Part 4

Inner Reflection | home

back to A Tale of Two Princes

Part 4

Chris dragged himself up the steps of the north-northwest tower after the guard. The guard on shift at the top of the steps had woken him with little explanation. All he'd said was that Lance has gone to see the prisoner around dinnertime, that he'd dismissed the guard to the landing below and had not emerged hours later. The guard grew worried, went to check on them and knew he immediately had to bring the King to see for himself.

Though irritated by the lateness of the hour, Chris was both worried and curious. Lance *was* his brother, and what could prompt the guard to summon him, rather than more guards? He got his answer when he peered into the cell. It was dimly lit by moonlight and the guard's lantern, but the scene was still clear. Lance and JC lay on the floor, twined together beneath the flimsy protection of JC's bed sheets. Clothes were scattered about the room. Lance's head was tucked tenderly under JC's chin. They smiled as they slept.

As Chris stood there, shocked at this sudden turn of events, not sure whether to be pleased or worried, JC's eyes slowly drifted open. Just when Chris might have left, lest he be noticed, something on the floor of the cell caught the lantern light. Peering in, Chris saw it was Lance's key to the cell, discarded carelessly and forgotten in his haste. Chris froze, numbed by the past possibilities. JC could have taken it any time during the night. There were only two guards - a careful escape would have succeeded.

Chris lifted his gaze and found JC watching him. The Prince then very deliberately dropped his eyes to the key. Turning his gaze to Lance, he studied his lover for a long moment. Wit a final glance at the King, JC settled Lance more securely in his arms and slipped once more into slumber.

Chris stepped back from the cell door and leaned against the wall. JC could not have been clearer if he'd spoken. After a thoughtful moment Chris smiled broadly and left the lovers to their sleep.

***

Lance woke slowly. The sunlight coming in through the cell window was warm on his face and he was rather stiff from sleeping on the stone floor, but these were not the first things he noticed. For long moments Lance was aware only of JC's warm embrace and the lingering scent of musk. Slowly, reluctantly, he came to full awareness. As he did, he had to wonder - how had they managed to sleep the night through without being disturbed? He'd not considered it at the time, but it was very unusual that the guard hadn't checked on them after the first couple of hours. Puzzled, but unwilling to question their good fortune, Lance wakened JC.

"Jace," he murmured, "Jace I have to go. I shouldn't have stayed the night. God knows why no one's looked in on us yet."

"'Sokay," JC murmured, reaching for Lance though he was still half asleep. "Stay."

"I'll be back," Lance promised as he finished dressing, though he didn't know how he'd keep his word. After a final check to ensure his clothes were in order Lance stepped out of the cell as matter-of-factly as possible.

"Good morning, highness," the guard, still on the second landing, said with an odd look that was suspiciously like a suppressed grin. Lance frowned. "His majesty wants to speak with you."

"Thank you," Lance nodded and got out of there before the guard's strange attitude got to him.

Thankfully, he met no one on the way to Chris' office. Lance took one look at his brother's expression and sat down. Somehow he knew he'd need to. "Where were you last night?" Chris asked, not looking up from the spread of papers on his desk. Lance didn't know what to say. "You ran out on Clarice in the middle of dinner and were not seen for the remainder of the night." Still Lance was quiet, struggling for an explanation but not knowing how much Chris knew. At last Chris looked up...and promptly broke down laughing. "The expression on your face, Lance," he gasped. He took a moment to seize control of his mirth and came around to sit on the edge of the desk. Lance watched, confused. "Relax," Chris said at last, still chuckling. "I know exactly where you were. I was just playing a little. Don't look so worried. Didn't I tell you once to accept love wherever you found it?"

"You're not upset?" Lance asked tentatively.

"Upset? I'm ecstatic! My little brother is in love. What's more, the prophecy will once again protect us. Assuming," Chris gave Lance a sharp glance, "he loves you back."

"He does," Lance answered the half question, blushing.

"Well, then everything is well, right?"

"Except that he's a prisoner we're holding for ransom," Lance reminded, not wanting to but unable to escape the reality of the situation.

"There is that," Chris allowed, sobering. "He can't be free to go. I hope you understand that. Things will be better next year, but this winter we need the grain."

"He doesn't want to go back," Lance said quietly.

"No?"

"We wouldn't be allowed to be together there."

"Ah," Chris said, understanding. "Well, so long as he understand the situation, there's no reason he has to stay locked up there. Come, we'll tell the guards together. You can bring Prince Chasez down and dismiss the suitors together."

"Dismiss the... Of course." Comprehension dawned and Lance grinned broadly and stood. "Come then," he hurried, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Chris could only laugh at Lance's eagerness.

***

(1 week later)

When Lance and JC returned from a brief ride about the countryside (JC having sworn up and down to Chris that he had no desire to take off and leave Lance) there was a grave faced Chris waiting for them in the stables. "Is something wrong?" Lance asked, concerned. The mood of the palace in the past week had been almost celebratory. The dismissed suitors were, in large part, relieved (Lance couldn't bring himself to be offended - he was relieved, too). JC had become a minor celebrity as the man who finally won the Prince's heart. His and Lance's story was being embellished upon as it spread through the country the way gossip always does, and the people were settling down with the certainty that next year would be prosperous. Why, then, the King's seriousness?

"Something is both wrong and right," he answered Lance heavily. "Three-quarters of the demanded ransom has been paid, and I have accepted it. It is enough. However, with the payment of the ransom, King Chasez expects the return of his son."

JC slumped in his saddle, then slowly dismounted. Lance followed suit. "Can't we just tell him I don't want to leave?" JC asked weakly.

Chris shook his head, as JC knew he would. "Kind Chasez would never accept that as the truth, not from a messenger. Not even from you, I expect. He has paid and we...we must return you."

Lance looked helplessly from his lover to his brother. "I'll go with you."

"No," Chris shook his head sadly. "You know you can't. The prophecy is tied to a person, not to the kingdom. You can't leave Tropria, you know that."

"If I stay," Lance responded, dejected, "and Jace goes, I will be brokenhearted. Is that so much better?"

"The prophecy requires your love, not your happiness." Chris' tone was apologetic but firm.

"When," JC paused, then forced himself to go on, "when must I leave?"

"Now. The caravan bearing the ransom was unloaded while you were on your ride. The messenger is most eager to collect you and leave."

Lance turned, agonized, to JC. "Now? Not even a proper goodbye..." He wrapped his arms about JC as if to physically restrain him from going. "And when I next see you," he murmured, unable to leave the painful thought unvoiced, "you will have a wife by your side."

JC, hearing the tears thick in Lance's voice, could only kiss him softly. "I'll be back," he whispered as their lips parted. "I don't know how, I don't know when, but I'll come back to you."

"I love you," Lance said, one last time.

"I love you back," JC echoed and smiled for just a moment before he turned and walked away, and was gone.


	Inner Reflection \| home back to A Tale of Two Princes Part 4 Chris dragged himself up the steps of the north-northwest tower after the guard. The guard on shift at the top of the steps had woken him with little explanation. All he'd said was that Lance has gone to see the prisoner around dinnertime, that he'd dismissed the guard to the landing below and had not emerged hours later. The guard grew worried, went to check on them and knew he immediately had to bring the King to see for himself. Though irritated by the lateness of the hour, Chris was both worried and curious. Lance was his brother, and what could prompt the guard to summon him, rather than more guards? He got his answer when he peered into the cell. It was dimly lit by moonlight and the guard's lantern, but the scene was still clear. Lance and JC lay on the floor, twined together beneath the flimsy protection of JC's bed sheets. Clothes were scattered about the room. Lance's head was tucked tenderly under JC's chin. They smiled as they slept. As Chris stood there, shocked at this sudden turn of events, not sure whether to be pleased or worried, JC's eyes slowly drifted open. Just when Chris might have left, lest he be noticed, something on the floor of the cell caught the lantern light. Peering in, Chris saw it was Lance's key to the cell, discarded carelessly and forgotten in his haste. Chris froze, numbed by the past possibilities. JC could have taken it any time during the night. There were only two guards - a careful escape would have succeeded. Chris lifted his gaze and found JC watching him. The Prince then very deliberately dropped his eyes to the key. Turning his gaze to Lance, he studied his lover for a long moment. Wit a final glance at the King, JC settled Lance more securely in his arms and slipped once more into slumber. Chris stepped back from the cell door and leaned against the wall. JC could not have been clearer if he'd spoken. After a thoughtful moment Chris smiled broadly and left the lovers to their sleep. * Lance woke slowly. The sunlight coming in through the cell window was warm on his face and he was rather stiff from sleeping on the stone floor, but these were not the first things he noticed. For long moments Lance was aware only of JC's warm embrace and the lingering scent of musk. Slowly, reluctantly, he came to full awareness. As he did, he had to wonder - how had they managed to sleep the night through without being disturbed? He'd not considered it at the time, but it was very unusual that the guard hadn't checked on them after the first couple of hours. Puzzled, but unwilling to question their good fortune, Lance wakened JC. "Jace," he murmured, "Jace I have to go. I shouldn't have stayed the night. God knows why no one's looked in on us yet." "'Sokay," JC murmured, reaching for Lance though he was still half asleep. "Stay." "I'll be back," Lance promised as he finished dressing, though he didn't know how he'd keep his word. After a final check to ensure his clothes were in order Lance stepped out of the cell as matter-of-factly as possible. "Good morning, highness," the guard, still on the second landing, said with an odd look that was suspiciously like a suppressed grin. Lance frowned. "His majesty wants to speak with you." "Thank you," Lance nodded and got out of there before the guard's strange attitude got to him. Thankfully, he met no one on the way to Chris' office. Lance took one look at his brother's expression and sat down. Somehow he knew he'd need to. "Where were you last night?" Chris asked, not looking up from the spread of papers on his desk. Lance didn't know what to say. "You ran out on Clarice in the middle of dinner and were not seen for the remainder of the night." Still Lance was quiet, struggling for an explanation but not knowing how much Chris knew. At last Chris looked up...and promptly broke down laughing. "The expression on your face, Lance," he gasped. He took a moment to seize control of his mirth and came around to sit on the edge of the desk. Lance watched, confused. "Relax," Chris said at last, still chuckling. "I know exactly where you were. I was just playing a little. Don't look so worried. Didn't I tell you once to accept love wherever you found it?" "You're not upset?" Lance asked tentatively. "Upset? I'm ecstatic! My little brother is in love. What's more, the prophecy will once again protect us. Assuming," Chris gave Lance a sharp glance, "he loves you back." "He does," Lance answered the half question, blushing. "Well, then everything is well, right?" "Except that he's a prisoner we're holding for ransom," Lance reminded, not wanting to but unable to escape the reality of the situation. "There is that," Chris allowed, sobering. "He can't be free to go. I hope you understand that. Things will be better next year, but this winter we need the grain." "He doesn't want to go back," Lance said quietly. "No?" "We wouldn't be allowed to be together there." "Ah," Chris said, understanding. "Well, so long as he understand the situation, there's no reason he has to stay locked up there. Come, we'll tell the guards together. You can bring Prince Chasez down and dismiss the suitors together." "Dismiss the... Of course." Comprehension dawned and Lance grinned broadly and stood. "Come then," he hurried, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Chris could only laugh at Lance's eagerness. * (1 week later) When Lance and JC returned from a brief ride about the countryside (JC having sworn up and down to Chris that he had no desire to take off and leave Lance) there was a grave faced Chris waiting for them in the stables. "Is something wrong?" Lance asked, concerned. The mood of the palace in the past week had been almost celebratory. The dismissed suitors were, in large part, relieved (Lance couldn't bring himself to be offended - he was relieved, too). JC had become a minor celebrity as the man who finally won the Prince's heart. His and Lance's story was being embellished upon as it spread through the country the way gossip always does, and the people were settling down with the certainty that next year would be prosperous. Why, then, the King's seriousness? "Something is both wrong and right," he answered Lance heavily. "Three-quarters of the demanded ransom has been paid, and I have accepted it. It is enough. However, with the payment of the ransom, King Chasez expects the return of his son." JC slumped in his saddle, then slowly dismounted. Lance followed suit. "Can't we just tell him I don't want to leave?" JC asked weakly. Chris shook his head, as JC knew he would. "Kind Chasez would never accept that as the truth, not from a messenger. Not even from you, I expect. He has paid and we...we must return you." Lance looked helplessly from his lover to his brother. "I'll go with you." "No," Chris shook his head sadly. "You know you can't. The prophecy is tied to a person, not to the kingdom. You can't leave Tropria, you know that." "If I stay," Lance responded, dejected, "and Jace goes, I will be brokenhearted. Is that so much better?" "The prophecy requires your love, not your happiness." Chris' tone was apologetic but firm. "When," JC paused, then forced himself to go on, "when must I leave?" "Now. The caravan bearing the ransom was unloaded while you were on your ride. The messenger is most eager to collect you and leave." Lance turned, agonized, to JC. "Now? Not even a proper goodbye..." He wrapped his arms about JC as if to physically restrain him from going. "And when I next see you," he murmured, unable to leave the painful thought unvoiced, "you will have a wife by your side." JC, hearing the tears thick in Lance's voice, could only kiss him softly. "I'll be back," he whispered as their lips parted. "I don't know how, I don't know when, but I'll come back to you." "I love you," Lance said, one last time. "I love you back," JC echoed and smiled for just a moment before he turned and walked away, and was gone.