Chapter 8 - Humble Lodgings

“If you ever lay your filthy hands on me again-”

“Yes, yes. You’ll have me flogged in the square, assuming we ever make it back to Aeliorn.”

The two were dragging themselves out of the foul water, Lucian resembling a pissed off, drenched cat and Aven shook his messy hair out next to him. Lucian scowled as flecks of water spattered across his face and sighed, collapsing down on the grass as he looked over his shoulder towards the city they left behind. In the distance, he could hear the screaming of people being swarmed and bursts of magic as the city’s defenses began to step in.

“Well, at least we escaped,” he murmured, pushing to his feet. The Amn countryside was a great plain riddled with countrysides between two mountain ranges with only patches of woods and wilderness in sight. “Not a lot of places to hide.” He stepped onto a dirt road that stretched from the city and into the countryside.

“What do you suppose we do now?” Aven asked. “Head inland away from the bees and find a place to stay. I don’t think anyone will help us..”

“Of course they will,” Lucian murmured. He wrung the water from his mangy hair. “I’m Aelorian royalty. No matter what part of the world you’re in, hierarchy remains the same.” He began to walk. North, south, Aven was sure Lucian had no idea. The Prince clearly had no sense of direction as he muttered under his breath, body covered from head to toe in stings.

“I have to go back.”

Lucian spun on his heel. “Excuse me?”

Aven grimaced. His body felt drained of energy. “Your highness, I have to retrieve my lion first.”

Lucian dragged his fingers down his face. “Aven….I am so fucking over you and your lion. Do you not understand what is going on?! We just escaped imprisonment. And you want to go back for your cat?”

Aven held not an ounce of hesitation. He stepped up to the young lord and nodded. “Yes. I do. He will likely already be hunting for me in the chaos.”

They were toe to toe, Aven standing a head taller than Lucian. The Prince’s blue eyes searched him and with a breath of exasperation, threw his hands up and turned away. "Fine.” He plopped down, cross legged in the dirt and glowered up at Aven. “Then go get your cat.”

“Thank you, your highness. I’ll be back soon.”

—————————————–

The slave ring had practically been abandoned. The slavers were gone. The slaves fled for safety. The bees had moved on. Several corpses littered the area, stung to death and so swollen, Aven could scarcely tell what they may have looked like beforehand.

Kion wasn’t where he should have been. As Aven picked his way through the bazaar to the private tent, his lion was no longer chained to place. He broke loose.

Aven grimaced and stepped over a corpse, putting his hands to his mouth. “Kion!” He called out.

There was no answer. His voice echoed out over the bazaar.

Voices caught his attention.

Aven ducked to the side of a tent, utterly silent as several mages swept by, staffs held out in front of them. A great globe of magic floated over them, holding thousands upon thousands of bees. He didn’t breathe until they moved past, slinking away from the tent.

Dread was beginning to claw at his insides. What if he didn’t make it out….? What if he was recaptured? He ground his teeth. “KION!”

This time - an answer.

A low, pained growl resonated from behind one of the tents. Aven’s heart dropped as he raced. “Kion?!”

His lion lay there, stung perhaps three dozen times with a bloody spear wound in his side. As the lion caught sight of his beloved companion, he struggled to his feet before falling, exhausted and poisoned by numerous stings.

It took Aven all but seconds for Aven’s knees to bite into the dirt, arms swinging around his companion and eyes laced with worry. “Kion…it’s okay..you have to get up, buddy..”

There was still too much danger. The slavers. The bees. And Lucian was waiting for him. They had to get back. His arms heaved the lion to its feet, letting the beast lean on him for support. Heavy. Aven’s entire body ached with exhaustion and he slid his jaw forward, staggering through the carnage.

He left the city behind him, not looking back. As he made his way along the city’s beach, his mind buzzed with anxiety. What the hell were they going to do now. Lucian was right. They were an ocean from home, with no way to get back. Perhaps they should make their way inland, away from the sea. Perhaps they’d be able to-

Aven stopped.

On the dirt road leading into the countryside, where Lucian should have been…. was nothing. For a moment, Aven’s heart surged with panic. “Lucian?!” He cried out, staggering forward and looked around wildly. Was he taken?

No.

There didn’t seem to be any kind of struggle. Which meant..

Lucian left.

Aven stood in the middle of the road for a moment before he threw his hands up. “He is the worst!” He shouted, looking to his lion. “Kion, this boy is the biggest pain in my ass. You’ve got to be kidding me. What does he expect to do?!”

Kion didn’t answer. The lion paced lazily and bumped his head against Aven’s leg. The barbarian dragged his fingers down his face with a growl. Maybe he should just leave. Lucian obviously didn’t need him. And Aven? He knew how to survive. He’d just catch the nearest ship and go to-

…go to where?

Aven’s fists clenched and unclenched as he stood in the midst of the road. Voices began to echo behind him in the city as the hiding slaves and slavers began to remerge. They couldn’t stay. And with nowhere to go…. There was just one thing to do.

Aven stepped forward, looking up and down the road. At the foot of the city, the road split in two separate directions. One going north. One going south. There was no way Lucian would simply wander off into the wilderness… he’d follow a road.

Aven dropped down to Kion’s side and drew his hand down the lion’s flank. “Wanna sniff him out?” he murmured. “I’ll let you jump on him.”

There were times that Aven was sure Kion could understand him. The lion’s ear twitched and immediately, he pushed his nose to the ground, sniffing about before his big, brown eyes looked southwards.

Aven breathed. “Oi, all right… here we go.” With a hand on his lion, they picked up the pace, making their way south.

It didn’t take him long to catch up with Lucian. Only a half hour later, he saw something further down the road. For a moment, he tensed, thinking it an enemy… then, he squinted through the hot sun. A supply wagon. A trader, perhaps. Multiple chests and barrels and boxes were mounted on the donkey drawn wagon…. And Lucian.

The Prince was lounged across its back, map in hand.

Aven grit his teeth. “I’m actually going to kill him,” he promised his lion as they caught up. “Are you daft?!” Aven yelled out, blood boiling.

“No,” Lucian said. He didn’t take his eyes off the map. “You had your lion, which has an excellent sense of smell. I knew you’d catch up.” He looked up to regard Aven with a frown. “And watch your tongue. Regardless of whether or not we’re in Aeliorn, I'm still your Prince.”

“And you still act as if the whole world knows you!” Aven seethed. His long steps easily kept pace with the wagon. “We’re in a foreign land, your Highness. And you’re a Prince. You’re a child if you think people will help you. People don’t help one another. They’d kill or sell you sooner than help you.”

Lucian ignored him.

Aven’s teeth ground together. He stepped up his pace so that he was walking beside the wagon. “You don’t have friends here, your Highness. We are surrounded by enemies. You need to be careful.”

“Not everyone is an enemy.” Lucian gestured to the wagon. “Here I am, comfortable on a wagon and there you are, wearing your feet further.” Lucian glanced over his shoulder to the farmer. “Faster.”

Aven could see the lash of irritation and regret drawn over the farmer’s features. He sent a backwards glare towards the Prince and urged his steeds faster.

Aven’s eyes rolled skywards. “And how are you going to pay this man?” He asked, voice low. “You have nothing on you.” He kept his hand twisted into Kion’s fur to ensure the surely hungry lion didn’t try to make a snack out of the donkeys.

“I assured him that he would be paid handsomely once I resume my duties on the throne.”

“Of course you did. Where is he taking you?”

“There is a city further south,” Lucain said, twisting the map around. “Calimport, in the country of Calim. We will likely be able to find a ship there. We will simply commandeer one of these vessels and start on our way back to Aeliorn before my uncle can spread his lies about my death.” Lucian frowned. “The longer we are gone, the further he can solidify his rule. That cannot happen.”

“So we’re going to be riding on a wagon all the way to Calimport?”

“Of course not. Our good friend will be taking us to the nearest tavern.”

Lucian stretched out, easily taking up to seating spaces as he reclined across the back of the wagon. “We’ll sleep in their inn and then perhaps purchase a pair of horses… can you ride?”

Aven stared at him. Was the Prince truly this ignorant? “And with what money?!” He huffed. “We just freed ourselves from slavers!” Frustration burned in his chest. Aven pushed his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to be able to do anything you speak of without resources.”

“And what would you know?” Lucian swung his legs over the side of the wagon to glower at Aven, bumping along the road. “You’ve probably never even bought a piece of bread for yourself. Everything you have ever needed was provided to you by those that owned you.”

“That’s not true,” Aven spat out. “You haven’t the faintest idea what I’ve done for a bit of bread. Including paying for one.”

“You don’t have my name. The Arceneaux family is known throughout the world. While yes, it may be less prominent in Faerun, the commoners here will be able to recognize their betters and do as I command.”

“If you really think people are going to listen to you just because you’re-”

“Allow me to give you a demonstration of such a command. Shut your mouth.”

Aven was quick to return the glare. His gaze bit into the young lord with heavy defiance before he forced it away, staring up the road. “As you wish, then. This will play out as it will.”

Bitter silence dragged into the day. Hours passed. Aven’s muscles screamed with exhaustion, his feet bled and he wrestled the fury that crashed inside him. He walked beside the cart as Lucian lay sprawled out along the back, eyeing the map. Typical that he would have been stuck with the most ignorant child Aeliorn had to offer.

Hit was nearly sundown when Aven finally heard Lucian speak. “Sit by me.”

Aven glanced up. Lucian was watching him with a frown.

“Why.”

“Because I can’t have you exhausted if we’re attacked by bandits.”

Aven hesitated a great while, eyes following Lucian’s hand as the Prince patted the seat beside him. Nevertheless, he heaved himself up, every muscle screaming as he eased himself against a barrel with a groan.

“Thank you.”

He could feel every bump and ridge the wagon rolled over as it rumbled down the road. Sparse trees flanked the pathway, and every so often, a farmer or group of mercenaries would pass them by. In the distance, the sea they left behind was painted red in the light of the setting sun.

“It’s ugly.”

Aven glanced over. Lucian had pulled aside his tunic to look at the wound that now graced his side. The gore of the slaver’s spear had long since been cleaned so that it would not fester, but it left a scar behind.

One of two scars it seemed the Prince now possessed. Aven eyed Lucian for a moment before he settled back. “It’s an imperfection,” he said. “But not ugly. Those without scars are pompous and inexperienced. Scars… show strength and experience. They’re stories of where you’ve been.” The edge of his lip curved upwards. “I think it makes you seem much older.”

“Perhaps that’s true for a brute like you,” Lucian murmured. He’d drawn his knees up into his chest now. “For people like me, it’s a sign of stupidity and recklessness.”

Aven tensed as Lucian leaned to him. Utterly sapped of strength, Lucian shuddered, pulling his knees tighter. His eyes were rimmed with red.

Softness touched Aven’s features. He didn’t move. He stayed still as Lucian leaned to him, looking over as Lucian’s soft voice stirred the silence.

“..How did you know..?”

“How did I know..?” He paused. “…your uncle.” Aven leaned his head back to the barrel. “I don’t read people too well, but all my life, I’ve distrusted royalty. Never trust someone, and they can never catch you off guard.” He paused. “…sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” A sigh touched Lucian’s lips. “You’re right. Royalty… it’s all a game. And when you play the game of thrones, you win, or you die.” The Prince shivered as the night drew a cold breath. “It seems my uncle has won.”

“Not yet.” Aven draped an arm around the Prince and pulled him closer. “Here. I’m warm. You’re welcome to scoot in closer.”

Lucian didn’t complain. He curled in close to Aven, thin frame pressed up against Aven’s athletic figure, head burrowing into his chest. Suddenly, he heard laughter. Warm, breathy laughter, and Lucian’s ice cold fingers walked up the muscles of Aven’s abdomen.

“We should have just stayed in bed.”

“Yeah?” He said. “You’d rather be back home in our warm bed eating bloody steaks than sleeping on a wagon?” He paused. “….I suppose you’re right. That sounds… heavenly.”

There was no response.

Aven glanced down.

Lucian’s warm, even breath spilled across his chest, fingers twined with Aven’s. His eyes were closed, with a single drop of moisture caught in long, blonde lashes. Aven’s heart pounded. His hand ran softly over light locks of hair and he looked over his shoulder to the farmer. “See what I deal with?” he murmured. “A literal royal child.”

—————————————–

“We’re here.”

Aven was stirred awake by the rough voice of their driver. Lucian still slept up against him, having fallen into his lap and drooling very unprincelike. Aven rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. They had stopped before a relatively tame tavern that sat against the dark. A sign swung in the breeze, reading, ‘The Angry Bader Inn.’ A barn was pressed against its side.

“Thank you, sir.” It took Aven all but a moment to sweep Lucian’s sleeping frame into his arms and hopped down from the wagon. “Kion. Take the barn. These people wouldn’t take too kindly to a lion.”

As Lucian stirred sleepily in Aven’s arms, he nudged the door open with his toe. It was empty, save for three cloaked figures who spoke quietly in the corner. The Innkeeper raised a brow at the two, spat into a cup and wiped it down with a dirty cloth. “He dead?” The man asked with interest, nodding to the form in Aven’s arms.

“Nah. Just a heavy sleeper. How much is a room for the night?”

“Two gold per customer.”

“Is there any way I can work out a deal with you?” Aven tried. “We’ve… had a hard time. We have no coins on us…”

The innkeeper arched a brow. “Couple of charity cases,” he muttered under his breath. He eyed the two. “…You can take the barn.”

Aven’s breath exhaled with relief. “Yes, yes the barn will be perfect. Thank you-”

“The barn is not perfect.”

Lucian tumbled from Aven’s arms, stumbling sleepily to his feet. The Prince eyed the innkeeper with tired eyes, a scowl etched over his features. “Do you even know who I am?”

The innkeeper narrowed his eyes. “A bloke who’s about to be sleeping in the rain.”

“I’m Lucian Arecneaux, Prince of Aeliorn and we will take a room.”

Aven all but shoved at Lucian’s back. “Don’t mind him,” he said hastily. “We will absolutely take the barn.”

“If you think I’m going to sleep in a barn with flea-bitten-”

“Prince…” Growled the innkeeper. “Where’s your gold then, princey.”

“I-”

“Signet ring?”

Lucian’s jaw slid forward. “It was taken from me.”

The innkeeper barked a laugh. He leaned backs, spitting into a cup. “Prince my ass,” he said. “And I’m the Countess of Damara. You boys aren’t even worth my barn. Get out.”

Aven bit down his anger. He all but lifted Lucian up and positioned him out of the conversation. “Excuse my friend,” he said. “He meant to say… we would love to take just a night in the barn and be off. I’m sorry for the trouble. He suffered a large hit in the head.”

The innkeeper scowled and looked back and forth between the two. He shrugged. “Fine,” he growled. “Just get out of my sight.”

“Thank you, sir.” Aven threw Lucian over his shoulder, ignoring the tiny fists that pounded into his back. He didn’t stop until they reached the barn and he set Lucian down.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Aven hissed out, pushing the barn doors open where Kion had already fallen asleep on a pile of hay - feathers scattered around his paw.

Lucian folded his arms. “It always worked back home. Surely he should have been able to recognize a superior. I could have repaid him.”

Aven pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nobody here knows you, your Highness,” Aven bit out. He eased the barn door shut. “The barn won’t be so bad. I’ve slept on the street before and hay is actually quite soft.”

“Hay…” Lucian’s back was a line of tension. His feet and hands were dirty and bloodied. His blonde hair was dirty and disheveled, fists clenching and unclenching. Suddenly, Lucian snarled, spinning on a wagon pressed up against the barn wall, eyes red and damp and let loose a torrent of magic. Fire, frost, acid, lightning and a burst of sound exploded from Lucian’s fingertips and the wagon burst into pieces. Shards of wood went flying, nearly striking Aven who ducked.

The Prince then turned on a ladder leading up to the balcony. A barrel. Those two were blasted into pieces.

Aven’s eyes were wide and wild. “Lucian!” He shouted. He surged over, grasping the Prince’s arm. “Stop! You’re going to get us kicked out!”

“Who gives a shit,” Lucian snarled. He went to strike at an empty horse stall when Aven’s fist closed in on his wrist.

“No! You’ve done enough. It’s all enough. I get you’re angry and upset, but right now there is nothing either of us can do, damn it!”

Lucian turned on him. For a moment, his face was contorted into anything but regal and controlled. Frost licked at his fingertips, and Aven was sure he was going to be blasted by a cone of it - when the magic sputtered like a dying flame. Lucian’s expression melted into despair.

“…damn it,” Lucian hissed. His voice was thick, and he sank into his knees. His shoulders trembled. “This is all my fault.”

Aven flinched. His gaze held strong and he followed Lucian to his knees. Warm hands took Lucian’s face, tilting it upwards to face him. “No,” he said, voice firm. “This is your uncle’s fault. And when we return, you’ll make him pay however you wish. But for now… trust me to do my job and keep you alive.” He managed a smile. “You can’t do shit if you’re dead.”

Lucian’s eyes searched him wordlessly. He reached forward and placed his fingers on the golden collar fastened around Aven’s neck. The symbol of his ownership. For a foolish moment, Aven braced himself for a kiss.

Click.

The golden band snapped at the touch of Lucian’s magic and clattered to the ground. “You’ve been relieved from your duty,” Lucian murmured. “Do what you want.” The Prince walked past him towards a haypile.

Aven sat in mild shock. His hands felt at his neck. It was the first time in years where there was no weight around his throat. No chains. No collar. What did Lucian expect him to do. Leave? Leave where?

Aven’s hand grabbed Lucian’s wrist and wrenched him back. “Careful what you wish for,” he rumbled. “You’re not going to snivel like a little brat.”

The dullness of Lucian’s eyes immediately faded. They were charged with anger and the Prince hissed and pried Aven’s fingers from him. “Apparently the life of a peasant doesn’t suit you, either way,” he snapped. “Your tongue is still much too sharp.” Lucian folded his arms and huffed, turning away to begin fluffing up his hay pile. “Put it back on then, if you want. I liked you better when you just did as you were told.”

“I thought you liked my defiance.”

“Yes. On my terms.” Lucian collapsed into the haypile, drawing locks of blonde hair back and out of his face. “And I’ll snivel if I want to. I’m a fucking Prince.”

Aven wasn’t fazed. He could detect the edge of amusement in Lucian’s sharp words. “We both know you like it far better when I challenge you,” he purred. “If you want that thing on my neck, you better put it on yourself.” He lay down beside Lucian, an easy smile tugging at his lips. “I want to see how long it takes before you backhand me. It’s far better than your whiny, pathetic attitude.”

“You’ll be backhanded far sooner than expected if you don’t let me sleep,” Lucian threatened idly. His fingers crept towards the collar and drew it close. They roamed along the intricate designs of the golden band, brows pushed together.

“If you like it so much, you can always simply buy your own,” Aven snorted.

Lucian shot him a look. “No. I was thinking.”

“About?”

“…This is a powerful tool,” Lucian murmured. “A symbol of your imprisonment. Your dehumanization. Whoever holds your leash… a sense of power over another. It’s dominated your entire life. You’ve always been a slave to something.” Lucian eyed it for a moment longer… before he tossed it over his shoulder where the collar smacked against the wall. “Might pay for some horses tomorrow once we sell it,” he purred.

“Is that really how you see it? All I saw was just a big, flashy necklace.”

“Well of course. I only purchase the best for my belongings.”

Aven smirked. “You know, you’re much more tolerable when you’re being a pompous tool. It’s definitely preferred over your moping and whining.”

“Clearly I’ve been moping too much. You’ve forgotten your place.” Lucian reached down, as if trying to grab for a blanket and sighed, curling at Lucian’s side. “Here’s a command. Lay there, warm me up…” Lucian flushed. “..and keep me safe.”

Aven’s cheeks warmed. “…I can manage that,” he murmured. His arms drew around Lucian and pulled the Prince into his chest.

He waited. Waited until Lucian was asleep, and he could hear his even breaths before Aven stood up. Slow. Steady. Ensuring he didn’t wake the Prince, he tiptoed past him and his lion and stooped down, fingers curling around the broken collar.

Aven took one last look back at the prince and his lion before he eased his way out of the barn, closing the door behind him. He leaned his back against the barn and peered up into an unfamiliar sky. He didn’t recognize the stars and constellations that were stretched out over the inky darkness. No ‘Klauth, the Old Snarl.’ No ‘Hleid, the Ice Queen.’

They were so far from home. Aven’s eyes drifted down to the collar in his grasp. Did Lucian just… revoke ownership of him? What did that mean? Freedom? No. Even though the collar was gone, the chain still remained, whether Lucian knew it or not. With a breath, Aven slipped the collar into his pocket, and turned his eyes to the night sky as he reclined against their humble lodgings.

Everything was going to change.