing. “Let’s just… let’s just survive this, okay? I’ll tell you everything.”
Christopher closed his eyes but nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Alright. Do you have any idea why-”
“Shut the fuck up,” one knight snapped at them.
Grace shot him a look, filled with loath but pressed her lips together. She shook her head at Thomas. They had to remain quiet and obedient until they knew what was going on.
Mabel was pacing around the room, eyeing the door every two seconds.
After a few silent minutes and many stolen glances between the four captives, the knight returned, his head popping up at the door.
“She’s here,” he whispered.
Rubbing hands down her pants, Mabel approached the door and left the lab, closing it. They heard muffled voices and the two knights in their room exchanged glances.
After a few minutes the voices died down and the door opened. A few knights entered first, with straightened backs and blank expressions.
After them, followed by Mabel, came the so-called mistress.
On the doorway was standing Martha. The servant girl who brought them tea when they arrived. The girl that they saw in the Queen’s room not long ago.
She looked around the room with a cold, calculated gaze.
Her blue eyes stopped on Thomas for a few seconds then slowly moved to Christopher. She arched an eyebrow.
“Well, well,” she said. “We have quite the gang here. The godson of the king. The runaway son of the captain of the royal guard. The so-called spy of Her Majesty,” she looked at Berold and smiled mockingly. “Oh, and some useless guard.”
Berold shrunk under her gaze.
“I heard,” she said, holding her hands loosely behind her back while walking around the lab like she was looking around a museum. “That we have some trouble with cooperating, hm?”
“I said multiple times already,” he said, a hint of fear and anger creeping into his voice. “I have no idea where the king is.”
“It’s alright, sweet thing,” Martha said, picking up the arrow that Mabel intended for Christopher from the floor. “I believe you.”
“You do?” he said, frowning in confusion.
“I do,” Martha said. “Instead of demanding pointless answers, I’ll give you a simple task that is in your area of knowledge.”
Christopher didn’t say anything, just stared at the arrow in her hands.
“The potion I’m sure we all know about. Some more than others,” she winked at Grace and Thomas. “Need to be improved.”
“What?”
“You see, the creator of "new life, new home", unfortunately, died a few years ago. Of old age, in his sleep, peacefully. Really good death. But he couldn’t help us develop the potion to the level we want it.”
Martha carefully took a bottle from the table and smelled it, then put it back.
“I know about your skills, Christopher,” she said, slowly approaching them. “And I truly believe you are capable of fulfilling my desire.”
She stopped in front of him and looked him in the eyes, her face close to his.
“I want you to make this potion not just change your feathers,” she said, her voice smooth and quiet, like she was talking to a lover. “But to change them according to the person’s wishes.”
Christopher’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “I… I don’t think…”
“We’ll leave you with the old man’s notes,” she said with a smile, still gently holding the arrow. “I’m sure with enough time and the right motivation, you can do it.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Gods, I can’t… This would- No.”
The friendly smile vanished from her face, her mask falling completely.
“There is a misunderstanding,” she said, her voice still low but more cold now. “This is not a request.”
Then she suddenly turned and raised her arm - the arrow flew at Thomas’ face.
•
“No!”
It took a moment for Thomas to hear the screams over the raging beating of his heart in his ears.
“I will do it! Please!”
Thomas let go a long, shaky breath as the arrow was vibrating, driven into the wall next to his head.
“Don’t hurt him!”
He was hearing Christopher’s pleas, Grace and Berold’s screams. But his heart was the loudest.
Martha turned to Kit with a smile. “I knew we would come to an agreement.”
She sharply turned her head towards the knights standing next to the wall. “Untie him,” she barked at them.
At least three knights jumped to comply with her order. Martha turned on her heels and headed toward Mabel, who was standing on the door. Mabel looked at her, guilty. Martha started to talk with her quietly, Mabel nodding.
Thomas looked at Christopher who was next to the table, running a hand through his hair. Grace was breathing heavily next him, her arm barely touching his.
“We have to do something,” Grace said through gritted teeth.
“What?” Thomas whispered. “They’ll kill us without hesitation. Or at least Martha would.”
“Lady Kamala and Prince Alastair are still free,” Berold whispered. “They’ll come up with something. We have to wait for them.”
Grace shook her head. “We don’t have-”
“I can’t do it alone,” Christopher said.
The room went quiet. Everyone looked at Christopher who was standing unembarrassed, holding a pile of paper.
Martha slowly turned to him. “What did you say?”
“I can’t do it alone,” Christopher repeated. “I need Grace to help me.”
Martha pressed her lips together and shot a glance at Grace. Thomas was impressed how fast his friend changed attitudes. A minute ago she was determined and furious, ready to chop off someone’s limb. Now she was a wide-eyed, scared, fragile damsel in distress with a bleeding lip.
“Fine,” Martha snorted. She waved at the knights. “And don’t try anything funny,” her gaze landed on Kit again. “What did you and sir Thomas call each other? Brothers in anything but blood?” she arched an eyebrow with a foxy smile.
Christopher didn’t react but Thomas saw how his hand shook.
•
More than half an hour passed. Christopher and Grace were working hard under Martha’s gaze. Thomas was getting seriously worried.
Where were Alastair and Kamala? Has something happened to them? Thomas was trying not to think too hard on this or he had trouble breathing properly.
He glanced at Berold. He was subtly moving the hands behind his back, probably trying to free himself. Thomas suddenly remembered that he had people he must be worried about too. His husband being one of them.
Thomas was so deep into his thoughts he didn’t notice the man that had entered the room until he spoke.
“How long is this going to take?” he asked Martha, frowning. He had pale blonde, almost white hair that clearly needed a haircut.
“Shut up and don’t mess anything up,” Martha said.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But we had to be done at this point. This is taking forever.”
“Why don’t you take a sword and fight for the cause then?” Martha said viciously. “Why don’t you do something yourself, Mister My-Face-Is-Too-Important?”
He rolled his eyes. He was tall and slim and obviously not suited for sword-fight. “Stop bitching on me,” he said. “Besides, what about the knights that-”
Then they heard steps.
A lot of steps.
•
When the nights bore into the ranks of the traitors, it became chaos. Alastair and Kamala straight up went to the room that was the laboratory, almost crushing the door open along with a few knights. Alastair’s eyes immediately found Thomas. Relief washed over him and without paying attention to anyone else, he went straight up to him.
A knight reached him first and freed him from the ropes around his hands. They rushed towards each other.
“Dear gods,” Thomas whispered, his hands on Alastair’s cheeks. “I was so worried,” he said.
Alastair frowned but it didn’t quite work. He couldn’t scowl at Thomas.
“I should have been worried about you,” he said, his hands on Thomas’s arms. “You were captured by a murderers.”
Thomas just smiled and kissed Alastair. Light and short contact of their lips.
“I love you so much,” he whispered so only Alastair could hear him.
He opened his mouth to reply but didn’t have the opportunity.
Queen Charlotte entered the room.
The fight had died out. They had numerical advantage but the knight-traitors weren’t too much anyway. A knight had captured a girl - Martha, Alastair realized. She struggled in his grip but it was impossible to even move him. She took a deep breath and calmed down as the Queen stood in front of her. Amice and Reginald were next to the Queen. Berold was nearby too. Everyone was staring into the girl.
“Martha,” Charlotte said. She didn’t look angry but just… sad. “Why?”
The girl didn’t say anything. She looked up to Charlotte and just stared at her.
“You cut off the communication of my generals to their people,” she continued. “Tried to poison me. Took some of my knights for yourself,” she went silent, looking around her. “Why, Martha? You wanted power? Revenge? What?”
Martha looked away and slowly shook her head. “What a pointless question.”
Charlotte sighed. “Take her and the knights to the dungeons. Tomorrow morning we will discuss what to do with them-”
“Wait a second,” Thomas frowned. “Where is that guy-”
The shadows moved. Before Alastair could shout a warning a person stepped out of the dark - a pale boy with a dagger. He headed straight to the Queen. Amice saw him and reacted fast. But Berold was closer. He threw himself in front of the Queen just as the boy swinged with the dagger. Instead in the Queen’s body, the weapon bore into Berold’s.
“No!”
Panic exploded all over the people. Everyone was trying to either protect the Queen or get hold of the boy. Reginald was kneeling next to Berold, terror written on his face.
With the corner of his eye Alastair saw how a few knights caught the boy that tried to stab the Queen. He was slammed into the floor, screaming curses at them. Thomas grabbed Alastair's hand, more instinct than anything. Alastair squeezed it in response.
The chaos was overwhelming.
•
The next hour was a blur. Reginald was screaming for a doctor, Charlotte barked orders the traitors to be locked in the dungeons until she says otherwise and someone to find a healer immediately. Thomas, along with Alastair, Kamala, Grace and Christopher, were taken to a room with a big bed and told to wait there until it was sure they were out of danger.
Christopher immediately hugged Thomas. They stood like that for a long time. Thomas was shaking as he was telling how they met Grace and Kamala and their plan.
A little before he could finish, the door opened and the rest of his family was there. Sophie straight up hugged him, without muttering a word. His father grabbed him in a short but fierce hug. After he let go he stared in Thomas' face for a long time, tears forming in his eyes.
Gabriel and Cecily welcomed him just as warmly, hugging him too. Gabriel didn't try to hide the tears streaming down his face. He wasn't the only one. All of them were tearing up and hugging each other.
Someone told him Berold was going to be okay. He needed a lot of rest and his stomach was damaged but he was going to survive. The fire in the other wing of the palace was extinguished. The knights were patrolling around the whole place to make sure the threat was actually gone. They wanted to know how Thomas was in the palace and all that had happened to him in the time he was gone.
Thomas looked around. Alastair and Grace were in the other corner of the room, watching them. Alastair smiled at Thomas. Thomas knew he wanted to give him some privacy with the family he hasn't seen in so long. And Thomas loved him for this. But he wanted to share this happiness with the man he loved.
He kissed his mother's forehead.
“I will tell you everything,” he said. “But there’s something else first. I… Just wait a minute. I’ll be back in a second”
He walked to Alastair, smiling. He took his hands in his and kissed his knuckles.
“Do you want to meet my family?” Thomas said, then smiled. “Properly this time.”
Alastair looked at the crowd that was secretly staring at them.
“I would love to but… Are they going to like me?”
“They will love you,” Thomas said firmly. “And even if they don't - which is impossible - they will have to learn because I'm planning to be with you for a long, long time.”
Alastair laughed quietly, happily.
He kissed their clasped hands, his lips on Thomas fingers for a few long seconds.
“Alright,” he looked at Thomas, smiling. “I trust your word. Let’s meet your family.”
•
Words: 6 714
There's small SoC reference and a tiny one from Legally Blonde <3
This was the third and final part! I hope you enjoyed this sequel to the Tale of the Prince and the Servant!!
Thomastair Royal AU: Tale of the Prince and the Servant (can be skipped if you really want to)
•
~ Present ~
“Habeeb?” Alastair whispered with a hoarse voice. He didn’t dare to speak the language of this land, afraid the wrong person would hear him. This was intended only for one.
“Nafasam,” a raspy voice responded.
Alastair made himself stand and went to him. He fell on his knees next to Thomas’ bed. His lover tried to smile but Alastair could see how weak he was.
“How are you?” Alastair gently brushed the hair from his face.
“I...”’ Thomas took a deep breath. “I feel feeble,” he whispered.
Alastair took his hand and kissed his knuckles.
“You will get better soon,” he whispered. “The night is almost at its end. The sunrise will warm us.”
Thomas smiled faintly. “You can be such a poet.”
“Only for you.”
•
~ Past ~
Cecily looked exactly how Thomas remembered her. Sharp blue eyes, young face and black, shining hair. The same proud General she had always been. She scanned them with a suspicious, sharp look Thomas had seen before but never pointed at him. He had to remind himself he looked like a completely different person to his aunt.
Uncle Gabriel, however, was different. When Thomas last saw him he had just woken up, half of his face was covered in bandage and gauze, his skin brushed and with two broken ribs. He definitely was better now. Healther at least. There was a vicious scar across the left side of his face that continued down the neck and the chest.
Scars never worried Thomas, growing up with a mother that had one. Still, Gabriel's made him shiver. Not because he thought it's ugly. But because it was a painful reminder how Thomas - how all of them - had been a thread away from losing another family member that day.
Then he saw his parents. It was like a punch in the gut, a twist in his stomach. There wasn't any significant change in their appearances. His mother still had the same haircut, his father was wearing his old medals on his shirt. But he could see the wrinkles between their eyes, around their months and new heaviness in their shoulders.
He was reminded that they didn't lose just Barbara back then. In a way, they had lost Thomas too.
Thomas had dealt with the guilt long ago. Or at least he thought he had. He was always telling himself it was his life and he could do whatever he wanted to be happy. To feel better, to feel something different from the pain and sorrow that followed in the long weeks after Barbara's death and the sleeping Gabriel who they weren't sure would survive.
But looking at Sophie and Gideon now, the old guilt grabbed him from the inside and started playing with his organs.
“Your Majesty,“ Sophie smiled at them. At Alastair more specifically. “It's an honour for us.”
Charlotte smiled at her guests. “I'll leave you in the hands of my most trusted advisers. Excuse me.”
The queen left the room, accompanied by the servant Martha and a few guards.
“Please, sit,” said Gabriel. “The preparation of your rooms will take a while.”
The four of them sat back on the couch. Cecily stood next to the door, the rest of the Lightwoods sat in front of them.
“Tell me,” Gideon smiled at them. “What are a young prince and his companions doing so far from home?”
“It's sort of a coming of age journey,” Alastair said. Thomas couldn't see his face. He wanted to hold his hand.
He had been perfect with his role so far. It remained Thomas of the person Alastair was at the palace.
Alastair told the Lightwoods the story they had come up with. Kamala, Grace and Thomas were Alastair's closest and most trusted friends. They had wanted to travel and experience the world and see different cultures.
They liked their story. Or at least believed it. After a while they were told their rooms were ready and the Lightwoods accompanied them.
Gabriel was walking in front of them, leading, while Gideon and Sophie chatted with them. Cecily was behind. Thomas felt a little uneasy. It couldn't be more obvious they didn't trust them.
The rooms they were shown to were two pairs, each one connected to the other. Alastair and Thomas took one pair, and Grace and Kamala - the other.
Thomas waited a few minutes, making sure his family had left them alone. Then he opened the door inside his room and went to Alastair.
He was walking around the room restlessly, anxiety written all over his face.
He looked up at Thomas, relaxing a bit.
“Did we do well?” he asked.
“I think so,” Thomas said. “We can ask the girls in the morning but I would say it's all good.”
“Okay,” Alastair said, unbuttoning his shirt. “This is nice.”
“Hey,” Thomas said gently and took his hands, kissing his knuckles. “Are you okay?”
Alastair sighed and looked away. “I just… Never thought I would have to be a prince again.”
Thomas finished unbuttoning his shirt for him and took it off his shoulders. He made Alastair sit on the bed and opened the closet.
“I’m sorry you have to do it again,” Thomas said and he was sinerce. He knew how hard it was on Alastair to pretend, back then in the palace and here. He was never comfortable as a prince.
“It’s alright,” he said, his back hitting the bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just for a few weeks. I hope.”
Thomas turned to him. “Here,” he said. “Wear this.”
Alastair lazily got up, letting Thomas dress him up. He followed his movement, his eyes suddenly serios.
“What about you?” he asked quietly.
“What about me?” Thomas shot him a smile.
But Alastair was silent. He was watching Thomas’ face, his gaze so intense Thomas couldn’t return it.
He sighed. Stopped butting up Alastair's shirt and ran a hand through his own hair. “I… don’t want to talk about it. It’s too much.”
“Okay,” Alastair said softly.
Horrible feeling bloomed in his chest.
“I’m sorry I-”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Alastair took his face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize to me.”
Thomas smiled faintly. “Sorry for-”
Alastair shut him up with a kiss.
Thomas let himself be dragged into the bed next to him. He buried his fingers into Alastair’s hair and wrapped an arm around him.
“Stay with me tonight,” Alastair murmured against his lips.
“Okay,” Thomas said with a smile on his own. “But I need to get some clothes from my closet first-”
Mischievous smile appeared on Alastair’s face. He started unbuttoning Thomas’ shirt. “You won’t need them.”
•
The next morning Alastair woke up because of someone knocking on the door. Very insistently.
Thomas was sleeping next to him. He was lying on his belly, his back an endless field of smooth skin with a few scars. He had his face turned to Alastair. Alastair was warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to get up.
“Janan,” Thomas murmured. “Who is it?”
Alastair immediately softened, hearing Thomas saying it. Especially like this. Almost asleep, unthinking - just an instinct. It was good to hear his language again.
With a murmur he got up, searching his surroundings for clothes. As he pulled on pants, he realized something. He turned. Thomas’ face. It was his own.
“What…?” he muttered, still half asleep and confused.
“The damn potion,” Alastair said desperately. The fucking knocking wouldn’t stop. “Thomas, someone is knocking, they will see you!”
Thomas’ immediately opened his eyes. He was wide awake now. He jumped off the bed.
“Damn it,” he whispered fiercely as he picked his clothes from the floor. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
Alastair was looking at the door every two seconds. It was locked but this couldn’t stop his anxiety.
Thomas quickly left, through the door that connected their rooms. Alastair couldn’t even appreciate his naked lover properly.
Alastair opened the door, more aggressively than he intended.
“What?” he said, sounding peevish and annoyed even to himself.
In front of him was standing tall, ginger guy whose eyes curiously looked over Alastair’s shoulder. To see if there was someone in his bed, no doubt.
He smiled at Alastair and he wasn’t even faking it.
“Good morning, your highness,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sir Benji and I’ll be a guide for you and your companions while you’re here. I thought we may go for a quick walk before breakfast.”
Alastair didn’t miss the sword he was carrying on his cross. Or the badge on his sacristy that shows his status as a knight. He wasn’t just here to show them around. He was here to keep an eye on them.
“The sun has barely risen,” Alastair through gritted teeth.
“It’s already high in the sky,” he replied with the same annoying, sunny smile. “It’s up to us to follow it.”
What does this even mean?, Alastair thought.
“We need some time beforehand,” he said out aloud. “My friends may not be up.”
“Oh, I’m sure at least one of them is awake,” he grinned.
Alastair shut the door in his face.
Fifteen minutes later the four of them were in the royal gardens. Benji didn’t seem to mind the waiting or the delay. He was a never ending ball of sunshine and smiles. Alastair despised it.
At least he didn’t have to pretend he was seeing the place for the first time, unlike his friends who were raised here. Benji was talking about rare flowers and which days the book club’s meetings were. There was a fountain in the middle of it, at which they stopped. Alastair was smelling some flowers nerby Thomas. He wanted to sit next to him, to hold his hands but didn’t dare.
Kamala took some bread to feed the ducks and Grace sat on the edge of the fountain, enjoying the sun. Her eyes never stopped moving around, careful who was watching them.
“So,” Benji said. “Are you any good with the sword?”
Alastair frowned and looked at him. He had been quiet so far. But his words weren't directed at Alastair.
He was talking to Thomas.
•
“Um,” Thomas said. “Kind of. I'm decent enough, I think.”
Benji smiled at him. Thomas knew this smile very well. The sole purpose of it was to charm.
“Oh, really?” Benii said. He was sitting next to Thomas. They weren’t touching but Benji was sitting close enough. “I would love to have a sparring with you some time,” he put a hand on the bench behind Thomas and said, with a lowered voice and a raised eyebrow. “I can teach you some things. One or two that only a knight would know.”
With the corner of his eye he saw how Alastair's hands clenched into fists.
“This is really kind of you,” Thomas smiled nervously, clearing his throat. He was starting to sweat. “But… um…”
He was trying to come up with an excuse but his mind was empty. They were stuck here for weeks, with nothing to do but look around and read books. He didn’t have anything better to do.
“If you don't like this idea,” Benji said. “We can go on a picnic. There's an amazing place, just at the garden's corner. A gazebo that is quite cozy and-”
“Shouldn't we go already?”
Alastair was standing in front of them, his expression hard as a stone, with crossed arms in front of his chest.
Benji blinked at him and stood up, his usual smile back. “If you want, your highness.”
Kamala eyed them, raising an eyebrow at Thomas. He shrugged helplessly.
“We already went around half of the garden,” Benji said. “The rest isn’t that interesting and part of it is reserved for the royal family.”
“I see,” Alastair said. “Let’s walk then.”
“As you wish,” Benji smiled brightly.
•
Alastair wanted to knock the teeth out of his mouth.
Benji wouldn’t shut up about flowers and the history of every object they passed. He seemed immune to heat and tiresome.
“Oh, right there,” he said. “My favourite spot. The playground.”
A few kids were there, playing in the sand, laughing. Benji looked at them with a soft smile.
“Why is it your favourite?” Kamala asked. She sounded genuinely curious.
“I have good memories here,” Benji shot her a smile. “I played with the Lightwoods kids in this very place. I’m still good friends with some of them.”
“Really?” Alastair said. This was the first thing that caught his attention since the beginning of the walk. “Can we meet them?”
Benji was silent a second too long. “Maybe some of them, yes,” he said. For the first time his smile faded a little.
Alastair couldn’t stop himself. He knew he was being an asshole. Thomas would be so mad at him.
“I heard General Gideon has a son,” he said. “That is an excellent swordfighter. Can we meet him?”
Benji stopped abdurbly and looked at him, startled. He gazed at Alastair’s eyes, for the first time really looking at him.
Then he laughed. “Someone did their homework, didn’t they?”
They started walking again. Alastair caught Thomas’ glare behind Benji’s shoulder. He looked away. Oh, he would be in trouble later.
“If you’re curious,” Benji said. “His name is Thomas,” he smiled. A smile reserved only for people dear to you. “He is indeed good with the sword. But I didn’t think he’s that famous. Or at least not more famous than me,” he winked at Thomas saying this.
He. Winked. At. Him.
Alastair filled with an ugly feeling, burning sensation in the chest or stomach. His jaw hurted by clenching his teeth so hard.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said sharply. He had to remind himself Benji had no idea that was the same Thomas he was talking about. “Will we meet them?”
Benji shot him a quick look. “Unfortunately, no. Not all of them. Some of them… are not here. Thomas, for example, is… well, he is not in the palace,” sadness creeped into his voice.
“I see,” Alastair said, looking straight ahead of him.
He dared to glance at Thomas for a second. He was looking at the ground, his hands behind his back.
“How about we go back for breakfast?” Benji suggested. His usual sunny attitude was back.
“Sounds good,” Alastair said neutrally.
•
Thomas closed the door to his room and locked it.
He started to undress, not bothering to fold the clothes. He grabbed the shirt he was sleeping with and he pulled it over his shoulders.
All day Benji was with them. They didn’t have a second to breathe, couldn’t even go to the damn toilet without him checking you in thirty seconds. He couldn’t talk with Alastair.
A soft knock came from the door that his and Alastair’s rooms shared.
“Come in,” Thomas said without hiding the emotion from his voice. It was mostly anger. And a little hurt.
Alastair came in, quietly closing the door after himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said straight ahead.
Thomas lowered his head. His back was still to Alastair.
“This was shitty, Alas.”
“I know,” he said and Thomas heard how he made a step closer.
“You could have asked me,” Thomas said, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I would have told you everything. About Benji, the palace. What was that about?”
Alastair took a deep breath and held it in. “I just don’t like him, okay? He is annoying.”
“Bullshit,” Thomas snapped. “I know you. This isn’t a good enough reason for you.”
Alastair’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace.
“It wasn’t right to ask like that,” he said. “I’m sorry. I guess part of me wanted to see how other people view you.”
Thomas didn’t say anything. He looked away. “I should go to bed.”
“No, wait-” Alastair shortened the distance between them and grabbed his arm.
“If you won’t tell me the truth, there is no point-”
“I was jealous, okay?” Alastair yelled. “He is this childhood friend with whom you played and trained, knowing for years, and are apparently close with even as a grown ups, and who flirts with you shamelessly even when he has no idea it’s actually you-” he stopped absurdly. He turned away, letting go of Thomas. “Part of me felt insecure and he is so obviously into you that…” he took a deep breath and said, quieter. “I got scared that now, as you are back home and meet all your family and friends you will… you will… nevermind.”
“Wait,” Thomas took his arm. He gently turned him so he could look at his face. “I assure you, you have nothing, nothing, to be jealous of.”
Alastair looked at him. His dark eyes were a sky Thomas could lose himself into.
“I love you,” he whispered. “You are the air I breathe. To be apart from you would be as painful as cutting off my very flesh,” he took Alastair’s hand and kissed it lightly, tenderly. “You are my heart, Alastair. I could never look at someone else when you’re here. It’s just impossible.”
He added, after a second of hesitation. “Benji’s flirting… It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. I have seen it countless times. He charms his lovers this way but it’s rarely something more for him. Believe me, I’m not special.”
Alastair exhaled.
“Okay,” he said. He squeezed Thomas’ hand. He looked up at him. “Can I spend the night with you?”
Thomas smiled. “Please.”
Alastair kissed him quickly, and against his lips whispered, “I love you too.”
Thomas’ heart melted in his chest.
Alastair turned away, and walked to the door to get some clothes for sleeping. When he opened it, he turned and said, “I still hate the ginger though.”
Thomas couldn’t help his laugh, even when Alastair went to the other room.
•
Almost two weeks have passed since they were in the palace. They didn’t meet almost anyone else besides Benji and sometimes Gabriel or Sophie. They get to know a gardener that they passed every morning on their way to the garden. An older woman that served them their meals that every time looked like she wanted to poison them. A messenger boy and a few knights who were friends with Benji also stopped by.
Their interactions with people were pretty limited. Grace seemed stressed and sleep-dehydrated. Thomas suspected she was going out during the night to do her own investigation. They tried to ask her a few times but she wouldn’t say anything. Kamala seemed wary.
“I have a bad feeling,” she said. “Grace shouldn’t do this.”
Thomas couldn’t agree more. He had plans to talk her out of it. Or at least to talk with them about what she was doing.
The morning though Thomas felt unusually tired. The heat wasn’t that bad and they even skipped the walk before breakfast. Why was he so worn out? He felt like sleeping had drowned the energy out of his body instead of giving it.
Even when they sat to eat this feeling didn’t pass. He could barely make it past the main dish. In fact, he didn’t. A little before the dessert was served, he stood up.
“Excuse me,” he said breathily. “I’m not feeling well.”
Alastair looked at him immediately, not even trying to hide the worry on his face.
Before Thomas left the room, he saw how he whispered something to Grace, both looking after him.
He opened the door to his room, not bothering to close it after himself. He knew Grace would come soon.
He took off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt and practically collapsed into the bed. He felt feverish and cold, his head heavy.
“Tom?” Grace’s voice reached his ears.
“I’m fine,” he croaked with closet eyes. “Just... just need some sleep.”
He heard how she moved around his room.
“Thomas?” She was next to him now. He felt her cold hand on his forehead. “Oh gods, you have a fever.”
More movement, some worried murmur and he felt cold hands against his face again.
“Thomas,” she said, her voice rough. He opened his eyes. She was looking down at him, worried. “It’s the stupid potion.”
“What?” he blinked.
“The potion,” she sounded on the edge of tears. “Fuck, Tom. The side effects was-”
“I…”
“Where is your bottle?”
“The nightstand,” he said. He could barely keep his eyes open. “The drawer.”
Grace opened it and grabbed it, turning it around her hands, looking for the label.
“Listen and tell me if something of this sounds familiar,” she said. And started to read.
Thomas was listening through a fog in his mind.
“Wait,” his eyes snapped open. “The previous one.”
Grace’s eyes moved above. “Can bring back past illness while the potion is consumed.”
“That’s it,” Thomas exhaled. “When I was a child I was sick. In puberty I got through it. That must be it.”
Grace squeezed her eyes. “That’s my fault,” she said with a raw voice. “I brought it. I suggested it. We should have read the damn side effects-”
“Hey, hey,” Thomas took her hand in his. “Even if we did, we still would have drank it. It’s the best we had.”
Grace took a shaky breath and blinked furiously. Her eyes were dry now and her hands were steady as she squeezed his. “We should tell Kamala and Alastair.”
“Yeah,” Thomas said, barely hearing his own voice. “We should…”
•
When he opened his eyes again he saw Alastair staring into him intensely.
He tried to smile. “Hey.”
Alastair closed his eyes. His knuckles whitened as he grabbed the handles of the chair he was sitting on. “Jigaram,” Alastair’s voice broke.
“It will be okay,” Thomas whispered. “I’ll get better when I stop drinking it. It’s not fatal. I’ll be fine.”
Alastair took a shaky breath and nodded. He gently took Thomas’ hand and kissed his fingers and knuckles, his palm and the point of the pulse of the wrist. He held on his hand a few seconds more and cautiously put it down on the bed.
“Kamala brought you some food,” he said. “The lunch finished a while ago.”
“Really?” Thomas blinked. “I… I must have slept for a few hours then.”
“Yes,” Alastair said. “Three hours and a half to be exact.”
“Oh,” he just said. He hadn’t slept that much during the day since he was a kid.
“Here,” Alastair pointed at the nightstand that was laden with food.
Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Remind me to thank Kamala later.”
•
Kamala and Grace visited them later that day.
Thomas hugged Kamala for the food. Checked if Grace was alright.
Alastair was seeing it all through a fog. The beating of his heart was loud in his ears.
“What are we going to do now?” The three of them looked at him. “About-” his voice croaked. “About the potion.”
There was a short silence.
“I can keep drinking it-”
“No,” Kamala snapped. Alastair opened his month to do the same but she was faster. “Your health isn’t a game. What if you drink it for long it becomes permanent? What if someone recognizes the sickness and finds out who you really are?”
“What other choices do we have?” Thomas said with a grimace. “If I stop, everyone will know. I can’t hide in this room forever. If they find out I’m unwell, they’d send a doctor,” he shook his head.
Grace stood up from her seat. “The potion effect will last for the whole day and night,” she said, tightening fists. “We have some time to decide. We should let Tom rest now.”
Kamala nodded, biting her lower lip. “You’re right,” she stood up as well. She smiled at Thomas. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
He nodded with a tired smile.
She looked at Alastair and said quietly, only for him to hear. “Don’t stay up late to look after him,” she squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t want to get yourself sick and worry him, do you?”
“Don’t gaslight me,” he murmured.
“This is not what gaslighting means,” Kamala smiled and let go of him. She and Grace left the room, leaving them alone.
Alastair looked at his lover. Thomas looked pale but his cheeks were flushed. His movements implied tiredness he had never seen in Thomas before.
“Will you stay with me?”
Alastair kissed his forehead and whispered. “What a stupid question.”
He gently lifted the blanket. Thomas moved aside to make room for him. Alastair could see what physical effort it cost him.
“No need to move,” Alastair whispered. “Lean on me.”
“Are you sure?” Thomas hesitated. “I may be too heavy-”
“I’m sure,” Alastair interrupted him.
Thomas was too tired to argue. He laid his head on Alastair’s shoulder, his arm on his chest. His whole body relaxed against Alastair.
“I love you,” he whispered in his shoulder.
Alastair’s heart skipped a beat.
Instead of answering he kissed the top of his head. He gently started to stroke his back, whispering words of comfort. Soft tales, told in the language of his own land that only Thomas could understand here. When he felt Thomas falling asleep Alastair buried his fingers in his lover’s hair and closed his eyes too.
It took him a long time to fall asleep.
•
Alastair woke up from a loud noise outside the room. It sounded like screams.
It was night, he noticed. The moon that could clearly be seen through the windows was shining softly. Thomas was still sleeping next to him, a little frown was forming between his eyes.
Alastair carefully moved Thomas away from himself and stood up. Barefoot, he crossed the room and opened the door. On his left, where Kamala and Grace’s rooms were, three knights were standing, two women and a man. One of the women was holding Grace on the floor.
“Hey!” Alastair yelled before he could think about it and ran towards them. “Let her go!”
They turned to him. The woman that didn’t hold his friend shooted, “Hold him!”
The other knight headed towards Alastair. He took a step back. The other man grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back and pushed him against the wall. His grib wasn’t rough but it was strong. He tried to fight but it was useless. He was almost as tall as Thomas, a trained knight. Alastair felt like he was fighting against a stone.
Another female knight came out of Alastair’s own room. He blinked. “Nothing,” she said.
“Search his companions’ room,” said the woman who was apparently in charge. “And arrest them if somebody is inside.”
“What are you doing?” Alastair yelled. “We have done nothing wrong!”
The woman looked at him, her eyes hard. “You are under arrest for the possession of the potion "new life, new home".”
He saw how Grace’s eyes widened, mirroring his own surprise. He remembered how Grace talked about someone who sells something that “gives you new life” and can “give you a new home”. They thought the city was a dead end. The same one where they met Thomas and Alastair and from which they have brought the potion they were getting arrested for right now. Grace and Kamala had been on the right track after all.
“Here,” the knight came out of his room, holding Thomas’ bottle.
“Wasn’t anyone inside?”
“No,” she shook her head.
The woman turned back to Alastair, his eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”
“I…” Alastair’s mouth was dry. The wall was cold against his chest. He shivered.
A move behind the knight holding Grace caught his eye. Kamala. She was holding a knife. Faster than he imagined she could move, she hit the knight holding Grace with the handle of the knife. She collapsed on the floor. Grace stood up, breathing hard.
The woman took out her sword, long and shining in the dark, her lips pressed together. Kamala and Grace took a step back. A girl with a knife and one with no weapon at all couldn’t match a trained knight.
“Let them go,” came a quiet voice from behind them. Thomas.
He was holding a sword himself. The woman that searched his room was on the floor, her body leaned against the wall. This was probably her sword.
The woman looked between Thomas and the girls, her whole body tensed.
“They have done nothing wrong to this queendom,” he said, and repeated, “Let them go.”
The knight holding Alastair said, his voice unsure, “Amice…”
“Do not let him go, Reginald” the woman named Amice said through gritted teeth.
Before someone could say anything more they heard loud steps, dozens, getting closer. Benji appeared behind the corner, at least a dozen of knights following him. For a second Alastair had hope everything was going to be alright, that it was a misunderstanding… This hope vanished when he saw his hard expression. It was the first time he had ever seen Benji that serious.
Thomas had frozen. His pose was uncertain. He slowly turned to them.
The knights stopped in front of them. Benji stared at Thomas’ face. There was no trace of flirtation or playfulness. Just a bit of sadness.
Thomas lifted his sword but hesitated mid-action. He pulled back slightly, taking a shaky breath. His hand slowly opened, letting go of the weapon. The sword made a loud noise as it hit the ground.
Benji glanced quickly around, taking in the whole scene.
Finally, he straightened his back, looking straight ahead of him.
“Alastair Carstairs,” he announced. “You and your companions are under arrest for possession of a forbidden potion, lying about one’s identity, spying, resisting arrest, attacking and injuring knights and suspicion of participation in a conspiracy against Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.”
Thomas looked terrified. Kamala and Grace too. Everything was a fog in front of Alastair’s eyes.
“Mabel,” Benji nodded at the girl next to him. Alastair recognized her as one of Benji’s knight-friends that had stopped by.
She, along with other knights, stepped forward, surrounding them. She grabbed Thomas and did similar thing to what had been done to Alastair. But this time Thomas didn’t resist and she didn’t slam him against the wall or the floor.
“Someone, send a note to General Cecily immediately,” Benji shouted. He turned and started to walk away. “Put the prisoners in the dungeon until further notice.”
•
To be continued...
Words: 5 860
Dictionary
habeeb - a beloved, a lover
nafasam - my breath
jigaram - my liver
Tale of Knights and Secrets, part I || sequel to the Thomastair Royal AU
part i | part ii | part iii |
AO3 | masterlist
Thomastair Royal AU: Tale of the Prince and the Servant (this can be skipped if you really want to)
This is a really special gift (that took really really long time) for a really really REALLY special person - @wheelershara SUN, IT TOOK ME SOME TIME BUT HERE YOU GO, BESTIE! I hope you like it <3
•
~ Present ~
Alastair could feel the wind on his face. Smell the sea. Feel the subtle splashes of the water on his skin.
He looked next to him and Thomas smiled at him. Then looked at the sea and laughed, smiling with closed eyes. He was beautiful.
Alastair looked at the bright blue sky and smiled, closing his eyes too. Simple happiness. Simple things. He didn’t need more.
Then he fell backwards, darkness covered him and the dream broke.
Alastair slowly opened his eyes, giving himself time to adjust to the light. He sighed.
He was still in prison.
•
~ Past ~
Thomas smiled as Alastair was scowling at the cat, who was meowing at them.
“Such a greedy and insolent creature,” he said with a dark expression and threw a piece of bread at it. The cat meowed happily and began to eat its new food.
This was the third time they have seen the cat. And they knew it was the same because of the white almost heart shaped mark on its face.
Thomas had named it Bee. Alastair had named it annoying.
Alastair caught him looking at him and rolled his eyes. Thomas grinned.
“Anyway,” he said, looking at the papers in his hand. “Any luck?”
“Actually,” Thomas said. “Yes. I saw an ad for… this tavern,” after he found it he handed it to Alastair. His eyes moved on the paper as he took it, an excitement slowly building up.
“That’s great!” Alastair looked at him with shining eyes. “Let’s go there.”
In less than an hour they were at the tavern. A small place with a friendly owner with warm brown eyes who was missing two fingers on his left hand and every time told a different story on how it happened.
“Hello, fellas,” he greeted them as they entered. He was behind the bar, cleaning the countertop. It was still noon so the place was empty. There was only a little girl sitting on a table, playing with a few cards. “You here about the job, yes?”
“That’s right,” Thomas said. Alastair nodded. They approached him and sat on the chairs in front of the bar. The girl said something to the owner in a language Thomas didn’t recognize. The man replied something shortly and turned to them with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, lads, my granddaughter is a little sick today, ” he said. “I need to check on her.”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas said. “We are in no hurry.”
The man came from around the counter. He kneed in front of her, telling her something with a gentle smile. The little girl seemed pale and unhealthy but she smiled at her grandfather and nodded.
Alastair turned to him. “Do you think we can-”
The sound of numerous steps coming closer and closer distracted Thomas. They both turned to the door, Alastair stopped talking. The owner also frowned at it. They heard shouts. A few seconds later a man stormed into the tavern and slammed the doors closed after himself. He was holding a sword. Alastair and Thomas jumped from their seats. The owner hid the girl behind his body.
“No one move!” he screamed, his pale eyes frantically looking around. He was talking with an accent that revealed he was not from here. He was skinny and sweaty, his hair was blonde and dirty. The hand holding the sword was trembling. “No one move,” he repeated, even though none of them did anything.
His breathing was hard, his eyes frantic.
“Fella,” the owner said, his voice calm. “What do you want?”
“Keep quiet, old man,” he snapped. “No one moves and we all will leave this place in one piece.”
He slowly passed by Thomas and Alastair, suspiciously looking at Thomas. He had decided he’s the biggest threat. He came behind the bar, glancing at Thomas once in a while. He was searching, probably for money.
Thomas tried to look for something he could use as a weapon. He crossed eyes with Alastair. He could see he was thinking something similar.
“If we jump at him together,” he whispered, so quietly Thomas could barely hear him. “We can overpower him.”
“Okay,” Thomas said, barely a murmur. “I’ll take his left side-”
At that moment the owner appeared, holding a sword himself and jumped at the thief. But the stranger was faster. He turned just in time to meet his sword with the old man’s. He quickly disarmеd him.
“What are you doing, oldster?!” he shouted at him. “Do you want to get hurt? To get killed?! Why would you do that?!” Thomas thought he’s on the edge of tears.
While the blonde man continued to scream at the owner Thomas slowly, very slowly, moved towards the sword on the floor. Three, two steps… Thomas grabbed the sword.
The man turned to him, his eyes wild. Thomas stepped forward, a calmness he hasn’t felt in years washed over him. Metal met metal. Desperation filled the thief’s face. After a few moves he could see Thomas was no stranger to sword fighting.
It didn’t take long. The man was good. Surprisingly good, considering his trembling. But Thomas was better.
Seconds later the blonde's sword hit the floor. A few guards stormed into the tavern.
“That’s him!” a female guard shouted. Two others headed towards him and grabbed his arms, yanking him towards the door. After he was outside, the female guard turned to them. “Is everyone alright?”
“Yes,” the owner said. He was hugging his granddaughter who was trembling. He kissed the top of her head and looked at Thomas, an awe in his eyes. “This young man saved us! When this awful man tried to rob my tavern and threatened me, he bravely stepped in and disarmed him!”
The guard turned to him and with a hint of embarrassment he realized he’s still in combat position. He relaxed and carefully left the sword on the counter. He smiled sheepishly. “Just the right timing. Nothing so heroic.”
The guard smiled. “Come to the royal garden some time. The guards train there. We’ll see if you’re that good and if we can do something about it,” she said. She turned to the owner, nodding respectfully. “Uncle, call us if you have any trouble.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” he said, still a little shaken up but smiling.
The guard left and the old man turned to them. “Still want the job, young men?”
Thomas hesitated what to say but Alastair stepped in. “Yes.”
“Excellent!” He smiled wider and gently put the little girl on a chair, whispering something to her. He looked at them again. “Let’s start then!”
•
The rest of the day Thomas and Alastair couldn’t find time to talk. The owner, whose name they found out is Armin, was training them all afternoon until the evening.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “After sunset. We will open then.”
They said their goodbyes and left the tavern. The little girl waved at them. They didn’t exchange a single word but it seems she liked them.
Alastair had so many questions. He couldn’t wait to get home so he and Thomas could talk. He could tell Thomas’ moves with the sword weren’t ordinary. There was skill and familiarity. An old habit. There was grace and confidence that Alastair had never seen before in him. His lover had more secrets than Alastair imagined.
They arrived at the small building where they rented a room from a sulky woman with strict rules. Alastair didn’t mind. It kept the building clean and quiet.
When they entered their room, Thomas took a deep breath and turned to him. “I can explain.”
Alastair blinked. He almost smiled but resisted because of how worried Thomas looked. “I’m not mad.”
Thomas relaxed a bit. “Really?”
“No,” this time he couldn’t help himself and grinned. “I mean, my lover is an awesome sword fighter, saved us all from some asshole, was super hot while doing it and on top of that is adorably unaware how much effect it has on me.”
Thomas shook his head, embarrassment written all over it.
“Why would I be mad?” he continued. “Oh, yes! Because this same lover obviously hid something huge from me that was important to him.” Thomas’ expression slowly returned to the worried one, “But you know what? I’m not mad as I probably should be because I’m a reasonable man who doesn't want to worry his lover even more.”
There was a small smile on Thomas’ lips. “Lies,” he said. “You just think it’s hot.”
“This certainly helps,” Alastair admitted.
They watched each other for a few seconds and broke into smiles. Thomas looked away, rubbing the back of the neck and Alastair watched him with amusement. He stepped closer to him and gently took his hands in his. He kissed Thomas’ knuckles and just held them.
“Really, Tom,” he whispered. “What was that?”
Thomas signed. “Let's change first, okay?”
In the next twenty minutes they showered and changed to more comfortable clothes they wore only at home.
Alastair occasionally looked at Thomas. He looked troubled and absent. Alastair felt a little bad. Maybe he could leave it be. If Thomas looked so anxious, was it worth it going through this conversation? But he rejected the thought. Sometimes hard conversations were needed. He needed to know what was going on Thomas' head. He had to know about his past.
Thomas sat on the bed, crossed legs, each foot under the opposite knee. Alastair took a chair from the table and faced him, leaning on the backrest.
Thomas was looking at the floor. He laughed nervously. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Tell me how you learned to fight,” Alastair suggested softly.
Thomas looked at the window then. And he began.
“Once, I was a knight,” Thomas said. “When I was seventeen I graduated on top of the class - one of the first three. I wanted to serve the royal family and become a knight like my father. He’s the captain of an elite guard that serves and protects the royal family. There was nothing more I wanted than to become a knight and be Christopher’s bodyguard. He’s one of my best friends and my cousin, godson of the king.”
Alastair noticed how he’s talking in past tense. “What changed?” he whispered.
Thomas took a deep breath.
“We were out to celebrate my little cousin’s birthday,” he said, quietly. “Only family and a few close friends were there. But in the middle of it, we were attacked. We tried to protect the ones who couldn’t fight - the birthday boy, Alexander, who was only three years old, Christopher, my mother, a few other guests. And of course Queen Charlotte and King Henry. It happened in such a way that my big sister and I were partners in the battle. She didn’t have the same training as me but as children of the guard’s captain we knew how to hold a sword from a young age. It was chaos. She… Barbara was stabbed. In an attempt to protect her fiancé, Oliver, who died from his wounds a few hours later. One another guest, Jesse, was also slayed, trying to protect his sister, Grace.”
Thomas took a deep, shaking breath. Alastair wanted to hug him but knew the story wasn’t finished. Thomas continued.
“We never found out who was behind the attack. Months of investigation and none of us found even the slightest lead that could provide answers. We have only rumours,” Alastair could see how frustrated and bitter Thomas was over this. He silently took Thomas' hand in his and squeezed. Thomas squeezed in return. “After this… I felt like a failure. Everyone was sad or angry, or both. I couldn’t look at a sword because it reminded me of her. Everything hurted. I felt like an open wound.”
“I decided to leave. I took the money I had been saving over the years, left a note saying they don’t need to worry about me or search for me. I couldn’t live like that anymore. This place became a house of ghosts and sorrows. It has been a few years since then. I send them letters now and then, to let them know I'm alive and well.”
Thomas shrugged. He looked at Alastair and blinked a few times to chase the tears away.
Alastair stood up. Thomas took a shaky breath and Alastair sat next to him, hugging him. Thomas buried his face in Alastair’s neck.
“Alas,” he whispered with a hoarse voice.
“I’m here,” Alastair said, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll never leave your side.”
They ended up lying in the bed. With his head on Alastair’s chest, he could tell when Thomas dozed off. His sleep was restless, a frown on his face. Alastair gently stroked his hair, wishing he could do more.
Alastair fell asleep many hours later, Thomas’ tale echoing in his mind.
•
“What a chilly evening,” Armin said cheerfully as Thomas, Alastair and a few other people walked around, working. Alastair had never thought there was so much work in a tavern. Armin had shown them the basics the other day but he was still unprepared for all the little tasks that had to be done. The table had to be cleaned from the dust, the alcohol should be put out of the basement, the glasses had to be washed up, the food products checked out - the list was endless.
They were the newbies. As they came, Armin introduced them to the rest of the staff and put them to work.
Alastair was watching Thomas with the corner of his eye. He was at the bar, talking with a girl from the other employees. She laughed at something he said and shook her head with a smile.
Alastair was glad to see his lover smiling. After last night he was worried Thomas would be haunted by bad memories or regret he told Alastair his story.
“Yo!” a brunet guy threw an apron at him. Alastair caught it. “We’re the waiters for the first shift. I’ll be teaching you.”
Time moves fast when you’re busy. The tavern had more clients than he expected. Apparently it had been closed for a while because Armin had to travel for the wedding of one of his sons. He found out the only family he had in the city were his daughter, her husband and their child, the little girl.
Alastair was fascinated by all the stories and gossip he heard. Even as his shift as a waiter was over and he took Thomas’ place in the bar, he heard so much. The most curious thing for him was the whispered gossip about two pretty girls, new in town, who were searching for something. Or somebody. Alastair could tell they didn’t care that much but did it for the sake of the gossip.
Alastair looked at Thomas who was just starting his own shift as a waiter. Their eyes met and Thomas grinned. Alastair smiled in return.
•
“Our turn, big guy,” said a short girl while putting an apron on. Thomas already had one. He turned his gaze away from Alastair to look at her. “Get one of these,” she said, grabbing a pencil and a small notebook. “There aren’t many people now. The hours of the morning are lazy during the weekdays.”
Thomas came to realize she wasn’t wrong. There were a few regular clients that came to chat with Armin more than anything. It was nice. Thomas hated crowds so he loved the quiet, slow atmosphere.
His shift was almost over so he started to collect and wash the dishes. Almost half of the staff had already left and Alastair and Thomas were almost done for the night too.
Thomas was cleaning a table when he accidentally stumbled upon someone.
“I’m so sorry, I-” Thomas stopped mid sentence. Widened pale grey eyes were staring back at him, as surprised as him.
“Grace?” he whispered.
“Thomas,” she uttered. She put her hand in front of her month. Then she jumped and hugged him, her hands surprisingly strong. He wrapped his arms around her and memories washed over him. Tears filled his eyes.
When they let go of each other Grace wiped away the tears rolling down her face. She laughed.
“Good gods! We have a lot to talk about. A lot.”
“We have,” Thomas smiled. “We really have.”
He looked at Armin who was talking with someone at the bar. Alastair was watching them with a questioning look.
“I’m working right now,” Thomas said. “How about we meet after ten minutes? My shift is almost over.”
“You work in a tavern?” Grace said with astonishment.
Thomas snorted. “Not the worst job I have had.”
Grace looked at him, really looked. “We have so, so much to talk about indeed.”
•
With glossy eyes but a big smile on his face Thomas approached Alastair on the bar.
“What’s going on?” he asked. He didn't know what to think as he watched how Thomas and the girl hugged like they were old friends.
“This… this is Grace,” Thomas said, sounding like he couldn't believe it himself. “Do you remember when I mentioned her?”
Alastair nodded. The girl whose brother got killed in the same attack as Thomas’ sister.
“We have never been that close but she’s one of Christopher’s best friends,” he said. “It was so good to see her...” Alastair smiled at Thomas’ warm expression. He could tell he had missed her. “We agreed we’ll talk after I’m done with work.”
“You probably have a lot to catch up on,” Alastair said, smiling. He added, unsure. “I can wait for you if...”
“Actually,” Thomas said. “I… Do you want to come with me?” he smiled sheepishly. “I want the people that are important to me to know each other.”
Alastair’s smile was big when he answered. “I would love to.”
They said goodbye to Armin and the few members of the staff that were left for the morning shift. Thomas was searching for Grace in the room but she was nowhere to be seen. They left the tavern. The morning was warm with a cool breeze that made the weather feel a little more chill than it actually was. The sun hasn’t risen yet.
Alastair spotted the girl - Grace - not far away from the tavern, looking at the sky. She was wearing a hat this time that was hiding her hair under it. She looked at them and Thomas smiled.
They approached her, half hidden in the shadows. She looked suspiciously at Alastair.
“Grace,” Thomas said. He looked at Alastair with shining eyes. “Meet Alastair Carstairs, the love of my life,” Alastair’s chest felt warm inside. Without realizing, a smile appeared on his face. “And Alastair, meet Grace Cartraight, a good friend of mine.”
Grace gave Alastair a startled look.
“Wow. You didn’t waste time in the big world, did you, Tom?”
Thomas laughed softly. “I even don’t know where to begin.”
Grace smiled as well. “Do you wanna go somewhere we can talk?”
They ended up in Thomas and Alastair’s place. Grace’s flat was too far away and they didn’t want to go to another tavern.
Grace gave him curious glances once in a while. He was doing the same. Thomas was oblivious to how they were observing each other. Grace was rather short but everyone looked short next to Thomas. Her hair was pale blonde, almost white. She wasn’t frowning but wasn’t smiling either. She listened. And she was smart. Probably smarter than most people realized.
Alastair made tea for the three of them before he sat with them on the kitchen table. Thomas just finished the story of one of his journeys after he left the palace. Alastair has heard it before but he liked how Thomas was telling stories.
“Anyway,” Thomas said, shaking his head as Grace laughed. “Enough about me. Tell me about yourself,” a tension creeped in his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m happy to see you but… why are you here, Grace?”
Her smile faded. She opened her mouth but hesitated. She gave Alastair a quick glance. Thomas saw it.
He took Alastair’s hand in his.
“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of him,” he held her gaze. “Anything.”
Grace slowly nodded. She took a deep breath.
“Thomas,” she said quietly. “Things in the palace aren’t too good. Haven’t been for a while.”
Alastair could almost feel how Thomas’ body tensed next to him. “What do you mean? Is everyone okay?”
Grace shook her head. “No, I mean, yes, everyone is fine, but,” she nervously looked around, like someone could overhear them in the empty apartment. “We got information that leads us to believe there is a traitor among us… and whoever was responsible for the attack four years ago, is planning on trying again.”
“What?” Thomas all but jumped out of his chair. “No,” he shook his head. “I can’t...”
Grace looked pained. “I know it’s shocking. And quite unbelievable. But...” she leaned towards them. “Thomas, there had been rumours. Rumours all over the queendom about a mysterious someone who sells something that “gives you a new life” and can “give you a new home”. A few months before the first attack our spies heard about them but no one paid attention. But recently exactly the same thing has been going on around. It’s too specific not to notice.”
Grace took a breath and took a sip from her tea. She gently put it back on the table but didn’t let go of the cup.
“The queen is not taking any chances,” she continued. “Extremely small circle of people know about this. The Lightwoods are aware. After Gabriel almost died and Barbara’s death… Charlotte decided they had the right to be aware. I know because of Jesse,” her knuckles had gone white from gripping the cup. “Not even Matthew and Benji know. Oh, and Kamala knows too, after what happened to her trying to defend Anna. She’s here with me actually.”
“Wait, I can understand Benji but why not tell Matthew? He’s their son. Does that mean Charles knows?” Thomas said, vibrating with anxious energy. “And Kamala is here with you?”
Grace made a face. “I know you have questions…”
“You bet!”
“...but let’s take it one by one,” Grace said, exhaling. “First: Charles has no idea about any of this. He’s on a diplomatic mission in another country for nine months. He’ll not be home until the end of the year. Kamala and I are here to investigate, of a sort. The queen sent us to find the source of the seller. But… at this point is just a suspicion with too little facts to support it,” she looked tired as she said it. “This city is our last try before we go home,” she grinned at them. “But then I stumbled into you.”
Thomas tried to return the smile but Alastair could see his worry. He was silent for a while.
“You didn’t say anything about Benji and Matthew,” he said quietly.
Grace signed. “Matthew went on a trip a few weeks ago, the same time Kamala and I did. He won’t be back for a while. And Benji… Charlotte decided he shouldn’t know.”
“Why?” Thomas sounded genuinely surprised. “He practically grew up training to be a guard and then a knight. And he was there three years ago. He fought like the rest of us.”
Grace shrugged. “Not everyone that was there knows about this, Tom. The queen is very careful who knows about this and if there is even the slightest chance you may be the traitor...”
“Guilty until proven innocent,” Thomas said bitterly.
“Something like that,” Grace said. “It's a high risk even telling you this. But… I know Charlotte would let you know about it,” but even as she said it she gave Alastair a wary look. Thomas squeezed his hand under the table.
“I must go,” she said and got up, putting on her hat. They also got up, following her to the door.
“Can we see each other again soon?” Thomas said. “And Kamala?”
Grace smiled, “I was going to suggest the same. How about we come for lunch?”
Thomas turned to Alastair with a questioning look. He nodded.
“Okay then,” he smiled, turning back to Grace. “Lunch it is.”
As the door closed after Grace, anxiety creeped over Thomas' face. Alastair could almost see the hundreds of thoughts circling in Thomas’ head.
“Thomas,” Alastair said. “Breath.”
“I’m sorry, I...” Thomas took a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
He gently took his hand and led him to sit on the bed. “You’re not fine. And it’s understandable why.”
“My family… Gods, Alastair. What if something bad happens again and I’m not there to help? What if someone dies? What if-”
“Tom,” Alastair cupped his face, still standing in front of him. He looked him in the eyes. “One breath after another, okay? Breath with me. Yes, yes. Good. Very good.”
Alastair tried his best to sound calm and his voice to be even. Thomas listened to him, following the instructions. With one last breath he opened his eyes and tried to smile at his lover. Alastair carefully let him go. “Better?”
Thomas nodded. He got up and started walking around the small room, rubbing his face. The worst was prevented but it couldn’t take the worry away.
No matter that most people thought about Thomas as an expressive person therefore easy to read, Alastair knew better. He knew Thomas would hide the pain away, trying to protect the others from it. He may be bleeding to death but he'd smile and suggest having a cup of tea. At the same time he wouldn’t lie if asked. Or at least if Alastair asked.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just… anxious. I can’t believe what’s happening. ”
“You want to go help them,” Alastair said.
“I…” Thomas made a face. He stopped walking. “Of course I do. But I would never drag you into my family's problems.”
“Don't speak nonsense,” Alastair got up as well and looked him in the eyes. “We’re going. Your business is my business.”
Thomas' eyes watered. He cupped Alastair's face and kissed him, gently pulling him closer.
“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispered against his lips.
“Probably saved a kingdom in a past life,” Alastair said with a smile. Thomas laughed softly and kissed Alastair’s nose. His lover looked at him then, serious. “I’m not going to back off because problems appear in front of us, Thomas. Hell, I ran away with you. I can’t scare me off that easily.”
Thomas smiled again, shaking his head. “You’re awesome, you know that?”
“It doesn’t hurt being reminded,” Alastair said with a sly smile and pulled Thomas for another kiss.
•
Kamala was as beautiful as Thomas remembered her. Her laugh was warm but sharp and her brown eyes were shining with kindness and mischief. When Thomas left they both were almost children. She looked more mature now. There was new quietness in her. He couldn’t help but notice how little she moved her left arm. Her injury from that day.
Her eyes were more careful now as she watched around. But they softened as her gaze laid on Thomas.
“Tom,” she sighed as they hugged. It was a long hug but Thomas didn’t mind. Perhaps it was something they both needed. She was close with Anna and the best friend of Eugenia so he definitely had spent more time with her.
Both girls reminded him of home. He introduced her to Alastair and Thomas thought they liked each other immediately. Kamala had that effect on people.
“So,” she said after she took a sip from her tea. “I heard you found out about our situation.”
“Yes, I did,” Thomas sighed.
Kamala and Grace looked at each other.
“We want you to come with us,” Grace said straightforwardly. “We need all the allies we can get. And… the Lightwoods would be out of their minds to see you.”
“We know,” Kamala quickly. “That you already have a life here and don’t-”
“I’ll come.”
“...to leave but- what?”
“I’ll come,” Thomas repeated. “Well,” he smiled. “We will come.”
Kamala blinked at him. She hesitated. “Tom...”
“I know who you are!” Grace said suddenly. Everyone looked at her, startled. Her eyes were on Alastair. “Your name… I have heard it before but couldn’t recall where from. But I do now. You’re Prince Esfandiyār Jahanshah.”
Kamala’s eyes widened. Alastair looked a little uncomfortable.
“I use this name mostly for more formal situations and with relatives but yes, that’s me. So?”
“Oh gods,” Kamala said, stunned. “You’re that prince who ran away with his lover? This is Benji’s favorite tale.”
Grace turned to Thomas, hit by the same realization.
“You’re that lover?”
Thomas smiled, embarrassed but a little amused. “Guilty.”
“Wow,” Kamala said and then laughed. “I want to hear the story. All of it.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “We have more urgent tasks,” she said. And then added. “But same.”
Alastair laughed a little. Thomas loved to hear his laugh.
“I think,” he said. “We should come up with a plan of what to do.”
“Agreed,” Grace said. “It will look suspicious if you two just pop up in the court.”
“In many ways,” added Kamala. She looked at Alastair. “Hmm. Perhaps we can use your royal identity somehow.”
Alastair frowned. “If Queen Charlotte is that picky who to trust, is it really a good idea for some foreign prince to knock on her door?”
“If we do it right,” Kamala said. “She will welcome you. She doesn’t want anyone to think anything is wrong.”
“And if we come incognito… as a “distraction” for the queen...” Thomas said.
“The real culprit will show themself,” Grace finished. “No one will pay special attention to us.”
“That’s a shitty plan,” Alastair announced.
“It’s not perfect,” Grace agreed. “But if they think everyone is too busy being careful around some foreign prince… that they don’t look at them anymore... it would be easier to catch them making a mistake.”
“So basically, I’ll be the bait?” Alastair arched an eyebrow.
“No,” Kamala said. “We all will be.”
•
“Are you sure this is safe?” Alastair said, suspiciously eyeing the liquid.
“Of course not,” Grace said, no trace of worry in her voice. “We just spent lots of money on a leery potion. And the woman did say it may have side effects.”
Thomas was smelling it. “It doesn’t smell bad. Just strange. Like apples and gasoline.”
“Guys...”
“Relax, Prince Charming,” Kamala said. “We’ll drink it, not you.”
“That’s exactly why I’m worried.”
“We’re wasting time,” Grace said. “No point in reassuring each other how everything will be alright. We do it or we don’t - no one in the palace should recognize us,” then she lifted the small bottle to her lips and drank. Thomas made a face and did the same. Kamala followed.
“I don’t feel different.” Grace said, touching her face.
“Me neither,” Kamala said. “Maybe it takes time...”
Kamala, Grace and Thomas were looking at each other curiously and then with almost comically surprised expressions when they saw the two unfamiliar faces in front of them, blinking at each other.
Alastair watched the three strangers in his apartment.
“Damn,” he stared at them, dazed. “Damn.”
•
Kamala’s words were echoing in his head. Don’t show you know something is wrong. This is just a random queendom you stopped by for help.
Queen Charlotte looked at him more curiously than hostilly. Alastair decided this was a good sign. He tried his best to look embarrassed.
“Your Majesty,” he bowed low. “Please forgive me for my interruption of your day. I hope you don’t think I’m too unmannered for invading your beautiful queendom like that. I am in desperate need of help.”
Queen Charlotte wasn't a tall woman. She wasn’t wearing expensive jews except the crown on her head that was simple but majestic. Her brown eyes were intelligent and serious but not unkind. She smiled at him, waving a hand at one servant.
“Please, bring some tea for our guests. Even an uninvited stranger deserves hospitality.”
Alastair bowed again. “I’m in awe of your generosity, Your Majesty.”
He looked at her again and secretly took a breath before speaking again. This was the most crucial part.
“I am prince Esfandiyār Jahanshah from a monarchy part of the Eastern empire. I also go by Alastair Carstairs. I’m travelling with my companions,” he waved at Thomas, Kamala and Grace, standing behind him - looking like completely different people - who were still bowing. “I feel silly but we got lost. It’s just the four of us and we have had no royal guardians or contact with our families for weeks. Even months. We were robbed and had no choice but to ask for help. We couldn’t risk revealing our identities to strangers, afraid they may use it against my family. We know around this part of the continent you and a few others have friendly relationships with my land.”
Alastair cringed inside. The next words should not sound as cheeky as it was in his head. Or pathetic.
“I realize I am asking a lot… And I wouldn’t blame you if you refuse. But is it possible to accept us in your palace for a few weeks until a letter reaches my family? I hope I’m not abusing your hospitality.”
The queen was watching him - them - for a few seconds. Alastair was sweating. Worry twisted his insides.
“Please, sit,” Charlotte said. They did as asked, facing her. Alastair was tempted to look at Thomas, to check on him but he couldn’t risk it.
“Prince Esfandiyār,” she started. Then stopped. “Am I pronouncing it right?”
Alastair nodded. But even if she didn’t, Alastair probably wouldn’t correct her anyway. Most monarchs didn’t like to be corrected.
“You realize what sudden and odd request you’re asking of me,” she continued. “I appreciate that. I can’t let just any random prince or princess stay in my palace without any notice.”
No, Alastair thought. Panic was rising in him.
“However,” Charlotte said. “I believe it won’t be a problem to stay here under a name different from Jahanshah. It’s quite a known name, as you are aware.”
Alastair released a deep breath in relief.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he bowed his head. “I’ll stay here as Alastair Carstairs. I hope it won’t be too much trouble for you. You have my endless graduate.”
Charlotte smiled at him. She stood up. The rest did as well.
“You will be escorted to your rooms. I guess you want to be next to each other?”
“If this is possible,” Alastair bowed his head in obeyance. “My companions are very dear to me and for months we had slept next to each other.”
The queen smiled unexpectedly warmly. “Then you are a lucky man, Prince Alastair.”
“Absolutely true,” Alastair agreed sincerely.
At this moment the servant came back with their tea. She put on the table, serving firstly at the Queen, then the rest of them.
“Thank you, Martha,” Charlotte said. Alastair was surprised she knew the servant's girl name. Most royals didn't bother. “Would you ask a guard to call for the Lightwoods? Apologize for the trouble at this time but it's urgent.”
The girl bowed low. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
As she left the room, Charlotte turned to them again. “I hope you are not offended by the heavy guard you'll have here. It's the good old caution that helps one survive.”
“I expect nothing less,” he smiled to show he didn't mind. He had to look at easy. If he was just a Prince looking for help then he had nothing to hide.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
“Come in,” Charlotte said before drinking from her cup.
The Lightwoods entered the room.
•
To be continued...
Words: 6 030
Four months of writing, three weeks of editing, HERE IT IS FINALLY
And if you're fan of 19 Days... I hope you caught the reference hehe
Next part coming Thursday and the third one - Sunday
Challenging Fatphobic Language in Writing: Some Alternative Vocabularies
So I’m currently working on a short story for an explicitly fat-positive anthology, and it’s making me realize just how little language I have readily at hand for describing large bodies in positive terms!
Putting aside for a moment the whole debate over HAES and fat positivity and everything else – and if you clown on this post, I’m simply going to block you, that’s not what we’re here for – sometimes you just want to write a story with a fat person in it and you need some adjectives/descriptive language that isn’t overtly gross and/or fetishistic.
Well, I’ve got you, fam. I have compiled this handy list of descriptive terms and phrases for describing big bodies with positive connotations.
Why am I doing this?
Because this:
And this:
And frankly, we all deserve better. So let’s go.
Positive (and Neutral) Adjectives for Fatness
Abundant
Ample
Big
Broad
Buxom
Considerable
Curvy
Full
Generous
Heavy
Large
Luscious
Plentiful
Plump
Replete
Robust
Round
Rubenesque
Soft
Solid
Stocky
Substantial
Thick
Voluptuous
Zaftig
Movement Verbs Evoking Fatness
Amble
Bounce
Lope
Mosey
Pad
Plod
Pound
Ramble
Scoot
Shuffle
Trundle
Some Points to Keep In Mind
A big part of challenging fatphobia in writing is inverting or subverting stereotypes. Here are a few lazy/played-out tropes and things to think about:
Fat = Greedy
I think we can all agree at this point that there are better ways to show greed – such as excessive wealth, entitlement, selfishness, and so forth. There is really no need to use fatness or gluttony as a metaphor for these concepts. Just write your greedy character doing greedy things and resist the urge to make them also be fat. If you need a strong visual metaphor, go for opulence and wealth instead.
Fat = Gross
A ton of media, especially horror, loves making fat people slovenly, smelly, covered in food stains, farting and belching, etc. etc. So if you want a more positive representation, just presenting the character as clean, well-dressed, tidy, etc. actually goes a very long way. Consider playing against type by making your fat character dapper or fastidious about other elements of their appearance, like their hair, or wearing very nice custom-fitted clothes (or even just “dressing up” a bit more than everyone else).
Fat = Out of Shape
Yes, absolutely, many fat people are also out of shape couch potatoes. But so are a lot of skinny people. And fat people absolutely can be athletic – go google “fat athletes” for several lists of them if you don’t believe me! Sure, you probably won’t find a ton of fat long-distance runners, but you’ll definitely find plenty of hefty weight lifters, fighters, folks with physical jobs, etc. A lot of super muscular people are also carrying extra fat, and that is in fact way more common and natural than the super-defined, well-cut muscles you see on TV. Keep that in mind the next time you’re writing an army of strong hand-to-hand combatants – they’re likely to be physically big, not in a bulging muscle He-Man way but more of an “absolute unit” way. Keep in mind, too, that even regular folks packing extra pounds will often tend to be a lot stronger (on account of spending every day carrying extra weight!) You can be fat and graceful, fat and strong, fat and with endurance. Just something to keep in mind.
Fat = Pig
Pigs have a reputation for being huge, dirty, smelly, garbage-eating slobby creatures, and “disgusting fat pig” and “porker” and their ilk have been insults against big people for a long time. Of course, in reality pigs are also super smart, highly social (and fucking terrifying) but that’s not usually waht gets invoked when people think of them! Really, avoiding animal language when talking about people is often a good idea (since animal comparisons can be dehumanizing), but if you are going to evoke an animal, go with something else. Like a seal (super cute, very graceful in its natural environment) or a bear (big and solid and intimidating) or a bull elk (thick and majestic).
Fat = Ugly
Fat people can be beautiful. I mean, sure, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and inner beauty is a thing and all that – but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean that fat bodies are great! They’re warm and soft and huggable. They’re big and solid and comforting. They can be strong and protective. They can be super-feminine and curvy. Cute as a button or powerful and demanding with their presence.
Obviously dismantling fatphobia is a whole big (ha, ha) topic all on its own, and there’s a ton more to think about. But this is at least something to get you started!
Context matters a whole lot in description – words can be positive or negative based on how they’re utilized! But these are at least some terms intended to be a bit less loaded with negative baggage than those often used in less flattering descriptions.
Have you read a book with a fat character who had a great or interesting description? Please reblog, I’d love to see how other authors have handled it!
part i | part ii | part iii
AO3 | masterlist
Thomastair Royal AU: Tale of the Prince and the Servant (can be skipped if you really want to)
I know it has been months since and I'm sorry for this 😭 I was in a writing block. But I managed to finally finish this!
So, Sun @taylorjamie Happy Birthday to you <3 I love you. I know it has been many months but here it is. I hope you enjoy it ❤️
•
~ Present ~
When Thomas opened his eyes he took a deep breath and felt alive again.
Alastair was sitting on the bed with crossed legs, still holding their hands together. The moment Thomas moved, his eyes snapped open and looked at his face, searching.
“Tom?”
“Hi,” he smiled.
“Hi yourself,” Alastair squeezed his hand, his eyes the only thing that showed his anxiety. “How are you feeling?”
Like the ghost of my childhood doesn’t hang over me anymore, Thomas thought.
“Better,” he said, sitting up. “So much better.”
Alastair visibly relaxed.
“Good,” he said, letting out a sigh. “Good.”
Thomas smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. It was a short, comforting kiss. They stayed close, leaning against each other’s foreheads.
“You look at me more intensely than usual,” Thomas said with a teasing smile after a few minutes. “Don’t I look like myself again?”
“You do,” Alastair said, his small smile suddenly melted. “Not that it mattered what face you have.”
“Really?”
Alastair slowly nodded. “Your face was different,” he said, quietly but sure. “But it was still your hands. Your skin. Your scars. Your lips. I would recognize you even in the darkness.”
Thomas blinked a few times, fast, chasing the tears away. He couldn’t stop the doopy smile on his face.
“But still,” Alastair said, his smile back. “I’m glad your old look is back. I like your stupid face.”
Thomas shook his head but couldn’t stop the laughter from his mouth.
•
Alastair filled the blanks for Thomas. He told him what they had found about the potion. What they were arrested for. How long they have been here.
“Two days?” Thomas said, stunned. “Damn.”
“Damn indeed,” Alastair sighed. “At least we don’t have to worry this damn shit potion will make you sick forever.”
Thomas squeezed his hand. It was wonderful to have Thomas back. Not that Alastair ever lost him… but in some ways they had been apart.
“Do you know what happened to Kamala and Grace?”
Alastair shook his head. “No idea. They separated us. We’re lucky we’re together.”
“Has anyone come to question you?”
“No,” Alastair said and frowned. “This is very weird when I think about it.”
Thomas stood up, starting to walk around. The same old habit when his anxiety was triggered.
“Something is off,” he said, a frown on his face. “From day one a General should have come and personally questioned you. Especially with the accusations being this serious.”
He stopped suddenly, staring at the door. A moment later Alastair heard it too. Steps.
The small chink on the dungeon’s door opened, letting in a light.
“Dinner,” a male voice announced and a plate with food slipped in. “There’s a message from… your friend. She says it’s time everyone hears the whole story of how you met.”
The chink was closed, and the steps faded away. Alastair and Thomas exchanged stunned looks. Thomas went to the plate and squatted.
“There is a note,” he looked at Alastair with sparkling eyes.
He opened it. His eyes were moving as he read. He bit his lip.
“What is it?” Alastair said.
Thomas shook his head. “It’s from Kamala, I think… she… the note says that she thinks everything is in motion and already started.”
“It? ” he said and got up, approaching Thomas. He took the note and scanned it.
There wasn’t much. Just a few lines that warned them to be ready and what Thomas said.
“How did you find out it’s from Kamala?” he turned to Thomas.
“She always does this torsion with the "y","g" and "j". I would recognize it anywhere. And the strange thing the guard said… she said something like that when she and Grace found out we are some famous tale.”
Alastair read the note again.
“Be prepared for what though?”
Thomas shrugged helplessly. “Maybe she has a plan to get us out of here? I don’t know.”
Alastair ran a hand through his face. He hated it when he didn’t know what was going on.
Thomas’ warm hand on his back helped a little.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and find out.”
•
They didn’t have to wait for long.
The door of their dungeon was carefully and slowly opened. Half the face of a guard appeared. Probably around their age, brown eyes and curly hair.
“Come on,” he whispered. Thomas recognized the voice as the man that gave them food earlier. “We don’t have much time.”
Alastair and Thomas didn’t waste any time. As quietly as they could, they came out and followed the guard. He moved silently through the tunnels of the dungeons. Thomas rarely has come here, even as a son of the captain of the royal guard. It was a forbidden place and even Benji, who was always a curious explorer, didn’t manage to sneak into it.
The guard clearly knew where he was going. He was short, not just compared to Thomas. He was at Alastair’s nose level. Thomas was tempted to ask some questions but didn’t dare. He was holding Alastair's hand as they moved around. Thomas was completely lost. The thought that they maybe shouldn’t trust the guy crossed his mind but if he wanted to hurt them, he would have done it in the dungeon.
Finally, they reached an exit. The guard unlocked a door and suddenly, they were outside, the night chill but not cold. Fresh air hit Thomas in the face but he didn’t mind. He hadn’t gone out in days.
“Here,” he whispered as he led them into the bushes. “We’ll be safe here for a while.”
“In the bushes?” Alastair raised an eyebrow.
The guard didn’t seem bothered. “Better.”
He took out another key and as he moved aside another bush, he revealed a door on the ground, probably a forgotten basement.
“Great, another room under the ground,” Alastair murmured.
The guard shot them a sympathetic look. “This was the only place I could think of. I didn’t have a lot of time.”
They went down the stairs. It was even smaller than their dungeon. There was only a double bed and a table - no room for anything bigger. The guard locked after them and left the key hanging on a hook next to the door.
“Okay, enough of this,” Alastair headed towards him and the guard’s eyes widened and he made a step back.
Thomas would laugh if their situation wasn’t so bad.
“What do you have to do with Kamala? Why are you helping us?” Alastair bombarded him with questions. “And who the hell are you?”
“Whoa,” the guard took another step back but his back hit the wall. Small room, it is.
“First, my name is Berold,” he said. “I owe Kamala. She helped me a few years ago. When I saw her in the dungeon I knew something was off. So when she asked for help, I agreed,” he hesitantly added. “Are we good?”
Alastair continued to glare at him warily but stepped back to Thomas.
Berold took a deep breath.
“We have to wait for Kamala here. She said that… something is up.”
Just know Thomas noticed how tense he was. Something was telling Thomas it had nothing to do with letting out prisoners. There was something else.
“Is there someone you are worried about in the palace?” Thomas asked gently.
Berold blinked and turned to look at him. He shifted uncomfortably and leaned on the table, crossing arms.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “My husband. He is a knight. Tonight he is on watch. Weird things have been happening the last few days.”
“Weird things?” Alastair frowned.
Berold nodded. “Sudden change of the schedule. Inaccessibility to certain areas. Cleaning weapons. The list is going on. Reggie even told me that he hadn't been allowed to talk with his superiors the whole day.”
“Wait, did you say Reggie?” Alastair said. “As Reginald?”
“Yeah,” the guard eyed him curiously. “My husband. You know him?”
Alastair snorted. “Hardly. He arrested me.”
“Oh,” Berold looked away. “Awkward.”
His lover pressed his lips and looked away. He sat on the bed, his back hitting the wall. He intensely stared at the wall in front of him, his long legs stretched out on the bed. Thomas sat on the end of it, his elbows on his knees.
“So,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “How did you and your husband meet?”
Berold smiled.
Turns out their guard was a talker. And a little bit of gossiper. He told them the story of how he and Reginald met for the first time, just the bad luck of a newbie who got confused in the big palace and a knight kind enough to help him. As Berold started he couldn’t stop. He told them stories from the palace, with him and his husband.
“On our wedding,” he said. “I caught Amice and Mabel hooking up. I almost choked on my wine! I can never imagine them being a good couple.”
“Why?” Thomas siad, curious.
“It’s just that… Amice is a good woman. The best knight. Strict but dedicated, kind when needed, an awesome sword fighter,” he leaned a bit, like he was telling a secret. “You haven’t heard it from me but… Mabel is awful. Amice can find herself a better woman.”
“How so?” Alastair said, suddenly interested in the conversion.
Berold shrugged. “I don’t want to talk bad about people just like that but… Man, I hate that girl. She’s always trying to get something out of you. Like a vampire. Never leaves you alone until you give exactly what she wants.” he shuddered. “Poor Benji. He chose her because she’s decent with the sword but didn’t know what a leech she is.”
“Hm,” was all Alastair said before looking away again. Berold knew better than to try to talk to him further.
“Tell me about the wedding,” Thomas said, part of him wanting to spare them the awkwardness, the other genuinely curious about this strangers’ wedding.
Berold’s expression softened.
“Oh, it was amazing,” he said. “It was simple. No extravagant stuff, no pomposity. We both hated these fancy things. We came to meet each other’s family. I saw my father for the first time in two years. He can’t visit often, if at all, because he owns a tavern, a nation away from here. Small town, old buildings. It’s adorable actually. My family even had to leave a little early because my niece got sick.”
Alastair and Thomas exchanged looks.
“Berold,” Thomas said slowly. “I know the chance for this is very slim but… Does by any chance your father's name is Armin?”
His eyes widened. “Actually… it is. I… how do you know this?”
He heard Alastair murmuring, “Small world.”
Thomas grinned. “We worked for him for a few days.”
Berold eyes widened. “Oh my gods, really? You know him?”
Thomas nodded. “We do. Kind of. I’m not sure if he’ll remember us.”
Berold exhaled. “Damn, the world is indeed small.”
Thomas opened his mouth to answer but before he could a knock on the door made them all jump.
•
“This must be Kamala,” Berold said and took the key from the hook. He unlocked it and took a glance at who was standing there before opening it widely.
Kamala came in and Berold quickly closed after her. She looked like she had a fight with the bushes and lost. Her arm was strangely hanging next to her body. She looked exhausted.
“Kamala!” Thomas jumped from the bed and hugged her. “Gods, what happened to you?”
“I don’t wanna talk about that,” she sighed but hugged him. “And we have no time to lose.”
“What’s going on?” Alastair stood up too.
Kamala ran a hand through her hair.
“Something is very, very wrong,” she said. “We have been out of prison for hours and literally no one gives a shit. I… Well, Grace insists a coup is in motion. She went to look after the Queen.”
“This is stupid,” Alastair said with a grimace. “She’s smarter than that.”
Kamala pressed her lips together and didn’t answer him. She turned to Berold.
“I need to know who we can trust. Do you have any idea which knights are corrupted?”
Berold looked pale. He stared at her, his fingers touching his parted lips.
“Someone wants to harm Her Majesty?” he whispered. “For real?”
Kamala’s eyes softened. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve answers and I’m sorry we can’t give you the whole story. But we don’t have time.”
Berold took a deep breath. His hands tightened into fists. He looked at them, determination in his eyes.
“I don’t know which knights are worth your thrust,” he said. “But I know who will know.”
Shortly after, they were back in the bushes, walking to the main hall where Berold’s husband was. At first Berold insisted on going alone. More people, higher chances to get caught. But neither Thomas nor Alastair could just sit and wait anymore. They all went.
Alastair watched as Berold quickly went to the gate and started a conversion with one of the knights. She was nodding as he was talking and then smiled. She told him something and went inside.
Berold ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. After a few minutes Reginald came out of the building.
He smiled warmly when he saw Berold. He hugged him across the shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Berold started to talk and on Reginald’s face appeared a devilish smile. But as the other man continued the smile vanished. He was listening to his husband, looking more and more tense.
They haven’t discussed what Berold would tell him but he said he’ll deal with it. He was still talking when Reginald took a look around. He didn’t look at their direction though so probably Berold had some brain cells, Alastair thought.
He saw how the knight’s eyes widened. He was looking at his husband with bewilderment.
“This doesn’t look too good,” Thomas murmured.
“We don’t have time for this,” Kamala sighed.
“We don’t have a choice,” Thomas noted.
The poor bastard, Alastair thought as he watched Berold and Reginald talking, quietly but obviously more heated.
Suddenly a loud cry broke the silent night. Reginald turned immediately towards the sound, taking out his sword. Berold took out a dagger out of his cross.
“Our time is up,” Kamala said. “We have to go.”
•
“This is suicide,” Alastair hissed. “We don’t have a plan, we’re just rushing into a situation we know nothing about. This is terrible. And where the hell is Grace?”
“We have a plan,” Kamala said. “Grace and I came with a plan. If we hurry now-”
“No,” Thomas said, surprising both himself and them. Alastair and Kamala looked at him. “You two always come up with a plan on your own, excluding us, always secretive and untrusting. We wasted weeks in the palace, doing nothing while Grace was playing a spy and probably you making an investigation on your own.”
“Thomas…”
“Fuck this,” he said and got up from the bush. He headed towards Berold and Reginald.
“Stop him,” he heard Kamala hissing at Alastair.
He could almost picture Alastair’s grin. “What, like, physically?”
He heard the frustrated sigh of Kamala before he was too far away from them.
Reginald’s eyes widened when he saw Thomas over Berold’s head. There was recognition in them.
“Sir Reginald,” Thomas said. “I know this is sudden, reckless and you have no reason to trust us. I know… how crazy it looks. But we don’t have a lot of time - we believe a coup is happening right now and we have very little time and people to prevent it. We don’t know who is really on our side or just a pretender. But we were assured you are a true knight and can help us. Will you?”
Reginald was still wide-eyed and startled but he put himself together. He nodded firmly.
“It’s an honour for me, sir Thomas,” he bowed and looked at him again. “I remember the very first time this happened. The tragedy that caused. If I can do anything to prevent it from happening, I will.
Berold looked at Thomas, wide eyed. “You… I thought-”
“We have no time,” Alastair's sharp voice interrupted them. He and Kamala were next to him. “The palace is burning.”
All of them turned to it. Alastair was right. It was a small fire coming from the kitchens and all knights, guards and servants were running around, some carrying water, others helping injured people. No one was paying them any attention.
“It started,” he heard Kamala whispering.
“I have a few people in mind I trust,” Reginald said. “Lady Amice is absolutely loyal, I’m sure of it. But I haven’t seen her in two days and I… I’m worried about her. General Cecily, captain Gideon, sir Benji… None of the authorities had answered in the last twenty four hours.”
Thomas and Kamala exchanged worried looks. People they cared about. Their family.
“Gather all the knights you trust, the ones you’re absolutely sure are loyal,” Kamala ordered. “We have to protect the people in the palace. Then send some who will protect the queen to her doors.”
Reginald nodded curtly and turned to Berold. He cupped his face and leaned forward to kiss his forehead and whispered something to him. Berold nodded with a pained expression and kissed his cheek. Reginald let go of him and turned, running towards the building he came out of a few moments ago.
Berold turned to them. “Can I be useful somehow? I’m not the best fighter.”
“Yes,” Kamala said. She took out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “Find Grace. Tell her about the changes in the plan. Then find us. We’ll go to check on the queen.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do that,” he opened it and as he read it, he headed off too.
Kamala looked at the fire. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll go catch our imposter.”
•
The moment they crossed the first corridor, Alastair got lost.
The palace wasn’t as big as the one he was raised in but everything looked the same here. There were barely any tapestries or hangings on the walls, just stairs and empty halls.
Thomas and Kamala clearly knew where they were going. They didn’t hesitate for a second where to turn or which corridor was the right one.
“Shouldn’t we get weapons before we stumble into some potential assassin?” Thomas said, a little breathy, while they were running.
“No time!” Kamala said in reply. “Charlotte can be attacked any minute now!”
We are complete idiots, Alastair thought. And we’re gonna get killed.
They entered part of the palace that was oddly empty. There were no servants or knights, not even guards.
“It’s so quiet,” Thomas whispered. “I can’t even hear the chaos outside.”
Kamala was holding a dagger in her hand, the same one she was trying to protect them with when they were arrested. She was squeezing it so hard her knuckles were white.
They approached a door, hiding behind the corner.
“That’s the queen’s office,” Thomas whispered to him.
“Aren’t there supposed to be knights in front of it?” he murmured. “Or at least guards?”
“Yes,” Kamala said, staring at it. “There should be. All the time.”
But the three of them were the only people around.
A thought creeped in Alastair’s mind that made him cold. What if it was too late? What if Charlotte was already dead?
They heard approaching footsteps. A servant girl with a plate of croissants approached the door and knocked. She seemed vaguely familiar to Alastair. This was the same girl that served them tea when they first arrived in the palace. What was her name? Martha?
She opened it and entered the room. She left the door open so Thomas, Kamala and Alastair could see inside.
Queen Charlotte, captain Gideon and lady Sophie were standing there, reading documents. Charlotte was sitting behind a desk, reading a piece of paper with a frown. There were dark circles under her eyes. Gideon and Sophie were quietly talking.
Charlotte looked up and smiled at the girl. “Thank you, Martha,” she said. “You can go rest now. It was a long day.”
The girl left the plate with croissants on the desk and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s attention was already back in the paper and she only waved at Martha. The servant took one last look at the croissants and then left, closing the door quietly.
“I don’t understand,” Kamala whispered. “It had to happen now. Why is no one here?”
“Maybe they’re targeting someone else,” Alastair said quietly. “What about the king? General Cecily?”
Thomas bit his lips. “But… Why would they attack someone else if the queen is so… so vulnerable right now? Henry doesn’t hold any political power on his own. He can’t rule without a queen.”
“We should check on him,” Kamala said. “And whoever that was during the attack there. Maybe their target isn’t the queen but another person that was there that day.”
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. “This becomes more and more confusing.”
Alastair took his hand and squeezed it. Thomas did the same in return.
“We should stop for weapons,” Alastair said. “Because I’m not going to face a damn assassin empty-handed. We had luck this time - I’m not risking it again.”
“You are right,” Kamala said. “We should be careful. It was stupid and risky to come here unarmed,” she turned around and headed towards the direction they came from. “Come on. Let’s get some weapons.”
Much to Alastair’s relief, there were spears in the armory. Not the ones he would use if he had a choice but they didn’t have the luxury of time. Kamala took a weep and Thomas - an old favourite weapon of his, bolas. All of them took a sword.
Thomas explained that Henry spent most of his time in his laboratory that was on the first floor because of his wheelchair. He was a scientist and Christopher often helped him, even did experiments on his own. They didn’t even bother to check the queen and king’s room. They headed straight towards the laboratory.
It was still strangely empty on their way to it. Like all people had disappeared.
When they got closer to the lab they heard voices. They slowed down and tried to step lightly, careful not to make any noise.
This time it wasn’t as easy to look inside as before. For one, there were knights. Maybe not too much, a dozen, but they stood no chance against them.
“We have to split,” Kamala whispered, her voice barely audible. “If they find some of us, they mustn’t know there are more people who know about the scheme.”
Thomas and Alastair nodded. They exchanged a glance, not daring to speak. Thomas kissed his forehead. With one last squeez of their hands, they let go.
•
Alastair didn’t dare to look where they were going. He just headed towards the opposite direction, looking for a hiding place where he could watch what was happening. It wasn’t too hard. The palace had lots of corridors, halls without doors and hiding dark spots.
When he saw the scene in front of him, his blood ran cold.
Grace and Berold were there. They were tied up and covered in brushes. Berold was breathing hard and looked in pain. Probably one of his rips was broken. Grace had a cleft lower lip and blood on her clothes. She was looking murderous at someone.
Alastair recognized the girl as Mabel, one of the knights who was there for their arrest and someone Berold had said he didn’t like. She was holding a crossbow aimed at a boy’s chest. This must be Christopher Lightwood, Alastair thought. Thomas’ cousin.
One of the glasses on his face was broken. He didn’t seem hurt but he looked wide-eyed at Mabel.
“I’m asking for the last time,” Mabel said, her teeth gritted. “Where is the king?”
“I don’t know,” Christopher said, his breathing hard. He looked her hard in the eyes. “He left a few hours ago. I haven’t seen him since then.”
Mabel narrowed her eyes but before she could say or do something, a voice called for her. She turned to the knight who was running towards her.
“What?” she snapped.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said, breath bursting in and out. He swallowed before looking at her. “I was told to report immediately after it’s done.”
“Talk,” Mabel rolled her eyes.
“This part of the palace is cut off from the rest of the court. No one will suspect anything and even if they do, they can’t come in.”
“Good. What about Benji?”
“He and the rest of the knights that aren’t on our side are sleeping and locked in their rooms.”
Mabel nodded approvingly. “Nice. Now,” she turned to Christopher. “Where were we?”
Alastair barely blinked and a shadow came out of the dark. Everything happened fast. He saw Christopher shutting his eyes as Mabel released the arrow towards his chest.
Instead of hitting him though, the arrow hit the wall, harmlessly falling on the floor.
Thomas was holding the crossbow, redirecting it away from his cousin. His jaw was set and his eyes were burning.
Mabel stared at him, her mouth agape. There were already knights around them, grabbing him. He let go of the crossbow, breaking eye contact with Mabel.
She pressed her lips together.
“Search the place!” she shouted. “There may be others. Tie him up and put him with the others.”
Shit, Alastair thought. I should get out of here. Kamala and I still can do something if we escape now.
But his body didn’t move. He was rooted in place, his legs refusing to cooperate. He knew, he knew, that if he stayed here and let himself get caught, he wouldn’t help Thomas and his friends in any way. But his chest was heavy and blood was raging in his ears.
Mabel turned to the guy who reported to her a minute ago.
“You,” she growed. He flinched. “Go to find the mistress. Tell her we have… troubles.”
He nodded and ran off, without a second glance back.
Pressing a fist to his lips, Alastair turned away and started running, hiding in the shadows. He didn’t allow himself to glance back at Thomas or he wouldn’t be able to walk away.
The guy had said this part of the palace was cut off. Then Reginald and his knights wouldn’t be able to come soon. It would take them some time. They didn’t have it.
The only other option was… the locked knights.
Alastair almost groaned. Some annoyance creeped in his mind, distracting him from the buzzling anxiety. It made him feel a little more stable.
Unfortunately, he’d have to deal with one very unpleasant ginger.
•
Thomas was trying very hard not to fall apart.
Grace was on one side of him, Christopher on the other. He could hear his cousin's uneven breath.
“Tom,” he whispered. “How- What are you doing-”
“I will explain everything, I promise,” Thomas said, swallowing. “Let’s just… let’s just survive this, okay? I’ll tell you everything.”
Christopher closed his eyes but nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Alright. Do you have any idea why-”
“Shut the fuck up,” one knight snapped at them.
Grace shot him a look, filled with loath but pressed her lips together. She shook her head at Thomas. They had to remain quiet and obedient until they knew what was going on.
Mabel was pacing around the room, eyeing the door every two seconds.
After a few silent minutes and many stolen glances between the four captives, the knight returned, his head popping up at the door.
“She’s here,” he whispered.
Rubbing hands down her pants, Mabel approached the door and left the lab, closing it. They heard muffled voices and the two knights in their room exchanged glances.
After a few minutes the voices died down and the door opened. A few knights entered first, with straightened backs and blank expressions.
After them, followed by Mabel, came the so-called mistress.
On the doorway was standing Martha. The servant girl who brought them tea when they arrived. The girl that they saw in the Queen’s room not long ago.
She looked around the room with a cold, calculated gaze.
Her blue eyes stopped on Thomas for a few seconds then slowly moved to Christopher. She arched an eyebrow.
“Well, well,” she said. “We have quite the gang here. The godson of the king. The runaway son of the captain of the royal guard. The so-called spy of Her Majesty,” she looked at Berold and smiled mockingly. “Oh, and some useless guard.”
Berold shrunk under her gaze.
“I heard,” she said, holding her hands loosely behind her back while walking around the lab like she was looking around a museum. “That we have some trouble with cooperating, hm?”
“I said multiple times already,” he said, a hint of fear and anger creeping into his voice. “I have no idea where the king is.”
“It’s alright, sweet thing,” Martha said, picking up the arrow that Mabel intended for Christopher from the floor. “I believe you.”
“You do?” he said, frowning in confusion.
“I do,” Martha said. “Instead of demanding pointless answers, I’ll give you a simple task that is in your area of knowledge.”
Christopher didn’t say anything, just stared at the arrow in her hands.
“The potion I’m sure we all know about. Some more than others,” she winked at Grace and Thomas. “Need to be improved.”
“What?”
“You see, the creator of "new life, new home", unfortunately, died a few years ago. Of old age, in his sleep, peacefully. Really good death. But he couldn’t help us develop the potion to the level we want it.”
Martha carefully took a bottle from the table and smelled it, then put it back.
“I know about your skills, Christopher,” she said, slowly approaching them. “And I truly believe you are capable of fulfilling my desire.”
She stopped in front of him and looked him in the eyes, her face close to his.
“I want you to make this potion not just change your feathers,” she said, her voice smooth and quiet, like she was talking to a lover. “But to change them according to the person’s wishes.”
Christopher’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “I… I don’t think…”
“We’ll leave you with the old man’s notes,” she said with a smile, still gently holding the arrow. “I’m sure with enough time and the right motivation, you can do it.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Gods, I can’t… This would- No.”
The friendly smile vanished from her face, her mask falling completely.
“There is a misunderstanding,” she said, her voice still low but more cold now. “This is not a request.”
Then she suddenly turned and raised her arm - the arrow flew at Thomas’ face.
•
“No!”
It took a moment for Thomas to hear the screams over the raging beating of his heart in his ears.
“I will do it! Please!”
Thomas let go a long, shaky breath as the arrow was vibrating, driven into the wall next to his head.
“Don’t hurt him!”
He was hearing Christopher’s pleas, Grace and Berold’s screams. But his heart was the loudest.
Martha turned to Kit with a smile. “I knew we would come to an agreement.”
She sharply turned her head towards the knights standing next to the wall. “Untie him,” she barked at them.
At least three knights jumped to comply with her order. Martha turned on her heels and headed toward Mabel, who was standing on the door. Mabel looked at her, guilty. Martha started to talk with her quietly, Mabel nodding.
Thomas looked at Christopher who was next to the table, running a hand through his hair. Grace was breathing heavily next him, her arm barely touching his.
“We have to do something,” Grace said through gritted teeth.
“What?” Thomas whispered. “They’ll kill us without hesitation. Or at least Martha would.”
“Lady Kamala and Prince Alastair are still free,” Berold whispered. “They’ll come up with something. We have to wait for them.”
Grace shook her head. “We don’t have-”
“I can’t do it alone,” Christopher said.
The room went quiet. Everyone looked at Christopher who was standing unembarrassed, holding a pile of paper.
Martha slowly turned to him. “What did you say?”
“I can’t do it alone,” Christopher repeated. “I need Grace to help me.”
Martha pressed her lips together and shot a glance at Grace. Thomas was impressed how fast his friend changed attitudes. A minute ago she was determined and furious, ready to chop off someone’s limb. Now she was a wide-eyed, scared, fragile damsel in distress with a bleeding lip.
“Fine,” Martha snorted. She waved at the knights. “And don’t try anything funny,” her gaze landed on Kit again. “What did you and sir Thomas call each other? Brothers in anything but blood?” she arched an eyebrow with a foxy smile.
Christopher didn’t react but Thomas saw how his hand shook.
•
More than half an hour passed. Christopher and Grace were working hard under Martha’s gaze. Thomas was getting seriously worried.
Where were Alastair and Kamala? Has something happened to them? Thomas was trying not to think too hard on this or he had trouble breathing properly.
He glanced at Berold. He was subtly moving the hands behind his back, probably trying to free himself. Thomas suddenly remembered that he had people he must be worried about too. His husband being one of them.
Thomas was so deep into his thoughts he didn’t notice the man that had entered the room until he spoke.
“How long is this going to take?” he asked Martha, frowning. He had pale blonde, almost white hair that clearly needed a haircut.
“Shut up and don’t mess anything up,” Martha said.
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But we had to be done at this point. This is taking forever.”
“Why don’t you take a sword and fight for the cause then?” Martha said viciously. “Why don’t you do something yourself, Mister My-Face-Is-Too-Important?”
He rolled his eyes. He was tall and slim and obviously not suited for sword-fight. “Stop bitching on me,” he said. “Besides, what about the knights that-”
Then they heard steps.
A lot of steps.
•
When the nights bore into the ranks of the traitors, it became chaos. Alastair and Kamala straight up went to the room that was the laboratory, almost crushing the door open along with a few knights. Alastair’s eyes immediately found Thomas. Relief washed over him and without paying attention to anyone else, he went straight up to him.
A knight reached him first and freed him from the ropes around his hands. They rushed towards each other.
“Dear gods,” Thomas whispered, his hands on Alastair’s cheeks. “I was so worried,” he said.
Alastair frowned but it didn’t quite work. He couldn’t scowl at Thomas.
“I should have been worried about you,” he said, his hands on Thomas’s arms. “You were captured by a murderers.”
Thomas just smiled and kissed Alastair. Light and short contact of their lips.
“I love you so much,” he whispered so only Alastair could hear him.
He opened his mouth to reply but didn’t have the opportunity.
Queen Charlotte entered the room.
The fight had died out. They had numerical advantage but the knight-traitors weren’t too much anyway. A knight had captured a girl - Martha, Alastair realized. She struggled in his grip but it was impossible to even move him. She took a deep breath and calmed down as the Queen stood in front of her. Amice and Reginald were next to the Queen. Berold was nearby too. Everyone was staring into the girl.
“Martha,” Charlotte said. She didn’t look angry but just… sad. “Why?”
The girl didn’t say anything. She looked up to Charlotte and just stared at her.
“You cut off the communication of my generals to their people,” she continued. “Tried to poison me. Took some of my knights for yourself,” she went silent, looking around her. “Why, Martha? You wanted power? Revenge? What?”
Martha looked away and slowly shook her head. “What a pointless question.”
Charlotte sighed. “Take her and the knights to the dungeons. Tomorrow morning we will discuss what to do with them-”
“Wait a second,” Thomas frowned. “Where is that guy-”
The shadows moved. Before Alastair could shout a warning a person stepped out of the dark - a pale boy with a dagger. He headed straight to the Queen. Amice saw him and reacted fast. But Berold was closer. He threw himself in front of the Queen just as the boy swinged with the dagger. Instead in the Queen’s body, the weapon bore into Berold’s.
“No!”
Panic exploded all over the people. Everyone was trying to either protect the Queen or get hold of the boy. Reginald was kneeling next to Berold, terror written on his face.
With the corner of his eye Alastair saw how a few knights caught the boy that tried to stab the Queen. He was slammed into the floor, screaming curses at them. Thomas grabbed Alastair's hand, more instinct than anything. Alastair squeezed it in response.
The chaos was overwhelming.
•
The next hour was a blur. Reginald was screaming for a doctor, Charlotte barked orders the traitors to be locked in the dungeons until she says otherwise and someone to find a healer immediately. Thomas, along with Alastair, Kamala, Grace and Christopher, were taken to a room with a big bed and told to wait there until it was sure they were out of danger.
Christopher immediately hugged Thomas. They stood like that for a long time. Thomas was shaking as he was telling how they met Grace and Kamala and their plan.
A little before he could finish, the door opened and the rest of his family was there. Sophie straight up hugged him, without muttering a word. His father grabbed him in a short but fierce hug. After he let go he stared in Thomas' face for a long time, tears forming in his eyes.
Gabriel and Cecily welcomed him just as warmly, hugging him too. Gabriel didn't try to hide the tears streaming down his face. He wasn't the only one. All of them were tearing up and hugging each other.
Someone told him Berold was going to be okay. He needed a lot of rest and his stomach was damaged but he was going to survive. The fire in the other wing of the palace was extinguished. The knights were patrolling around the whole place to make sure the threat was actually gone. They wanted to know how Thomas was in the palace and all that had happened to him in the time he was gone.
Thomas looked around. Alastair and Grace were in the other corner of the room, watching them. Alastair smiled at Thomas. Thomas knew he wanted to give him some privacy with the family he hasn't seen in so long. And Thomas loved him for this. But he wanted to share this happiness with the man he loved.
He kissed his mother's forehead.
“I will tell you everything,” he said. “But there’s something else first. I… Just wait a minute. I’ll be back in a second”
He walked to Alastair, smiling. He took his hands in his and kissed his knuckles.
“Do you want to meet my family?” Thomas said, then smiled. “Properly this time.”
Alastair looked at the crowd that was secretly staring at them.
“I would love to but… Are they going to like me?”
“They will love you,” Thomas said firmly. “And even if they don't - which is impossible - they will have to learn because I'm planning to be with you for a long, long time.”
Alastair laughed quietly, happily.
He kissed their clasped hands, his lips on Thomas fingers for a few long seconds.
“Alright,” he looked at Thomas, smiling. “I trust your word. Let’s meet your family.”
•
Words: 6 714
There's small SoC reference and a tiny one from Legally Blonde <3
This was the third and final part! I hope you enjoyed this sequel to the Tale of the Prince and the Servant!!
In all honesty, Christopher had no idea why he’d volunteered to watch Grace overnight. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for her. Perhaps it was because of pity, but he’d be lying if he said that she didn’t intrigue him.
She sat on the floor, her head buried in her hands. She hadn’t said anything to him or the rest of the Merry Thieves since James had told them to watch her in case she “tried anything.”
Christopher wasn’t fully aware of what had happened between James and Grace, but he knew better than to ask questions.
“Can I get you anything?” Christopher asked her. “Perhaps some tea?”
Her voice was muffled by her hands, and he struggled to hear her. “You shouldn’t be offering your prisoner tea, Mr. Lightwood.”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
She pulled her head out of her hands and laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes darted across the room, looking at anything but him. “What would you call me, then? An unwilling guest? I’m trapped here, and you’re trapped with me.”
“I don’t feel so trapped,” he said. “And you shouldn’t, either.”
“And why is that? Does a criminal deserve to feel free?”
“You’re not a criminal, Miss Blackthorn.”
She winced at her surname. “Please, just call me Grace.”
“You are not a criminal, Grace. You did what you had to do in order to survive. Any of us would have done the same if we were put into your situation. It isn’t right of us to blame you for that.”
She sighed, curling in on herself further. Her voice was barely audible. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not quite sure your friends feel the same way.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Christopher said. “It just matters what the clave will think.”
“Don’t even get me started on what the clave is going to think. They may have been the ones to get me into this mess, but they would never get me out of it.”
“What do you mean? The clave— the clave can help you.”
She laughed bitterly. “They can. But they won’t. Do you truly think they’ll sympathize with the accomplice of a prince of hell?”
“Unwilling accomplice,” Christopher insisted. “That’s what you were. And the Mortal Sword will prove it. And then they’ll have to help you. My aunt Charlotte—“
“If you think she’ll go easy on me, you’re sadly mistaken. She’s not my aunt. To me, she’s just the Consul.”
He stood from his seat, crossing the room to sit next to Grace on the floor. “We will get you through this,” he whispered. “I promise you.”
She sat up, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping, Mr Lightwood.”
“Just Christopher, please. And I’ve every intention of keeping this promise.”
She froze, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m afraid you won’t have much of a say in the matter.”
Christopher didn’t know how to respond to that. In the eyes of the clave, he was just a teenager, with no power, no ability to do anything to help Grace. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.
A Flirting Guide For Writers (And Real World Usage)
I reblogged a post a day or so ago, and the result (which made me sad) was mostly people saying that they feel they cannot flirt (and therefore cannot write it effectively).
So I thought I’d share my own, admittedly limited, knowledge (under the guise of writing advice) so that you can all write kick-ass romance and show your feelings like the boss-ass-bitches you are!
The Basics; Eye-Contact, Personal Space, Body Language
The thing about flirting is that most of it is non-verbal, and the world is split between those writers who find this part the easiest, and those who find it the most incomprehensible.
The problem is that it’s all dependent on a fine, mostly unspoken, line which makes the interaction creepy if crossed. When writing a character who is trying to flirt with someone, or when trying to flirt with someone yourself, you need to keep three main things in mind; personal space, body language, and potential restriction. This is especially important for men. The problem is that this is mostly instinctual, and so it can be hard to write if you haven’t had time to develop the right skills yourself.
Personal space
When trying to show that your character is flirting you need to make a note of them moving into the other person’s personal space but not too much. Consider this; someone leaning into your space just a little to speak to you versus someone being practically nose to nose with you. One catches your attention, the other is uncomfortable at best and intimidating at worst. The idea is to lean in enough to show interest and create a sense of intimacy, without becoming overbearing or threatening. As a rule, I find that I begin to feel uncomfortable if a man I’m not sure of gets closer than the distance it would take to perform a ballroom Waltz.
To get an idea of how that looks, hold up your hand at arms length as if pushing someone away or pressing against a wall. Now slowly bend your elbow until the point sits just under your breast or pectoral muscle.
That’s the maximum personal space invasion I allow from people I don’t know well. In my experience, this is common to many women, though others prefer more space. Likewise, in my experience, men I have met seemed perfectly comfortable with me being closer than even that, but I am small, relatively unthreatening, and we have to allow for the fact that we were in the position of viewing each other as romantic interests. Men may prefer more space from other men, or from individuals that they do not see in a romantic light already. This changes from person to person, and noting your characters preference is a good way to show what kind of person they are.
Eye-Contact
Another fundamental which relies on instinct subtlety; conventional wisdom says that you should make eye-contact in order to show interest. Actual wisdom will also tell you that too much becomes intense and a little creepy. If your character holds someone’s eye for too long its becomes fixative rather than flirtatious; it becomes staring. Depending on your character and their interest this can either read as obsessive, creepy, or aggressive.
Flirtatious eye contact can take a few forms;
1 - the “getting caught” method where a person looks at someone and quickly looks away again. When caught have your character (or yourself) look away quickly and then back, hold eye contact for a few moments and then acknowledge the other person. A smile, wink, or nod will suffice for this.
2 - the “lash” method where someone, usually a woman, catches their crushes eye, looks down, and then back up from under the lashes. Also very effective when done by men with big eyelashes.
3 - the “full cheese” method by which someone winks, grins, or wiggles their eyebrows. This is effective when used sparingly.
If your character also touches the person they are flirting with lightly, this will build tension. The touch should be gentle, but obviously deliberate. Avoid possessive gestures like gripping or pulling, however.
Body Language
When flirting, the body language of both people is important; your character should watch their crush for signs of interest and/or discomfort.
Positive signs; leaning in, touching, playing with hair, smiling, licking or biting lips, tilting their head slightly, mirroring.
Negative signs; leaning away, crossing arms, pursing lips, refusing to make eye-contact, raising their shoulders, crossing their legs away from the other person, frowning, clenching jaw, balling fists.
This body language can apply to both characters in the scene.
Advanced Techniques; Verbal Cues, Suggestions, And Other Senses
This is the shit I thrive on, as a writer you will probably feel the same way; I notice the sounds, smells, and textures of another person as well as what they say (in fact, when you read my work you’ll notice that the smell of any romantic lead is noted upon more than once).
Verbal Cues
This is the thing that most people focus upon when it comes to discussions or attempts at flirtation. The verbal sparring that comes with flirting is what really gets our stomachs churning and our hearts pulsing… but why are some people so naturally good at it, while others are… less so?
And why does some of the most vapid and run-of-the-mill stuff seem to work between the right people?
Well, the sad news for your unlovely characters is that physical attraction makes us more likely to respond to even the most poorly constructed of verbal flirtation. Then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder so even the least pretty of characters could find themselves flirting up a storm with the right person.
Verbal cues include;
- Gentle teasing
- Compliments
- Inside jokes
- Using someone’s name (yes, really)
- Asking questions and responding in a thoughtful way
- Sexual innuendo (when used tastefully and sparingly)
Suggestion
This is the easiest to miss or overshoot because it’s a combination of everything else we’ve already covered. For example, your character saying to a friend,
“I’m just going to hop into the shower, talk soon.”
Is not a suggestive statement. Now imagine your character flirting with someone on the phone before sighing and saying,
“I’m going to take a shower… I’ll speak to you soon, ok?”
The difference is subtle but important; the second suggests that they don’t want to stop talking to the other person, that they definitely want to speak to them again as soon as possible, and subtly encourages the other person to consider them in the shower. You see?
Easy to miss, easy to fudge. Suggestion is hard to pull off, and hard to write, but think of it this way - suggestion;
1) Encourages the other person to think of you/your character in an intimate way
2) Implies enjoyment in and desire for their presence
3) Is open-ended and encourages reciprocation
The Other Senses
This is not so much flirting, but the act of making your character/yourself as appealing as possible to another. Personal hygiene, a good fashion sense, and good manners are a part of this.
But -
When writing about this you should not discuss it directly unless your character is making a conscious choice. Instead, focus on the character that yours is focussed upon.
- How do they smell?
- What are the textures of their clothes?
- What manners do they affect?
- Does their voice have a texture?
- Do they touch your character a lot?
- Do they note upon your characters smell or noticeably try to take in their smell?
- Do they react noticeably to your character’s voice or mannerisms?
This is just a basic guide, of course, but if you get this down you’re in a good position to build romantic tension in every walk of life!
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hi! not sure if this makes sense for a prompt but i love very character driven stories with little plot but complicated, interesting characters. so i was wondering if you could think of any scenarios or characteristics that i could use to write about a complicated character and really explore them? thanks!
Hi :)
Not a prompt, but ideas for you.
Character Study
Show them struggling. Show them struggle with a smaller problem and with a bigger problem. Show how different they react to it. Show their complicated relationships with the people around them. Not just close friends, romantic partners and family - show an unusual in fiction, but very natural relationship the character has with someone at work, or the cashier at the supermarket they always go to, or their mailman. Give them something to cry about and something to laugh about. Show them at their best and at their lowest point. Show them feeling exhausted. Show them at a point where they feel unsure about how to feel. Let them make a decision and show their decision-making process. Show a completely normal day in their life and show one that is full of surprises - good or bad.
Exploring a character is about finding yourself in that character in some aspects and feeling completely different in some others. To show that they are not just one layer, you need to show them react differently do different scenerios, sometimes even to the same one. How we act depends a lot on our current state of mind and how we feel. Show that they are not perfect and are able to change and always do.
