Dornröschen (Squeeze/Tama)

[Tama]

His mother had always warned him about that forest,about the ancient and eldritch magics that haunted the stunted pines on those mountain slopes. Two days directly north from the ancestral seat on its great hill, you could just see the beginnings of it, like stubble rising from a smooth lass's face, a blight. Ill repute surrounded it, had always surrounded that misted corner of the kingdom. Ah, but this he, this young man whose disappearance brought this place its name of "Prince's Bane", what of him?

 

Born into the royal household of a small but powerful nation, Alberté had been the second of three sons, younger than the prince regent, Berent by little over a year, but holding a fraction of his power. This had not bothered Alberté as it had bothered his younger sibling, Ferez and instead, he had turned from studying power, in his brother's footsteps, to follow in the footsteps of his uncle, holding the purse strings of power, if not the reigns. Unlike Berent and Ferez, he had hardly been a man of the sword, instead sharpening his intellect in the libraries of the nation.

 

It was here, perhaps, that he first came across his bane, that unnamed forest that had drawn so many bards and poets to describing the countless daemons and faeries that flitted its shadow'd glades. He had begun to collect information on it, bringing together various accounts of the place, from scraps of information written on yellowing, cracked parchments, to reports by court mages. All had been...lacking; second hand accounts scribbled down by foolhardy knights errant about to embark into its depths and handed to those who had remained without, testimonies dragged from dying men. Everything was lacking. No-one ever returned from those glades, accursed or blessed. The more religious either regarded them as a gateway to the underworld, the mist smokes from the pits... or somehow a door into the faery world, or even paradise.

 

He announced his plan to his mother and father, a half-moon before his 22nd birthday, describing the wood as the last great mystery of their kingdom. His father, shrugging, had called it a worthy task for any man, but his mother...ah. She was of northern stock, and many thought of them, as they do now as a superstitious sort, clinging a little too keenly to old traditions. She had begged him not to go, imploring him that mysteries are best left unsolved. But he...he had been adamant, leaving the next day just after sunlight.

 

The last person to see him alive, before he vanished from time, magicked away by who knows what, was a young squire, preparing his master's horse on that second morning after Alberté had left the castle. Nothing untoward. Merely a young prince riding in traveling clothes. His direction had seemed a little odd, what with the rumors of the place, but...he may have been mistaken. A few days later, his horse had been found, wandering with a snapped rope attached to her harness. A few more days later, men having pored every corner of the nation, the king had announced tragic news. His second son, Prince Alberté, had gone into the forest, and was presumed dead. Grief-struck, the nation had daubed that haunted, dark, ill-fated place "Prince Alberté's Bane".

 

 

- - - - -

 

And there history ended and tales began. Bards began to sing of a woman of the forest who had seduced poor, bookish Alberté, carried the beautiful, (and most of the tales embellished Alberté's not inconsiderable looks) young man away to her castle in another land. Others told of a young man driven on by the thrill of new discoveries, brought low by this accursed forest. Yet more suggested that, beneath the thicket and thorn, perhaps in another land, Alberté lived on, either as king of the forest, or as the prisoner of some dark thing. Knights set out to rescue the young man, or, driven on by tales of everything from gold to fair maids of the trees, to explore the forest. As with the prince, none returned, sad tale upon sad tale streaming from the harps and lyres of bards and courtiers. In the fifteenth winter of his reign, some two score and three years after Alberté's disappearance, Berent, now king, had forbade further adventures to the forest on pain of death. The flow of fallen, missing knights slowed, then stopped.

 

Not a single man now entered the forest, and it grew, unabated, like a cancer, eating up villages on its outskirts, growing darker and sharper, an army of trees fanning out across the landscape, till it bristled from one end of the range to the other, and from the white peaks to the valleys cut down into the world's dark flesh by the winter's thaw. Nearly five score winters since the prince disappeared, the kingdom had all but forgotten the man that forest had swallowed up, and the law forbidding entry to it, tempered into superstition and stories to scare the children at night...

 

The prince, still somewhere, overgrowth'd skeleton, or warm flesh, in that forest...had all but been forgotten by his land, and by his descendents, naught but a name on sprawling family trees...

 

A memory.

[SqueezeBabe]

He was small; smaller than the others... "Vivi! Come and practice!" He pouted, sulked. "Don't wanna!" The terseness of a child. "You won't get big and strong if you don't." A soft hand ruffled his hair and Vivienne looked up into the bright eyes of his sister Alison, the kindness in them causing unbidden tears to fall. "I'm so small!" he wailed, "They always beat me!" She knelt before him, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her dress, "I'll tell you a secret," she whispered "Big brother was as small as you once..." His eyes widened in disbelief, "Really? But he's so big! Bigger than everyone else!" She smiled and pulled him to his feet, picking up the discarded practice sword and handing it to him, "Big brother practiced every day, until no one could beat him. If you want to grow big and strong like him, you will need to do the same." Vivienne gripped the wooden sword with renewed determination. "I'm going to be strong! Just like big brother!"

 

X-----X-----X-----X

 

Sweat trickled down the side of his face and dripped from his jaw. His dark hair was plastered to his head and he was breathing heavily. His gaze sharp, his concentration unwavering. With a speed unheard of in someone his size, he lunged forward, his sword whistling through the air. There was a clang of steel; hard enough to send sparks flying, and his opponents sword clattered against the cobblestones. His own sword against the others neck, his eyes cold and devoid of emotion, this man was the enemy, this man was... "Gods Vivi! It's only practice!" Vivienne blinked and shook his head, giving his partner a sheepish grin. "Gosh! I'm sorry Sam, I kinda lost myself there for a moment." Vivienne rubbed the back of his head, still grinning. Sam couldn't help but smile back, "That was a good match there Vivi, I hope I never have to fight against you for real. Let's clean up and get something to eat, there's some really nice smells coming from the kitchen! Do you think that Cook will let us sneak something?" The two laughed and joked with the familiarity borne of a childhood friendship, one that had started when they were only small boys, and had continued to where they were now. "Hey, it's your birthday soon! How does it feel to be an old man at 25?" Sam was teasing him again. "You should know! You're already there!" Vivienne shot back. He enjoyed the joking and teasing, it made him feel normal, like he could almost forget...

 

"Prince Vivienne! I'll not have you stealing food out of the kitchen like some common thief!" Vivienne winced, turning and facing the castle steward who continued on with his chastisement "Need I remind you that you have a hunting expedition this afternoon? Go clean yourself up this instant and don't keep such important guests waiting!" Vivienne knew better than to argue with the steward when he was like this, but he couldn't help the smile on his lips as he remembered that he was always getting into trouble like this. His parents were matchmaking again. He wasn't the oldest son, but he still had value as a marriage commodity, and thus quite the eligible bachelor. His mother had invited yet another family, with yet another pretty daughter to come and stay with them, but unlike the others, this one had brothers and they wanted to go hunting.

 

The steward reached up and grabbed his ear, tugging on it, "Whilst you may be as tall and strong as an oak tree, I am still the steward of this castle and you are years too young to escape punishment!" Vivienne laughed and let himself be dragged off by the steward, leaving Sam to go raid the kitchen on his own, "Save me some!" he called out, earning another tug of his ear, "Owwww!"

 

Once out of sight, the steward released his hold on Vivienne's ear. "Young Master" he said with a sigh, "You can't forget that you promised to take the young dukes out hunting. Your clothes are already laid out, your bath is ready. All you need to do is get in it, the servants will take care of the rest." The steward was scowling. "Is something the matter?" Vivienne asked. There was another sigh. "Whilst the young duchess is the epitome of womanly virtue, her brothers are somewhat... baser. I would advice the Young Master to not let himself be.. led astray" Vivienne chuckled, hiding his smile under his hand. "I think it's a bit late for that now, don't you think?" The steward scowled even more, "There is something off about them" he grumbled.

 

X----X-----X-----X

 

The forest was dark and cool, the breeze shifting the leaves, the sunlight dappling on the forest floor. Vivienne cursed to himself. The brothers had disappeared, either intentionally or by accident. There wasn't much game in the forest to begin with, sure, along the edges of the forest, where the trees were still relatively new and the sunlight penetrated the canopy. But the further you went in, the darker it became, and with the darkness came a sense of foreboding. Vivienne shook his head to clear away the thoughts that sprang to mind, the old legends of people going into the forest and never returning. Looking about into the quiet gloom, he could imagine how such legends came about. It was eerily quiet, not even the birds were chirping. He felt something against his boot and looked down. He'd dislodged a toadstool. It's bright red cap vibrant in the gloom. He moved the uprooted fungus with his boot, taking care not to crush it as who knew what spores it would release. The breeze blew, the leaves of the trees rustling as they moved with the wind, the sunlight shifting. A glint caught his eye. Further into the gloom he could see a figure lying against a tree. Was it one of the brothers?

 

Vivienne hurried over to the figure, calling out. The figure didn't stir at the sound of his voice, and when he got nearer, he could see it wasn't one of the brothers, but someone else, the clothes were a little strange, he'd not seen clothes like that except for in his history books. He reached over and shook the shoulder of the figure. "Hey, can you hear me?" The strangers chest rose and fell rhythmically. He's asleep? Vivienne was a bit confused. Who on earth would be sleeping in this place? He shook the shoulder again, "Hey now, wake up!" he called again, but still the figure slept. A thought crossed his mind. The fairy tales of old had stories about waking princess' from their slumber with a kiss from a prince. He chuckled to himself, whilst he was indeed a Prince, the figure before him didn't really look like a princess. Vivienne studied the face of the sleeping stranger. He kinda looks familiar somehow he thought to himself. He tried shaking the figure again, but still nothing. He yelled, he clapped, he even slapped the figure across the face, and still he slept on. Vivienne was getting frustrated, and out of that frustration he leaned in and planted his lips against the sleeping figure.

 

Soft

[Tama]

Soft

 

That was the first feeling that came back to him, softly, as if the very sensation of being was washing back over him, like soft surf over sandcoated feet. It was warm and soft, and, as the feeling slowly began to return to his fingers...this was not his bed, not the soft linen, warmed by the first fires of the day, or the sun's rays through opened curtains, nor the feeling of another's bed, not that he had often shared his sleep with others...this was...an altogether more natural warmth. Grass, thin and dry and stunted under his fingers, a little moss. Warm from sunlight, though not as warm as it should be for summer.

 

A sudden thought, as his sense of touch drifted back to him

He had been sleeping, on short dry grass and moss, in sunlight. When had he fallen asleep on such a comfortable piece of ground...and how long had he fallen asleep? From the pale light on his eyelids, he guessed somewhere before midday, but shadows kept moving across him, one in particular casting recurrent blinks of shadow across the soft red. But...something kept his eyes closed, kept his vision as red and dark flashes.

 

Where was he?

 

Dead grass and moss...woodland? Perhaps. The grasses of his nation grew thick and straight on the wide plains, and from his reading, only where the sun did not fall and the far north had stunted grass, whilst moss grew largely in the damp places of the world and the warmth of the sun suggested this was not the ice-clad north. And behind him, as his senses heightened, bark. He had fallen asleep against a tree. A childhood memory, of dozing under a tree, books dotted around him, that same dryad dance, the sway of branches.

 

And then a thump, followed by another, and another in quick repetition. A heavy person, maybe running. A yell, a deep voice, coming from somewhere above him. He fought to open his eyes, see who had joined him, see his surroundings, to yell back a greeting, or question the newcomer. He lost, his vision and voice stilled before they could be risen to service.

 

What had happened to him?

Why couldn't he raise his voice? Why couldn't he move? What...magic...for it must be magic, had been cast on him, to paralyze his voice, his limbs, even his eyes? He couldn't remember a forest, couldn't remember lying down to sleep.

Why had it happened?

 

Yelling, shaking. This man, for it must be a man, was trying to wake him, and it was frustrating to lie here, unable to respond, unable to fight against whatever had been cast upon him, useless. He wondered who this man was-maybe his father, finally cracking to his mother's worries, had sent the royal guard...or maybe he was a bandit, chancing upon him, and bound to ransom him.

The blow came, thus, as a surprise, a sudden sting. Definitely a bandit, or a man growing frustrated with this doll-like man before him. Either way, this man was bad, violent, angry. He wanted to move, tried to move, failed, failed. He wanted to run. Run away from this violent man.

 

And then.

Warmth, hot against his soft lips, the brush of bristling stubble against his own clean-shaved cheeks. The smell of meat, and a little ale on the other man's breath. It was hardly a kiss promising anything, merely a soft press of lips against lips. He felt his hand twitch, involuntary against the sudden kiss.

He could move.

He opened his eyes a little, and met another's gaze.

 

Light.

[SqueezeBabe]

You can't be serious? Vivienne couldn't believe that this stranger was waking up from a kiss. It was a pretty shabby effort as far as he was concerned, nothing more than the perfunctory brushing of lips, but whatever it was, it had worked. He watched the eyelids crack open and waited for whoever it was to wake up properly. He was curious to say the least. Where had this person come from? Why were they dressed like they were out of a history book? Vivienne took that moment to reflect, a thoughtful look crossing his face. As simple a kiss it was, he couldn't help but notice how soft the strangers lips were, almost like a girls...

 

He looked at their surroundings whilst he waited. This part of the forest seemed darker and older, and there eerily silent. He tried to remember the old stories about the forest, but couldn't remember anything that felt important. He reached and shook the strangers shoulder "Hey, come on now, the sun is going to set soon, and we can't be stuck here when it does." Vivienne wasn't worried about spending a night in the forest, after all, Sam and he had done it as children, but the brothers were still at large, and it wouldn't be good manners to have them remain lost. He frowned at himself, his mother would have an absolute fit if she'd found out that they'd gotten lost in the first place. He stood slowly, it seemed that this stranger was taking his sweet time to wake up.

 

He walked over to his horse and retrieved his canteen and some travel jerky. Whoever it was might actually be hungry or thirsty, and Vivienne couldn't see a pack or other horse tracks. So just where had he come from?

[Tama]

He straightened up, pushing himself to a sitting position against the tree, hand softly stroking his chapped, but still soft lips. He'd been awoken...by a kiss? He looked wildly around, expecting to see a small gaggle of men stood off in the distance of the pale-lit forest, but no. This man, standing now, having muttered something Alberté hadn't understood in his half-daze was alone, his huge bay horse sentinel. With his eyes adjusting to the patchy brightness of the clearing, he turned his attention to the man-the man who, with dawning realisation, Alberté realised must have kissed him-before him.

 

From his half slumped position, legs and arms still frustratingly numb, he seemed an armored mountain, all glinting but well-used plate, shaggy dark hair, like the wool of some hardy Northland sheep, and broad. He had been kissed by other men before, usually under the spell of drink, but they had been skinny bards who'd charmed with song and tune, into his affections for a brief time, then passed on, or close friends, who had shared the dawning of their collective adulthoods with each other by candlelight. None of them had been musclebound men, nor warriors, but thinkers, the pillowtalk invigorating the mind as the sex preceding it had invigorated the body.

 

Yet, this black haired tower of a man had kissed him.

 

And here he came now, all clanking and heavy bootsteps, leaning down to hand him something. The smell of meat. A grumble from his stomach. How long ago had he eaten? A few hours, maybe just after sundown yesterday at the latest...and yet his stomach ached with hunger. He half snatched the tough meat from him, breaking off a piece and half-choking as he chewed and then swallowed it. It was oddly prepared, though, the taste that accompanied the meat unfamiliar, as though the meat had been smoked over unfamiliar wood. Another bite, and another, demolishing the jerky quickly. He took the proffered canteen, mumbling an apologetic "Sorry, it's been ages since...", took a few gulps, and handed the battered canteen back, smiling softly.

"I'm sorry...Sir Knight...I suppose my father sent you after me? I hope you haven't been searching for long...and sorry about the food..."

Hand against the tree, he hauled himself to his feet. Up close, the knight was...oddly handsome. Perhaps five, maybe six summers older, though that beard made it difficult to be sure, a weather-beaten but still, in a rugged sort of way, oddly pleasing face. He looked like the sort of knight from the old stories, of knights tilling for the hand of fair maidens, or battling monsters from the sea to rescue sacrificed girls.Though he was over a head taller than Alberté himself, he never seemed the sort of man who would use his great height or strength for anything but good. In short, a model knight.

 

Alberté pulled his cloak around him, realising for the first time, quite how cold it was in the shade, and how quickly the sun was sinking, and turned to his new companion

"We should get going, Sir Knight...Ah, what is your name anyway? Sorry, it sounds so formal to...you know"

A soft curl of his oh-so-soft lips into a frown. "Even though Father says I should be formal at all times outside of my personal friends..."

He trailed off, and wandered over to the horse.

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne shook his head to himself. This person had a strange way of speaking. It wasn't that he couldn't understand him, for they were surely speaking the same language, but the stranger was speaking it... differently. Vivienne shivered. It was getting colder, and darker, and unbidden came the memories of stories long forgotten, about the forest at night, and how strange things happened, of people disappearing, never to be found again... He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture to dispel the feelings of dread. He cleared his throat, "My name is Vivienne" he offered.

 

He watched the stranger approach his horse, "Um, I wouldn't get too close to him if I was you" he called out, "He's a warhorse" Saxon (the horse) was huge even by horse standards, he was 18 hands high of solid muscle and pure black. He looked as if he came straight from a nightmare, and only a few could handle him without getting kicked or bitten. The last thing he needed was for the newly awakened stranger to get trampled by the beast. He was sure that it wasn't just fanciful thinking that even the horse was feeling slightly disturbed in this part of the forest.

 

"I, uh, I have some companions that I need to locate. Once we get back to the castle, you can tell me all about this, er, little adventure where you happen to be sleeping in this part of the forest. Come, you must be cold and hungry, when we get back, we'll contact your relatives and see you safely home." Vivienne was at a bit of a loss with what to do with the stranger, but had no doubt that once his mother laid eyes on him, she'd go into mother-hen mode, all clucking and carrying on... he sighed inwardly.

 

He approached his horse, grabbing the bridle, and bringing the horses face close to his own. "Be good and there is a sugar cube in it for you when we get back" The horse snorted at him as if to call him out on his bluff, and Vivienne sidestepped a large hoof. "Oy! None of that now!" he scolded the horse as he would a small child. The horse huffed a few times, but then stood perfectly still. He held his hand out to the stranger, "Here, let me help you up"...

[Tama]

Vivienne

 

What a beautiful name, and one he'd never heard before, a name that ran off the tongue like one of the heroes of old; it fitted its bearer well, the muscular heroic man on his huge charger. A black knight, on a black horse, in the dark of the forest, all messy hair and heavy armour. A perfect beginning to a story.

 

His accent was...odd. The language the same, a few words in particular pronounced as though they were from someone from the South, where words were lyrical, like the cries of birds, rather than the harsh barks of the North. And yet, that deep voice was sweet, like honey, and gentle. Alberté shivered, staring up at the older man's huge horse.

Ah yes. Every hero needed his charger. Firio of Westerford had had Stormfury, the warrior maiden Ela the mare Elvenstar, and so on. They were, closer to, well matched, the horse a black shape against the darkening sky. Gods, this man must be brave to ride a mountain like that, or even mad. His own Kara had been mild-mannered, gentle, the ideal horse for a rider to learn. Where was she? He...couldn't remember...

 

He turned from the warhorse, shivering softly. Had it really got that dark so quickly? He looked around, catching Vivienne's eye, smiling softly at his offer of help, of food, of warmth. He wondered if the horse had a gentle side, like his master. Not likely he decided, eying up the pawing mount. And yet, as Vivienne leant close, whispering in that deep, warm voice, and then turned to him, offering him a hand into the saddle, he smiled. They suited each other.

 

Taking the proffered aid, he clambered into the saddle. He really wasn't used to being on a horse this large, and he almost blushed with embarrassment, his lean legs only just enough to wrap around the muscled, warm flanks of the horse. And yet, there was something very reassuring about the bulk beneath. He turned, gazing down at the black-haired man, pulling his cloak around his slight form.

"Where do you think your friends are, Sir Vivienne?"

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne gave the stranger a boost into the saddle, noting that he'd not offered his own name in return. He shrugged inwardly; the stranger seemed to give off an air that he should be known, much like most of the nobility, however, Vivienne had never seen the stranger before, and he didn't even bear a resemblance to any of the nobility that he knew... well, once they were back at the castle, no doubt his mother would be able to figure out which family the stranger belonged to. Once it looked like the stranger was settled in the saddle, Vivienne swung himself upwards with ease and sat himself behind. He leaned in close, picking the reins up on either side. "You might have to hang on, it's probably a bit higher than what you're used to." He flicked the reins lightly urging Saxon into a trot.

 

The horse moved easily through the forest, it's large gait eating the ground up quickly. "I have no idea where my companions are, but i'm sure that they can't be too far away..." Vivienne was loath to use the word "friends" as the two brothers were certainly not friends, not like how he and Sam were friends, or even the other castle boys for that matter. The steward was certainly right about there being something "off" about the two of them. He winked down at the stranger, "You might want to cover your ears for a bit..." Vivienne paused for a moment to remember the brothers names, then took a deep breath. "DAMON! BRADLEY!" It was a full battle yell, the sound carrying through the forest easily. He paused for a moment, listening to the answering silence for any sound that might give a clue as to where the brothers were.

 

He tilted his head, he could hear muffled sounds off in the distance. "Ah, I think we've found them.." he said as he guided the horse in the direction of the noise.

[Tama]

As the huge black horse clattered and crunched its way through the forest, every impact of those mighty hooves, potent and dangerous, jolting Alberté's slight fram3, the young man began to wonder about the rider behind him, the curve of his battered plate felt even through the thick cloak he wore. Sir Vivienne kissed me. That thought flicked back and forth through his mind, over and over. Worse, he hit me. How dare he! A noble he may be, but heavy was the price, his father had always reminded him, for striking a member of the Royal Family.

 

And then there was the paralysis, the thing, whatever it was, that had kept his eyes glued shut, his limbs unmoving as a corpse's. His mother had warned him about such things, and, for all his father's deriding of faeries and the like, her Northern superstition had been justified.

And yet....

And yet, despite the blow that, even now, was forming a small, dark bruise on his cheek...Sir Vivienne was every inch the storybook knight; tall, muscular, good looking, just and fair. Had he known the man entirely by stories, little details, little imperfections would have been smoothed away, like stones on a beach, leaving only the bards' muse, the poet's subject. Sir Viviene spoke suddenly, in the half-light, that deep, sweet voice breaking the reverie.

"I have no idea where my companions are, but i'm sure that they can't be too far away..."

He sounded annoyed, wielding the word "companions" like it was some sort of insult. Whoever these companions were, the older man barely hid his contempt for them. If Sir Vivienne did not like them, then they couldn't be good people-as his brother had said, a man of the sword always watched his tongue...for Sir Vivienne to talk like this suggested that he could barely hide his disgust.

 

Sir Vivienne leaned down, winking softly, telling him in that dark honeyed whisper to cover his ears. Alberté thanked the darkness silently that Vivenne couldn't see his face clearly, the hot feeling of a blush across his cheeks. He nodded, and, following the knight's orders put his hands across his ears. Even though he couldn't hear the other man's yell, he felt it, wincing softly, at how loud the man was-even though he had watched pitched battle before, the din of his muffled voice loud as an army. He removed his hands, turning to stare up at Sir Vivienne as they both listened. Close to again, he was more handsome than that first close-quarters glance had suggested, the thick stubble covering a handsome face. Another soft blush, and then a sudden jolt as Sir Vivienne spurred the horse into action once more.

As if to reply, as Alberté straightened himself in the saddle, the knight muttered "Ah, I think we've found them..". From the tone of voice the older man was using, these were not people that he particularly wanted to meet.

[SqueezeBabe]

As the horse trotted in the direction of the sounds, Vivienne was sure that the brothers were up to something.. questionable. They came across another clearing, much like the one that Vivienne had found his companion in. The brothers were standing close to each other.. perhaps a little too close. Vivienne called out to them and they both looked up. The younger of the two looked... guilty? His face was heavily flushed, and his hair was wet; his clothes looking slightly crumpled. The elder of the two looked much the same, except his face wasn't nearly as red, and he didn't look guilty; rather he looked put out over something. "Ah, glad to see I have found your Graces" he said graciously, "The hour grows late, and we best be gone from this place, as you can see, you're not the only ones who have become lost" he added in reference to his companion.

 

"Ah, your Highness" the older brother said, "My apologies for causing any distress, my brother was unseated from his horse, and we took our time cleaning up" he waved his hand in the direction of a small stream, "We were just cleaning ourselves up over there, and lost track of the time, the water being quite pleasant." The duke's manners were impeccable of course, but Vivienne couldn't shake the feeling that something else was amiss. The swimming and whatnot would explain why the younger brother looked quite disheveled. Vivienne shook his head slightly in annoyance. "Well, come on then, best he hurry back, or else my mother will have a fit that i've kept you out this long."

 

The ride back was done quickly and in silence, the group leaving the edge of the forest just as the edge of the sun kissed the horizon. They were met by a group of castle soldiers, "Ah, your Highness! We were getting worried!" the Captian called out. Vivienne gave a wave and a smile, "It's ok, we just got a little distracted is all, I found a traveller in the forest, and I agreed to help him..." The castle was still a little way off, the pennant flags just visible in the distance; they probably wouldn't make it back before nightfall.

[Tama]

He instantly disliked the brothers, as they came across them. There was something...not quite right about their story, about their closeness-true, his brothers had tussled with each other and him in streams, after a long day's hunting, but that had been in the height of summer, and none of them had been this sort of age. That and the shameful look. The younger brother had a sort of hangdog look, younger and slouched and with dark circles under his eyes-the look of a man kept awake by something...or something. He hardly looked like a noble at all, but some hanger-on, a servant. The other brother, prideful, had the pose of someone who constantly looked down on others, hair long and golden, cascading down his back compared to his brother's slicked and lank, cut short at the front, falling onto his shoulders. Both were dressed finely, the shirts that clung to their wet bodies of expensive material, showing muscle far more developed than Alberté's own. He looked away quickly.

 

Both had a predatory look to them, as though the hunt, despite the failing light, was very much still on; eyes flicked around the clearing, both brothers momentarily flicking their eyes up to catch his. Not a nice look. Compared to Vivienne's soft, dark eyes, both brothers had an icy, analytic gaze, examining and appraising, and,for a moment, a sudden fear, an old memory replayed itself-a huge, dark thing stalking towards him, only its brilliantly white teeth, open and ready to swallow him whole standing out from its shadowy bulk. They looked like the sort of people who would tear someone's reputation to tatters, crunch down the bones, and cast them out, broken and picked clean of any usefulness. He shivered. The younger man, all slicked back hair and shame, reminded him of a slinking rat, damp from the sewer, whilst the older, broad shoulders, shaggy mane of hair, kingly expression...a lion. Lazy, prideful.

 

There was something about Sir Vivienne, too-the man behind him was tensed, his words honeyed as ever, but sharp, annoyed, at least to Alberté. He wondered what the knight usually did-for some reason, he doubted babysitting childish nobles was his main job. He sat there, watching them, as Sir Vivenne talked. The Lion's voice matched him perfectly, a content, warm purr of a voice. The Rat didn't speak. Neither brother seemed, apart from the occasional glance, at all interested in him. Just as well he thought. Don't want to attract their attention

 

Finally, they began to move, all three horses more than eager to reach the edge of the gathering gloom. And beyond, low upon the horizon, a tower...several towers...but.

What had happened to the castle? The shape of the tallest tower was unmistakable, but around it...this was wrong. Very wrong. Perhaps they were wood, temporary towers built to aid lookouts...but to put towers up that quickly...No. No.

And the soldier that greeted them, talking in familiar tones to Sir Vivienne...the symbol on his shield was wrong too, new pieces added to the crest, others taken away, but still the familiar black raven atop a helmet at its centre. The flags, no doubt, bore the same insignia. It...had he fallen asleep and woken up in some faerie corruption of his own home, twisted and embellished? He turned in the saddle, staring up at Vivienne

 

"Sir...Vivienne..." He struggled not to let his voice crack, not to let it rise above a half-whisper, not to let his fear overtake and rule him. "Where...are we?"

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne looked down at the stranger, a puzzled look on his face, "Where? We're heading towards the castle, Castle Wolfram, can't you see the raven on the coat of arms? There used to be a wolf too, but that was a long time ago..." Vivienne raised an eyebrow, "Did you come from the other side of the forest? That will surely make it harder for my mother to locate your folks. We hardly have anything to do with the lands on the other side. My sister went off and married one of the princes, so we hardly ever see her anymore..." Vivienne trailed off, if the stranger had indeed come from the lands on the other side of the forest, then it would take months before they could find his folks, even if the stranger told them exactly who they were. It was hard even sending pigeons to his sister, the birds simply refused to fly over the forest, and instead, flying around taking twice as long and getting lost...

 

"Don't worry, we'll look after you, the Royal Family is known for it's superb hospitality. Mother just loves looking after people... We will probably be too late for a proper dinner, but I'm sure the cook will have set something aside for us." They rode in relative silence, just the soft clop of horses hooves, and the slight clink and jingle of armour and equipment. The brothers were talking to each other in low tones, and the soldiers who had come to escort them traded comments. No one was really asking any questions about the stranger that they'd found, all would be revealed soon enough, and it wasn't completely unheard of having lost strangers come and visit - in the back of everyone's mind lurked the old tales of the forest.

[Tama]

Oh gods, where was he. Every word Vivienne spoke made him scared. The Wolfram...Castle...impossible that it had changed so fast...impossible that the wolf that had once ruled his father's banners had been struck off in a matter of days. No...this was impossible, a dream brought on by too much reading of too many old books, too much time spent in that odd forest. Doubtless, he would wake in a leafy bed, beneath an old tree, at the edge of the forest, and all this would blow away with a moment's blink. This...handsome young man...who was he? From his clothes, and the way that he spoke, and the fact he had played nursemaid to...a prince? A possibility. He'd mentioned that his sister had been married to a prince from across the forest, lands his father had often mentioned, but never gone into much detail upon...always in slightly mistrustful tones...

 

This man was a prince, treating another prince like...some common peasant girl! Kissing him with no consent, no warning! And the way he talked about the royal family...as though they were some roadside inn, often bringing in travellers for coin. And as for the Rat and the Lion...his father would have kicked such people out onto the road, to haunt less discerning courts. Everything this man's family...this pretender Royal Family that was not his family...did was...lowly. Base. The practices of courts where knifemen and peddlers and brothel girls mixed with knights and nobles and princes...

He took a deep breath, clambering out of the saddle, and drew himself up to his full height, staring up levelly at "Prince" Vivienne.

 

"Do you...not recognize me, Sir Knight? I am hardly as good a warrior as my brothers, but I am every inch their equal on the mental battlefield. I am Prince Alberté Wolfram, second son to King Ignus Wolfram the Second. And I demand an apology for your...unknightly behaviour..."

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne brought his horse up short as the stranger suddenly scrambled down from the saddle. "Wai-" He was cut off by the strangers announcement. Vivienne raised an eyebrow, so the stranger had declared he was a royal prince, however, he'd stated his linage as being at least five hundred years too late.

 

Vivienne brought himself up to his full height, and astride the warhorse he cut a very imposing figure. He tilted his head in a small bow, one meant for equals, "I'm afraid your highness that we haven't been introduced properly..." Vivennes voiced dripped with years upon years of royal breeding, a very far cry from his usual manner and tone, he wouldn't be his mothers son if he hadn't had court etiquette drilled into him until he ate, slept and breathed it.

 

"I am Prince Vivienne Wolfram, third child of King William Wolfram, who in turn is a direct descendant of King Ignus the Second, which if you are correct in your own introduction makes you my uncle... just a few times removed." A faint smile played around Viviennes lips. Perhaps the stranger was a bit touched in the head; whatever it was, his mother would get to the bottom of it.

 

"Now if you please, Uncle , could you please mount the horse once more, it is a rather long walk back to the castle..."

[Tama]

Impossible. It had to be impossible.

His father...had died whilst he'd been in that forest? Moreover, from the way that Vivienne spoke, it sounded as though not just his father had passed on, but his whole...No. Don't think that. Unfamiliar insignia, bearing his family's name. The castle, built up, unfamiliar towers surrounding those that he had known all his life...now that he stared up at Vivienne, even the armour the other man wore looked unfamiliar, more advanced, making that which his father and his brothers had worn crude and shapeless. He looked for his father's, brother's features in this prince, and found them; the hair, the nose...his younger brother's eyes. Vivienne certainly spoke with the gravitas of a Prince, but he didn't seem a man upon whom the whole kingdom would one day rest; the armour seemed almost too fine for battle, the few pieces he could see at any rate. And that honey'd tone was back, soft...comforting. Maybe he'd misjudged...at least this nephew...however many years, however many generations apart...

 

He stepped back towards him, mounted the horse with some help from Vivienne, and pulled up his cloak, silently balling his fists in his lap. Sir Vivienne...had still kissed him, still awoken him from some enchanted slumber...for that, Alberté began to realise, was why so much time had passed. He'd been told...odd, unnatural stories about the forest, about how it played with time, hours passing in seconds in some places, others many moons out of step with the rest of the forest, and yet more slowing, halting the fall of sand in the hourglass of travellers' lives. Such a thing must have happened to him. And then, slowly, like a creeping shadow, it hit him.

Everyone he had ever known was dead.

From the lazy cook's cat, sprawled across the kitchen floor, a miserly beast who had slunk around the castle, stealing fish and birds, planting itself on peoples' beds and tables and window ledges, to the lean, hungry squires, eager to prove themselves, from the bards and chanteuses he had once enjoyed the company of , and more often than not, had made love with, beneath flickering candlelight that shone off pale skin, to...his own family...

 

Gone.

He pulled up his hood further, till it half-covered his face. He didn't want Sir Vivienne to see him cry. Didn't want the other man to worry. Silent and still, he wept, as the company rapidly approached the castle.

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne hoped that his exchange with Alberte wasn't overheard by too many people. Touched or not, it was never pleasant to have your dirty laundry as it were, aired in public. He helped the man back into the saddle and set the horse in a gentle walk. He watched as the other settled himself in, seemingly burrowing further into his cloak as if to hide from the world.

 

Vivienne chewed his lip for a moment. If the story was true; if Alberte was really who he said he was, then everyone he'd ever known was gone. It was a sobering thought. How would he feel if he'd woken up and everything was gone, turned into the dust of ages.... He frowned. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing; how do you comfort someone who believes they had lost everything? He really hoped his mother would be able to "fix" it, much like she had soothed away the hurts of his childhood.

 

The journey to the castle was completed in relative silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Vivienne helped Alberte from the saddle, "You must be somewhat.... tired. However, mother will want to see you. I'm sure she will be most... invaluable as she took on the family history as a bit of a hobby. Not even the royal historian can compete with her..." He gave the man a small smile and a bit of a squeeze of his shoulder, still feeling rather inadequate.

[Tama]

As the small company approached the castle, Alberté lifted his head. This...there was no doubt about it. Certainly, over however many years he'd been away, the castle had been renovated, new parts added, others left to degrade, until they had fallen into ruin. Walls that had previously stood as another line of defense, against his father's enemies, twice as tall as a horsed knight...were now fallen masonry, barely reaching above the horse's knees. Yet, elsewhere, taller walls than that had sprung up, almost as tall as the towers, in a great arc behind the castle, and continuing on as far as the eye could see. Alberté frowned, face hidden. The lands to the north in his father's time had always been so friendly...gods, his mother had come from there...though he couldn't remember exactly the name of her kingdom...to see that wall stretch away into the distance, unyielding...

 

And then, suddenly, they were within the walls of the castle. Here at least, things seemed familiar, the stables, though re-roofed and extended, familiar, the steps up to the kitchen a little more worn...He pulled back the hood, and let Vivenne help him from the saddle, almost falling into the older man's arms. Straightening up, he listened to Vivienne's soft, almost caring words, smiling softly as he squeezed his shoulder, the grip gentle, warm. He turned, and softly gazed up into the older man's eyes, wiping away the tears.

 

"I'm home."

[SqueezeBabe]

As the small party walked into the hall, the Steward was there to greet them, taking the brothers and ushering them to their rooms, but not before casting a meaningful glance in Vivienne and Alberte's direction. "It's ok, we won't have to wait for him to come back, mother will most likely be in her study." A page came up to them with fresh cloaks, Vivienne promptly stripping off his armour and changing into the linen shirt provided. He rolled his shoulders and stretched, glad to be free of cumbersome weight.

 

Vivienne led Albert through the halls until they'd reached a small room, out of the way of the guest rooms and living quarters. Vivienne knocked softly on the door and waited, fidgeting slightly, wondering how on earth he was going to explain what had happened out in the forest.

 

A soft voice bid them to enter and Vivienne pushed open the heavy door. The room was tasteful and simple, with large comfortable chairs. A tiny woman, made tinier by the large desk she was sitting at, gave a soft cry of surprise, "Vivi! What on earth have you been doing to get back so late?" She came around the desk, the difference in height apparent when ahe was standing next to him." She looked over at Alberte, "Who is this Vivi? You look alike enough to be cousins..."

[Tama]

As he followed Sir Vivienne's broad back, he couldn't help but gaze around, noticing all the little details where things had changed; tapestries of great battles once crossed much of the Great Hall's walls...now..well, it was a battle, but not one he recognised. Vivienne pulled off his cloak, and tossed it to a steward. Blushing, Alberté turned away, but not before Vivienne shed the heavy armour, revealling a lean, muscled back,then pulled a shirt over his bare skin.

Some things...had changed, that much was sure. The structure of the castle, however, had barely changed from when he'd known it, the layout only occasionally unfamiliar, to lead into new towers, or into some of the buildings. It was warm, far warmer than the cold of the wind outside, and Alberté was silently thankful that the Rat and the Lion were heading in a different direction. He silently hoped that, what with him foolishly announcing his parentage and his name in front of...people like that, that he hadn't caused any problems. The idea of those people...well, it didn't bear thinking about.

 

They stopped in front of a door, the light beyond a warm red, strong against the dark of the corridor-Alberté had almost reached out to grab Vivienne's cloak, so dark was the corridor-and then the door creaked open. The room was sparse, apart from piles of books, dominated by a large book behind which a small, round cheeked woman sat, writing.

This must be Vivienne's mother he thought. She doesn't really...look much like a queen...more a scholar. Her clothes, compared to the simplicity of the room, were fine, a pair of pince-nez around her neck. Clearly someone who read a lot...compared to my mother...

 

Alberté bowed softly, as he was mentioned, stepping forward.

"Ah, My Lady...I am...well, Prince..." Prince Vivienne sounded odd, oddly didn't befit the man, who deserved a more active, grander title, didn't sound right coming from his mouth, but he continued. "That is to say...Prince Vivienne...and myself are related." He took a deep breath...

"I am...I am Prince Alberté Wolfram, second son to King Ignus Wolfram the Second, My Lady Queen. I...believe I am...Your sons' uncle." He smiled softly, and added "A few times removed, I'm told."

[SqueezeBabe]

The diminutive woman looked Alberte up and down, then back at Vivienne who was staring intently at some imaginary speck on the floor. "You two better take a seat then, I'll get some supper organised and Vivienne you can start from the beginning..." She turned back to Alberte, "Forgive me love, its hard to think of you as older than myself when you look like one of my very own sons. I am Lady Elisabeth, Queen of Castle Wolfram, though these days I only come out on special occasions. Ruling isn't what it used to be, but at least it allows me an excuse to collect books and research the family history."

 

Lady Elisabeth settled herself down behind the desk and waited for the two men to seat themselves down. A knock on the door announced the arrival of the Steward who left again to go and organise supper for the trio. He came back with cold roast meat and hard cheese. The bread was still hot from the oven and the Steward waggled his finger at Vivienne, "Be grateful boy, the Cook even baked fresh bread just for you!" he said in a scolding tone. Vivienne just grinned and stuffed a piece of the fresh bread in his mouth with his mother clucking her tongue at him, but hiding her own smile behind her hand.

 

When they were alone once more, she addressed them both, "So, who wants to tell their story first? "

[Tama]

Alberte wolfed down his food-he'd honestly forgotten how hungry he'd gotten in the long ride back home, and to have such warm, nourishing things in his stomach...well...He curled up happily on the chair, chewing on some of the warm, slightly sticky bread, and gazed around the room. Like him, Vivienne was eating with gusto, tearing great hunks of bread, and eating them with the cold meat and the cheese...surprisingly unprincely...but he was probably as hungry as Alberté himself. The meat was a little salty, probably preserved from the previous summer...the cheese was fresher, a little sweet. He waited till Vivienne had finished his meal, then began his tale, hesitantly at first, but growing in confidence. He made sure not to leave any detail out, not to leave a single important moment of his twenty-one years of life unmentioned.

 

He paused before going into the most important part of his tale, his words faltering, stopping occasionally, or stumbling over his words. This was difficult. Far more difficult that he'd thought, and it took him...almost all of his energy to keep his voice steady. He stopped, staring up at Vivienne, and bit his lip...He should continue. For Vivienne. For his mother. He took a deep breath, and continued, eyes occasionally flicking up to Vivienne...Finally, taking a swig of proffered water, he completed his tale, gazing up at the pair of them. He silently wished that...his mother had been this close to him, this interested in him...but...at least he had food, and at least...he was out of that forest, and warm and dry...

He couldn't help looking up at Vivienne.

"Your turn, I think?"

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne nodded, licking his fingers to get rid of the crumbs. He had the decency to look sheepish when his mother gave him the "look" and reached for the linen napkin to wipe his hands with. "There's not too much to add... " he went on to describe the situation in the forest, "It was darker than the other parts of the forest, and eerily quiet. And as for waking him up, I did try just about everything else -before- kissing him... to be honest I didn't think it was going to work, but it was the only thing I hadn't tried..." he coloured slightly. He was sure that his mother was more than aware of his "youthful indiscretions"...

 

His mother appeared thoughtful for a moment, digesting each account. "Well, Vivi, Alberte, I will need to have a serious think about all this. It will take a while to go through the library, and I will have to bribe the Historian with the little pastries that he loves so much... " there was a twinkle in her eye, one that Vivienne recognised. His mother would search every single scrap of paper and every single folk tale, until she got to the bottom of it. In the meantime, all they could do is make Alberte comfortable and help him adjust to his new life...

[Tama]

Alberte couldn't help but blush when Vivienne got to that part of the tale; the soft lips against his, the slight stubble, the gentle hands probably pressed into the dirt either side of his head...he'd been kissed dozens, if not hundreds of times before by other people, but...that kiss had been different. No ulterior motive, no come-to-bed-young-prince eyes. It had been a last resort, a desperate, gentle kiss, the sort of kiss a fairytale prince would have given a sleeping princess, and would have watched as she awoke to it...then they would have mounted his horse, left the castle or forest, or dragon's lair, the spell broken...

 

He covered his mouth, hoping neither Vivienne or his mother noticed the deepening redness...none of the old tales had had a prince kiss another prince...because what usually came next in these tales was that, awoken from the spell, the princess would fall deeply in love with the rescuing prince or knight...and that...though Vivienne was a handsome man, broad shouldered and muscular, quite unlike his previous lovers, who had been artisans, thinkers...he was most certainly not Alberté's type. He was brought out of his reverie by Vivenne's mother mentioning his name, and nodded. This woman had known him barely an hour, her son less than a day...and he already felt safe here...yes, home had changed, but there was still such a familiarity to it.

[SqueezeBabe]

Vivienne got up slowly, brushing the breadcrumbs from his clothes as he did, his mother tsking once more. "I'll take Alberte to the baths with me, we will need to get cleaned up before we go to bed." He leaned forward and kissed his mother on the cheek, "No doubt you'll call when you find something, but what are we going to do about our other guests?" His mother waved a hand in an irritated fashion, "That girl, whilst pretty and from good pedigree, is vapid and vague, I couldn't possibly saddle you with such a creature. If I'm to have a daughter in-law, then she at least needs to be able to talk about more than needlework and flower arranging." she arched an eyebrow at him. Vivienne hid his smile behind his hand, turning to offer the other to Alberte, "Come, let me show you to the baths, they should be ready by now and now doubt arrangements have already been made in regards to where you'll be sleeping."

 

Vivienne was looking forward to a hot bath, the events of the day still seemed strangely surreal to him, and no doubt Alberte would still be in shock, "I'll even wash your back for you" he said with a grin. After his training sessions with Sam, they would often bathe together, so being naked with another man certainly didn't bother him, though Alberte was rather scrawny compared to Sam, almost girlish in a way.

[Tama]

Alberté was getting the feeling that Vivienne and his mother didn't exactly like the guests; he'd got this alone from the way Vivienne had treated the Lion and the Rat, but this other person Vivienne's mother had just mentioned...yeesh. But it was true...Vivienne seemed all the more likeable-with a mother this wise and intelligent, with a good judge of people. He nodded distractedly at Vivienne, taking the proffered hand. His skin was warm, and, safe for a few callouses on his fingers, and a few scratches and scars across his palm, surprisingly warm. A soldier's hand...his hand must feel so feminine compared to Vivienne's. He wondered silently whether the rest of Sir Vivienne's body would be like this, tough and yet tender. He nodded, and obediently followed the other man's broad back.

 

They walked in silence for a while, before Vivienne joked "I'll even wash your back for you". At this, Alberté blushed. The idea of being naked in front of this man, pale and lithe and girly looking, his body only leanly muscled, chest barely developed, and with soft, unmarked skin...and yet, part of him continued to wonder what his rescuer looked like under those clothes-he'd caught a glimpse of that great back...He gulped softly, and replied "Please...? Gods know what sort of grime I have on me..."