*Warning: This story contains gay content in a fantasy world. Any negative comments about the main characters sexual orientation will be deleted.*
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This wasn't a place I wanted to be. One this side of the war. We were losing. Actually, I'm pretty sure that we had lost. My father had received word that the last of our defenses had failed. The Sygrians were headed to the castle. My brother and I stood behind my father as he looked out the window behind his throne, waiting for the enemy warriors to approach. It took hours before we saw the first signs of them.
"How did it get this way, my sons?" My father asked, defeated. We had warred for almost five years. We stood equal on the battlefield until the last 10 months. The enemy finally broke through and started destroying our warriors, getting closer and closer to the castle. I longed to be on the field, but I'm still recovering from an injury. An injury that has put me off the field for over 5 months. If the war had lasted another month, I would have been out there with my warriors giving my last breath. But I'm stuck here, watching as the enemy approaches.
The men outside stopped at the outer wall of the castle. A small troop of men rode inside, white flag raised.
"We shall meet them," my father said, turning to clasp my older brother's shoulder before turning and leading us out to meet them. As we made our journey out to meet with the victor, I feared what they would demand of us. The death of my father? Of all three of us? Or worse, sending us into slave camps? There were other rumors. Those they found pleasing, they sent as another sort of slave where women were sent. At least I didn't face that. I hoped.
My father stopped just short of the men awaiting us. Two horse lengths were all that separated us from our enemy. My hand itched to draw a weapon, but I overcame the urge and let my arms rest at my sides. My father was dressed grandly, in velvet, befitting his station as king. As was my brother, as both prince and next in line for the throne. I was dressed in leathers. Leathers we used to train in. I felt out of place next to my brother and father. I felt more like a bodyguard than a prince.
A horse carrying who was probably the commander of the enemies troops, stepped forward slightly.
"Greetings, King Jarius. We have come to discuss terms. Shall we look over what my king has sent?"
At my father's nod, the man dismounted. He wore leather pants that showcased his thick, muscled legs. A leather vest with metal plating to protect his stomach, his arms bare except for wrist gauntlets with his king's crest on them. He was covered in blood and gore. I was envious. He fought with his men until the last. As he strode past me, I realized he was almost 5 inches taller than me. He was strong and built of muscle. I know knew I wouldn't have survived him if we met in battle. He had decades to build muscle, while I had just over one under my belt. But I still would have rather met him on the battlefield than here, as he stood victorious over us.
He nodded to his men and two men stepped forward, while the rest took charge of their horses and turned to go back to their men. I was the last to turn and follow our enemy and my father as they made their way to find a private space to discuss terms.
I turned to enter the room with my father and the commander's men, but my father stopped me. I was to wait outside, along with the commander's men. I hid the hurt inside and stepped to stand on the opposite of the corridor of the commander's men. Hours passed as they deliberated. Never once did anyone in that room raise their voice. We heard nothing outside. The commander's men stood still, never moving, never growing restless. I tried to mirror their behavior, but it was hard. I wanted to demand to know what was going on, I wanted to be in that room with my brother.
As it grew dark outside, my father finally emerged from the room. But it was only long enough to send me on an errand. As if I weren't a prince, as if I were a servant, not his son. I was to bring them candles to read by and to have the servants light the torches in the corridors, we would have a feast this night. I dutifully retrieved the candles and relayed the king's message. Returning to the room, I knocked and waited for someone to open the door. It was my brother. He took the candles from me and shut the door without a word.
I couldn't stay here. I left the corridor and turned to the feast hall. Our servants were in a frenzy trying to get everything ready for a feast tonight. I didn't step all the way in. I was able to glance in without being seen. Inside were, I assumed, what was left of our warriors. They all knelt, stripped naked, arms tied behind their back and blindfolded. This would have been my fate if I had survived the battlefield. The men had gone mostly ignored, but their cheeks were tinged with blushes of embarrassment. I decided that I didn't want to find out what happened next. I would flee the castle, this very moment. I turned and ran into what felt like a solid wall. Only, it was a well muscled chest. When I looked up, the commander was looking down at me. His face blank, unreadable. Then slowly a smile spread across his face.
I stepped around him, looking for my father. The corridor behind him as empty. My heart sank. I took a deep breath and took another step away, only to have the commander reach out and grab my wrist.
"Where are you going, young prince?" His voice held no menace, it was rich and deep. Pleasant, even. If we were in any other situation, I might have wanted to hear what he had to say.
"To find my father," my voice came out shaky. I had hoped the commander hadn't noticed, but when I looked back, I knew he did.
"No need. He is on his way to discuss matters with you." The commander's men were suddenly behind me. He let go of my wrist, motioned for me to follow him, and entered the feast hall. I had no desire to enter, but his men shuffled me inside. My father sat at the right of his usual seat. Where my brother normally would sit. My brother sat at his right. The commander sat in the king's chair and motioned me into my normal chair. I had no idea why I would sit here, my brother should have since my father was in his place.
I sat, drawing the chair as far away from the commander as manners would allow. His lips quirked up but he dismissed the action and turned to my father. I sat, unable to look up at my fellow warriors. I stared at my lap instead. Finally, my father cleared his throat, drawing my attention.
