On their way to Bambouche, the party stops by a restaurant. A nice meal is had, the sun is setting, the day is winding down.
Until Siffrin sees the couples' deluxe dessert special on the menu.
"Quick, someone pretend to be bonded with me!" Siffrin slaps the menu down with a sweaty palm, fire in his eye and maybe a little drool on his chin.
Odile's hand is on Isabeau's shoulder with the speed and expertise of a handler whose dog was just offered bacon.
"Isabeau," She speaks calm and quiet, as Mirabelle and Bonnie scoot in close to Siffrin, oo-ing and aa-ing at the lavishly illustrated confectionary. "Wait just a moment."
"Madame..." Isa whines with such a shake to both voice and legs (had he really already been on his feet?), that Odile returns to the dog metaphor. She nods her head towards the three at the other end of the table.
They all look as desperate as Isa does right now, starry-eyed and giddy as they point out the obscene number of strawberries, the generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream, and ooh is that lava cake? It's huge, but they can afford it at 50% off!
"I know you need this like a drowning man needs air," Odile doesn't even keep her tone down this time, she's hardly the only one with at least one eye. "but consider:"
Siffrin, Mirabelle, and Bonnie look up at them, curious.
"It would be hilarious to see Siffrin and Mirabelle fail at this spectacularly."
Silence falls across the table. Hands shake. A dry throat tries to swallow.
Isa quietly sits back down in his chair.
"S-sorry, Sif..." Isa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.
"HAH!!!"
"Madame you traitor!!"
"Wait wait wait Isa hold on, we could still--"
"Ah-ah, Isabeau made his decision. Don't be a sore loser now."
"Oh Change--okay, okay I can do this. We can do this, Siffrin!"
"Belle, Belle! Give Frin one of your earrings!"
"... Oh no my ears aren't pierced, why did I never pierce my ears??"
"Just, uh... stick it on your cloak? That might be obvious enough! I think!"
"Okay, yeah--w-wait, what's our story?"
"Story? We need a--oh Change of course we need a backstory! What if they ask us how long we've been bonded?"
"We'll just, we can, um--"
"The waiter's coming back, quick hurry up!!"
-----
A waitress stands next to a portly man in a fine dress shirt, the two of them watching the commotion as the new guy (oh, poor Oliver) tries his best to handle delivering a final dessert order to Vaugarde's Saviors--and finding out Housemaiden Mirabelle is, apparently, betrothed.
He's handling it about as well as his previous interactions, having been ordered not to call attention to the heroes' identity or fame, give them some space to breathe. Things certainly would go a lot smoother if he had any semblance of a poker face, but at least three of them seem to trust his feigned ignorance.
The Housemaiden and her companion with the cloak look like they're about to melt off the table by the time Oliver starts walking off with an empty tray. The kid with them is already digging in, picking off strawberries and laughing uproariously while the tall gentleman across from them vibrates in fits of giggles.
"... Do they know... we would have given them the cake for free...?"
I'm half asleep when I get up from my bed, and sit down next to my ten-year-old self.
"You're an adult. You're not like me." They say.
"I'm still you." I reply with a sadness I wasn't prepared for. "I'm still just like you."
"No," they insist, "you're an authority. An other. Something I don't understand. I don't see myself in you."
"But I see myself in you." I'm desperate, and I don't know why.
"How?"
"You know about infinity, right?" I already know the answer, but I ask anyway.
"Yeah." They look up at me from the scribbles of Pokemon in a math notebook, from the stuffed animals arranged in a town made of blankets. I don't see the life in them anymore, but I remember what it was like to.
"The universe is infinite."
I pick up a stuffed animal. I still have this one, it now sits on a shelf untouched for years. The fabric is still just as soft, just as loved.
"So adults might know more." I say with conviction, surprised it's my own. "But we all carry the same amount of unknowing. We're all just as lost."
My ten-year-old eyes stare at me. I stare back.
"Why is this important to you?" They ask.
"I don't know." I answer truthfully.
"Maybe I'm just still scared of being left behind."
i need this out of my system tbh.... i might draw later but writing is quicker and tests my patience less
this is fucking long and unedited n i lost steam at the end oops
“Not well?” The prince repeats in irritation. The guard near the training room sighs and places a hand on her hip.
“Yes, your highness, Athren has caught some sort of illness and can hardly get out of bed. My deepest apologies, but making him come here in his state wouldn’t be fair to either of you.” She says. Prince Antony’s face scrunches up, but quickly falls back to a disappointed expression. He shoves the sleeves of his loose white sparring shirt up to his elbows.
“There isn’t anyone else at all free, Radeliae? He can’t be the only one who could practice with me, can’t you-” She is already shaking her head before he can finish.
“Your highness, I was sent here just to tell you that he won’t be here. I- we’re fairly strung out as of late, you see. More and more knights getting sick...” She glances up at the prince. Knights, and guards especially have been warned about the unintentional pout that the Havrathen royalty gets when they don’t get what they want. Radeliae has become very familiar with it, but definitely not immune. She sighs once more and takes her keys from her belt.
“I- the most I can do is help you haul out the training dummies. I- I know it’s not really much but it’s something?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I might as well just not.” He leans against the cool stone wall and stares off down the hall. “If Master Tadari isn’t sick of me by now I can just-”
“My, I do hate to interrupt,” A voice sounds from about halfway down the hall behind the prince. “But did I hear my name?”
Antony curses under his breath and smooths his hair before turning around. The guard peers around him just to get a look at the mage who is quickly approaching.
“He heard-?” she begins, before she is distracted by the purple tail curling around her leg. Of course, his cabbat. Damn familiars. Who knows how long the ugly little thing was there for. Chessie purrs and rubs her face on Radeliae’s shin guard before trotting over to Yuguul’s side.
Yuguul stops a good two feet in front of Antony and bows deep enough for the tips of his hair to brush the floor.
“Your highness.” He says before standing back up. Chessie winds herself around his ankles once before she runs off again. “Did I hear that you were paying me a visit in our lovely mage’s tower?”
Antony crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s rude to listen into other people’s conversations, you know.” He says, with perhaps the slightest hint of playfulness in his voice. Yuguul chuckles.
“My deepest apologies, Highness.” He says grinning. He glances toward the guard who’s awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Apologies to you as well, knight Radeliae. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“It’s fine.” She says, appearing as if she is trying to merge into the wall. Yuguul lets out a brief sigh but focuses his attention back up to the tall prince. There is just too long of a pause before Antony remembers that a conversation involves talking, and not just staring at a person.
“I- Yes. It’s fine. This time, anyway. You really should keep a closer eye on that cabbat, you know. She could get in trouble o-or something.” Antony says, mentally beating himself up for every word that comes out of his mouth as he says it. Yuguul smirks.
“Is that an order, Highness, or just a friendly suggestion? Either way, your concern for my familiar is touching.” He says slipping around him and through the open training room door. “Now, what’s all this about you not having a sparring partner, Highness?” His heels click on the white stone of the floor as he walks around the big room lined with weapon racks and straw training dummies.
Antony and Radeliae follow him in, Radeliae just to be sure he doesn’t try anything.
“Well, I was intending to train my sword arm today, but unfortunately it seems as if there is a sickness going around the barracks. My usual partner has fallen ill and I am unable to find a replacement.” Antony explains, watching Yuguul curiously as he approaches him.
“Ah, a shame, then. And to think you’re already dressed for the occasion and everything.” Yuguul flicks the bottom of his training shirt. The guard visibly tenses at him being so close to the prince, but he pretends not to notice. The prince tenses as well, and rushes to tuck his shirt further into his pants.
“I- Yes, yes it’s- why is it are you here, again, Master Tadari?” Antony asks as he watches Yuguul head towards a weapon rack.
“Well, your Highness, if you really are desperate for a sparring partner I am free today.” He says, picking up a dull sword and weighing it in his hands. Antony snorts.
“What do you know about swords?” He asks, watching the mage put the sword back and produce a ribbon from his sleeve to tie back his hair.
“Why your highness, I may be a mage, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about swordplay.” He flashes Antony another grin. Frustratingly, the prince feels his face heat up. He swallows and quickly shakes himself out of it
“Your highness,” The knight pipes up, “I don’t think you should-”
“Radeliae.” The prince cuts her off, not taking his eyes off of Yuguul. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t see what he can do. Besides. You have other things to attend to, don’t you?” He glances over his shoulder. She opens her mouth to protest, but closes it. She looks to Yuguul, then back to the prince and sighs, defeated.
“Sir?”
“Dismissed, Radeliae. Give Athren my well wishes won’t you?” She gives a short nod before bowing and leaving the room, her armor clinking together as she heads down the hall. Antony turns his attention back to Yuguul.
“You can’t really fight in that thing, can you?” Antony asks nearing the wall where the two handed swords hang.
“You can’t really fight with those things, can you?” Yuguul teases, returning the much smaller one that he had picked up. “I suppose you’re right, though.” He says, beginning to pull his coat over his head. “I don’t remember if I am wearing a shirt under this though, Highness. My apolog- oh no, there it is.” He tosses the shiny grey mass of fabric aside unceremoniously. “Oh, look, we match!”
Yuguul has a similarly baggy white shirt on, though his exposes even more shoulder than Antony’s. The sleeves are nearly skin tight, where Antony’s are not, though. That is about the extent of them matching, though. Antony’s pants are tight and he is wearing far more practical shoes.
“Mmmh. Are you sure you’re not going to use magic, Yuguul? I don’t like a cheater.” Says Antony, walking across the room with a sword nearly the length of his leg. Yuguul grins and tightens his ponytail. It’s slightly unnerving for Antony to see his hair back. Not even the threat of catching it on fire was ever enough for him to tie it.
“Of course not, Antony.” Says Yuguul, retrieving his practically-just-a-dagger sword. The prince feels a chill go up his spine at the sound of his own name. “Unless you want me to. Perhaps the threat could break your own ancestral magic out of its dormancy, hm?” Antony rolls his eyes.
“Please. I’ve had enough with magic for the time being. At least I actually know how to do this.”
“Enough with magic...” Says Yuguul, false offended. He puts a hand over his heart. “I take great offence to that, Antony.” Antony rolls his eyes and firmly grips the hilt of his sword.
“Oh, of course you are. I hope you don’t bruise easily, Yuguul. Are you sure you don’t want a shield. Or, perhaps an actual sword?”
“Your highness, could you possibly be stalling? I know it will be hard to stare at my gorgeous features while you’re trying to knock me down, but my goodness...” Yuguul grins, framing his face with his free hand.
“Alright, alright, enough. En garde!” Antony takes the first swing, and Yuguul quickly widens his stance and gets a good grip on his dull practice sword. Instead of ducking, as Antony is used to his opponent doing, Yuguul leans back, narrowly getting a blade to the nose. The smile is still plastered on his face when he quickly leans into a hand stand, keeping hold of his sword, and then back into a standing position. Antony brings his heavy sword back around and this time Yuguul ducks, rolls forward, and smacks Antony hard in the back of one of his knees with his sword hilt.
“Argh!” Antony almost immediately drops to his knees dropping his sword with a loud clatter. Yuguul chuckles and puts the dull blade near Antony’s throat.
“Do I win?” Yuguul asks, walking around to offer Antony his hand.
“Ugh, yes, that time. And give me a second! That hurt dammit...” Yuguul watches with a smug little smile on his face as Antony rubs the back of his leg.
“What was that, thirty, twenty seconds?” He teases. “Blazes, what kind of training are they giving you here, Highness?” Antony huffs, attempting to stand up, but wobbling.
“Training against soldiers! Not... whatever that was supposed to be. Ah... How hard did you hit me? Ancestor above...”
“Oh, so hurtful. ‘Whatever that was.’ Do you want me to see if I can fix your leg, Highness? At least enough for you to move? You don’t strike me as someone who only wants to go one round.” Antony rolls his eyes, but nods. Yuguul kneels down next to him and presses his fingers against the back of his knee. Antony winces, but curiously watches a blue light pulse from the mage’s hand.
Yuguul keeps his hand there for a few seconds before taking it back.
“There bette-” Yuguul catches the prince’s eye, who quickly turns his head. “You know, we are really going to have to work on your staring habits. So rude, Antony.” He gently baps Antony’s kneecap and stands back up. “Better, my glass boned prince?” He offers his hand once more.
Antony takes it, rolling his eyes again.
“Don’t push it, Tadari. Thank you for healing the wound you caused in the first place. I can move, at least.” Yuguul snickers and retrieves his sword from the floor, Antony does the same.
“Once more, Highness? May I do the honors?” Antony steadies himself and gives Yuguul a short nod. “Then en garde!”
Yuguul launches himself at Antony with a very loose grip on the hilt of his sword. Antony has just enough time to put the flat of his sword up to defend himself. Yuguul grins and kicks off the flat, sending Antony backwards. He keeps his footing, but only just so. Yuguul lands in a three point stance and rolls forward as Antony runs at him, making it between his legs and behind him. Antony quickly swings around, as not to let Yuguul knock him down the same way twice. Yuguul rolls backwards and jumps back up when he’s far enough away again.
“Doing better, this time, Highness.~” he says, looking for an opening on the prince. Antony draws nearer and swings down, almost like he’s aiming to split Yuguul in two. Yuguul jumps to the side, then forward, elbowing him in the ribs. Antony wheezes, but manages to pull back his sword in time to hit his opponent in the gut. Yuguul stumbles back, the breath knocked out of him, but still trying to avoid getting hit. Antony manages to spin fast enough to use the flat of his blade to smack Yuguul in the back, knocking him to the ground face first.
“Oof!” Yuguul’s head makes an ugly smacking sound when he hits the stone floor, which goes nicely with the clattering of his small blade. “Alright, ow...” Antony snickers and kneels next to him.
“You alright, Tadari?” He asks, grinning. Yuguul rolls over onto his back and drapes one of his hands over his forhead dramatically.
“Absolutely not. I bit my tongue on my way down. Come look at it.” Antony, perhaps against his better judgement, scoots himself a little closer, setting his sword down. Yuguul quickly retrieves his letter opener sword and jumps on Antony, pinning him to the floor and, once again, holding the blade to his throat.
“No fair, we were done!” Antony protests, squirming under Yuguul. Yuguul keeps his wrists pinned with one hand. The prince feels the heat rising to his face in his struggles to escape.
“Never let your guard down! You’ve obviously never been to Vrathaen, Highness. Or, at least, the less desirable areas of my gorgeous home country.”
“Get off of me!” He says wiggling even more.
“Oh alright, fine, Antony.” Yuguul releases his hands and tosses his sword aside, standing up and away from him. The bun Antony had his hair up in is starting to come undone. He sits up and blows some stray strands out of his face.
“Shall we go once more, Highness? I’m starting to enjoy this, I think. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten into something so physical.” Sighs Yuguul, rocking on his heels. He holds his face in his hands with a dreamy expression. Antony huffs.
“I wasn’t going to let you out of here until I actually knocked you down anyway.” Antony retrieves his sword from the ground with a determined gleam in his eye. Yuguul grins and darts for his sword.
“Excellent! En garde!”
Hours seem to pass in the training room. The sound of swords clattering echo out the hall, and some intrigued maids had stopped to watch the prince to get pummeled by the newest addition to the castle’s mage staff. A few concerned ones left buckets of water near the door just so they don’t need to call anyone for it. The sky is red and orange and blazing through the windows by the time they finally decide to call it quits.
