A story about a prince and his pretty consort presumptive.
Crown Prince Raffe, as the only son of High King Alizade and sole heir to the High Throne of the Ruemri Empire, is bound to fulfill one important duty for the crown. Even if that duty involv...
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THE PRINCE'S scorching kiss haunted Soren's dream all throughout the fucking night. He made no contact with Raffe's skin while they were in the same bed nor did he move from his spot. As a result, his body was aching and he barely felt rested when he woke up the next morning.
Raffe was gone from the other side of the bed. Sitting up, he could hear the faint sounds of horses, clangs of swords and shields, and murmurs of several men as preparation for departure undergone outside their tent.
Jiri nudged his knee, sending concern and warmth towards him. No doubt the stag felt his distress when he woke up. His friend had been with him since its mother was killed by wolves several years ago. Soren and Malin had discovered the onslaught and tried to stop the predators but were too late to save the doe's poor life. Not trusting his reckless brother Malin to take care of the small fawn, Soren took up the responsibility and cared for him for several days and weeks. When he was sure that the creature would find its own way into the forest and survive on its own, Soren let him go. That same night, however, Jiri came back to him, stubbornly knocking on his window with its antlers until Soren opened it. Finding it cumbersome to seek permission for Jiri to stay in the manor, Soren transformed his own room to accommodate them both.
When Thar Mal found out, he was furious. But he hid it well and instead of getting angry, he just gave his son an unamused stare and sharply told Soren to study his linguistics seriously. Soren could not refuse, of course. By then, he was already engaged in learning four languages. Later that day, mentors arrived and added seven more languages to his curriculum. Reflecting on it now, he realized that his father subtly included Jiri as a condition for Soren's compliance, without overt coercion. Though in normal situations, Soren might have been breaking his father's favored vases to agree to his ridiculous terms.
Nevertheless, Jiri and Soren have become inseparable since then.
Soren leaned down and rested his head on Jiri's. "I'm alright, my friend," he murmured softly, rubbing circles on the stag's neck. "Just a little bit groggy, but I'm fine."
He spotted Raffe huddled with his cousins just outside their tent, enjoying a hearty breakfast of meat stew, slices of fruit, and chunks of bread. Soren's cheeks flushed with heat as the memories of wet lips, warm tongues, and the sensation of fervent caresses on his skin surged into his mind, sending unwelcome shivers down his spine. His knees felt weak, almost buckling beneath him, and he cursed the prince yet again for the thousandth time for putting him in such a vexing predicament.
They say being a virgin has its pros and cons. Well, for Soren, it was all cons. He was too untried of all the lustful sensations of the world, and he grimaced when he realized that his first encounter with such pleasures was with Raffe.
He was not innocent. He knew that. Just as he knew the specifics of lovemaking. No healer would miss that kind of information on their early education. And Soren, no doubt, had various fantasies of his own. The one thing that he resentfully lacked, however, was the experience. Unlike Raffe who had no doubt had several lovers before and an abundant knowledge at that.
Risam was the one who first spotted Soren and waved him to their small circle. Soren hesitated a little bit, but when he saw the flash of faint amusement in Raffe's eyes, he instantly threw his sophisticated modesty somewhere and went in their direction. When he was three steps away, Deputy High Commander Jadel suddenly stood up, forfeited his seat beside Raffe, and sat on the right side of his stoic cousin, Raif, leaving Soren no choice but to reluctantly sit beside the prince.
"Good morning, bane of my life," Soren whispered as he slumped heavily. He earned Raffe's glare but he ignored it, favoring the faint chuckles of the prince's cousins in front of them. He thinned his lips, forcing his grin to die down. There was always that rare satisfaction enveloping his nerves whenever he pissed someone off, especially when it was Raffe.
"Fucking nitwit," Raffe grumbled and swallowed a mouthful of stew.
Soren unconsciously outstretched his hand and took a bowl of sliced fruits. He happily nibbled at the glorious sweetness until he realized, with the others stealing a disbelieving look in his direction, that it was Raffe's. When Soren turned to look at the owner beside him, he caught Raffe's I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck-Do-What-You-Want look, so Soren did. Ignoring the stares he was receiving.
Risam offered him food. He took the bread but humbly refused the meat stew. Why humans don't tire of eating meat, Soren would never understand. He listened while others discussed the numbers and readiness of the current forces, potential plans, supply lines, and the necessary action if they ever find faie slaves during the rescue mission. Despite the dread that enveloped him during the conversation, Soren did not miss how his skin touched Raffe's skin when their hands bumped into the small fruit bowl, or how Raffe's hand would instantly give way for him to take a slice first, not minding it a bit and just continued to give his opinions on the unit to attack and unit to defend, as if it was the most natural thing to do—letting Soren first before him.
Something changed between them, Soren pondered. Funny how that silly little kiss affected them both.
If this had occurred yesterday, the prince would no doubt, as Soren would always expect he would do, flashed his scowl and pushed Soren's hand away. Too stunned to make some snide comments, Soren just arched his eyebrows and remained silent, figuring out how or why this sudden change of attitude happened. He was not the only one who noticed it, though. When his eyes landed on Jadel who sat across him, the man did not hide the glint of surprised delight dancing around his too-knowing eyes and the grin that flashed faintly on his face. Soren avoided his gaze.
With the silence Soren forced upon himself, he studied Raffe's kin instead.
Similar to Raffe, his cousins Jadel, Risam, and Raif shared dark hair and a youthful, lean build, yet harbored a strength that Soren couldn't quite grasp. Their auras exuded authority and leadership, fitting for the captains of the Imperial Army's elite units.
Risam, commanding the Ironmaiden, cut an imposing figure—a tough, dark-haired woman with piercing hazel eyes. Though slightly shorter than Soren, her presence emanated the essence of a valiant warrior. Soren discovered early on in Ruemreon that both Risam and Jadel held the distinction of being the youngest soldiers ever promoted. Risam, leading an all-female unit, and Jadel, serving as the Deputy High Commander, both commanded respect.
Raif, on the other hand, was the taciturn one. He had short, curly hair, and a pair of eyes as piercing as the gray ones of Raffe. With what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face, he might as well have been Raffe's twin. But Soren noticed that despite him being the unspoken one, he gave sensible and high-valued opinions whenever he spoke.
Soren was not especially happy after the fact that Raffe had a little advantage last night. So when the serious discussion was over, he made amends and fixed his wounded ego, doing just the thing that Raffe irritated about him the most: he chattered happily.
He conversed openly, venturing on whatever topic that he could think of. Soren was more than happy that Risam and Jadel cheerfully engaged in the conversation with him. Raif might not have been vocally involved, but he often grunted when he approved or disapproved of something. Soren did not realize that the conversation went a bit longer until Raffe, who had been silent since Soren spoke, grumbled, "Do you ever stop talking?"
The faie turned to look at him, blue eyes twinkling with evil mirth. "Do you ever stop scowling?" he countered, earning oohs and whistles from Jadel and Risam.
Soren expected all razor-sharp retorts and an edgy glare, not a blasted hearty chuckle from the prince. So when Raffe gave him that, Soren's eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Raffe, unaffected, stood up, slowly shook his head, and said, "You and your smart mouth, nitwit." He turned to his cousins, "If you're all done being amused at my expense, we've got to go. We have a mission to finish." He then made his way to their tent, leaving Soren dumbfounded. The faie turned to Raffe's cousins and when he found them copying his stunned expression, except for Raif who swiftly stood up and left when Raffe was gone, he shook his head, too thunderstruck to say anything.
