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The special book
Jun. 4th, 2020 09:05 pmCN: dangerous, destructive fire, reading & sharing a private diary,
The royal family has kindly provided Viren with several books and pens. He uses these to record spells and studies, filling them quickly with copious research and the ideas the research inspires. The ideas lead to more research, which leads to more ideas, which leads to a need for more books and quills and ink.
Prince Harrow has taken to stopping by the library in the evening. He knows he'll find Viren there, usually curled on a bench with his latest tome. Harrow delivers fresh supplies and sometimes asks what he's reading. Viren gushes about history and magic, honing his dramatic storytelling to hold Harrow's interest, and tries to hide his blushes in response to the prince's smiles.
On weekend mornings Viren rises early and goes out into the hills to gather spell ingredients, and sometimes to read and write in seclusion in his special book. This one he bought himself in the market, and in it he writes private, secret, impractical things. On a few occasions he attempts poetry.
In the later morning he wanders back near the castle, and often finds Harrow with a picnic basket and plans for the afternoon. Sometimes Viren gets pulled into games or schemes with the prince's other friends, but often they spend time together, alone. No matter how dirty he gets, or how much they argue, Viren treasures the time.
He treasures the memories, too, and the feelings wrapped up in them. They're bright and warm and often confusing, and they find their way into his special book.
***
When the apprentices and acolytes are sent on retreat to prepare for their final year of training, they can only take a few possessions, but he can't make himself leave the book behind. He writes in it more than ever, missing Harrow and dreaming of him. He writes letters he would never send, and love ballads with the names and details changed to fit his fantasies.
He always keeps track of the book's location, until the night when they're sent to fight a fire threatening a nearby village. The wind changes, and the last remnant of the fire races through the forest and their camp. With spells, and shovels, and what water they can carry, they save every life, and a haphazard horde of belongings.
Opeli is tasked with sorting the unclaimed books and papers. Viren's special book is singed, with its covers charred completely. She holds it up and asks who claims it, but Viren turns away, ashamed.
He should have realized she would read it. She brings it to him later, and he snarls about private words. She snaps back that she was doing her duty, and since he's so ungrateful she's going to enjoy reporting his impropriety to the prince.
Viren's heart clenches with dread. He can't bring himself to beg her not to, yet he spends every hour of the journey back in despair.
***
He wants to avoid Harrow to postpone the inevitable. He falls into bed exhausted, thrice-bathed but still brushing ash from his hair and tasting it when he breathes.
When he wakes there's a note by the bed. He puts off getting up for a while, then finally trudges off to what feels like doom. But the prince's expression is mild, and his tone is gentle.
"She told me what's in it. She seemed to think it was scandalous, but I don't see why. It's not like you're marching into the throne room demanding my hand in marriage." He laughs at the ridiculous notion. Viren tries to join him, but only manages a choking noise, as that image settles firmly into his repertoire of daydreams.
"Anyway, I'm sorry you had your private thoughts exposed, and I want you to know it doesn't change anything. I'm glad you're safe and back beside me."
Harrow claps a hand on his shoulder, then sort of lunges into an awkward hug that has Viren staggering back a step. The closeness and relief are overwhelming, and as soon as the prince lets go he retreats to the door.
Harrow calls, "Wait," and holds out the book. Viren doesn't take it.
He says, "You can read it, if you want."
Harrow frowns. "But you don't want me to."
Viren covers his face with his hands. His throat is tight. "I don't know!"
Harrow pats his elbow reassuringly.
"Alright, I'll read it. We can talk about it at lunch on Sunday."
***
It felt like the right choice then, but as lunchtime on Sunday approaches, Viren starts to panic. He brings his customary contribution of drink and specially selected cheese and starts serving it to an unusually quiet and flustered-looking Harrow.
The silence is awkward, but Viren can't think how to break it, so he just eats.
"I was wrong."
Harrow won't look at him, awkwardly clenching his fingers in his hair, and Viren suddenly forgets how to swallow, or breathe.
"I thought it wouldn't change anything, because I've thought of you as my best friend for so long." Harrow takes a deep breath. He picks up a fork and starts tapping it against his leg. "I guess I never thought we could be, um... more than that. But now, I can't stop thinking about it..."
Viren makes an absurd and undignified sound of shocked happiness. It makes Harrow grin and giggle, and then keep laughing, dragging Viren with him into laughter. Into sprawling on the blanket, lightheaded and trembling as his prince takes his hand.
"I missed you so much. I wrote letters, too, and didn't send them. But they weren't like what you wrote. It was beautiful."
There's a quick, furtive brush of lips against his cheek, before they sit up again to eat lunch. Harrow doesn't stop holding his hand, or looking at him and breaking into shy, soft smiles.
There's warm peach pie for dessert, with ice cream, and they feed it to each other in small bites. Harrow wipes a trace off Viren's lip with his thumb. He leans in til their lips nearly touch, and Viren closes the distance.
***
"Next time you go out, come wake me up. I want to go with you."
The guards give him knowing smiles.
Waking Harrow is a challenge. When he finally tries parting the curtains, the prince covers his eyes and squawks like an affronted parrot. Then he focuses, grins, and beckons Viren to the bed. Harrow's morning breath is atrocious, but a small price to pay for the warmth that spreads all the way to his toes when they kiss.
Viren waits on the balcony for his prince to dress. When Harrow joins him, the arm across his shoulder is familiar, but the caressing touch is new, and welcome in a way that makes his heart ache.
In courtyard below, acolytes are returning from morning prayer. Viren recognizes Opeli's voice and entertains the fleeting thought that he should thank her.
Harrow is once again wearing that shy, sweet smile he can't help but match. They gaze out over the kingdom together.
The royal family has kindly provided Viren with several books and pens. He uses these to record spells and studies, filling them quickly with copious research and the ideas the research inspires. The ideas lead to more research, which leads to more ideas, which leads to a need for more books and quills and ink.
Prince Harrow has taken to stopping by the library in the evening. He knows he'll find Viren there, usually curled on a bench with his latest tome. Harrow delivers fresh supplies and sometimes asks what he's reading. Viren gushes about history and magic, honing his dramatic storytelling to hold Harrow's interest, and tries to hide his blushes in response to the prince's smiles.
On weekend mornings Viren rises early and goes out into the hills to gather spell ingredients, and sometimes to read and write in seclusion in his special book. This one he bought himself in the market, and in it he writes private, secret, impractical things. On a few occasions he attempts poetry.
In the later morning he wanders back near the castle, and often finds Harrow with a picnic basket and plans for the afternoon. Sometimes Viren gets pulled into games or schemes with the prince's other friends, but often they spend time together, alone. No matter how dirty he gets, or how much they argue, Viren treasures the time.
He treasures the memories, too, and the feelings wrapped up in them. They're bright and warm and often confusing, and they find their way into his special book.
***
When the apprentices and acolytes are sent on retreat to prepare for their final year of training, they can only take a few possessions, but he can't make himself leave the book behind. He writes in it more than ever, missing Harrow and dreaming of him. He writes letters he would never send, and love ballads with the names and details changed to fit his fantasies.
He always keeps track of the book's location, until the night when they're sent to fight a fire threatening a nearby village. The wind changes, and the last remnant of the fire races through the forest and their camp. With spells, and shovels, and what water they can carry, they save every life, and a haphazard horde of belongings.
Opeli is tasked with sorting the unclaimed books and papers. Viren's special book is singed, with its covers charred completely. She holds it up and asks who claims it, but Viren turns away, ashamed.
He should have realized she would read it. She brings it to him later, and he snarls about private words. She snaps back that she was doing her duty, and since he's so ungrateful she's going to enjoy reporting his impropriety to the prince.
Viren's heart clenches with dread. He can't bring himself to beg her not to, yet he spends every hour of the journey back in despair.
***
He wants to avoid Harrow to postpone the inevitable. He falls into bed exhausted, thrice-bathed but still brushing ash from his hair and tasting it when he breathes.
When he wakes there's a note by the bed. He puts off getting up for a while, then finally trudges off to what feels like doom. But the prince's expression is mild, and his tone is gentle.
"She told me what's in it. She seemed to think it was scandalous, but I don't see why. It's not like you're marching into the throne room demanding my hand in marriage." He laughs at the ridiculous notion. Viren tries to join him, but only manages a choking noise, as that image settles firmly into his repertoire of daydreams.
"Anyway, I'm sorry you had your private thoughts exposed, and I want you to know it doesn't change anything. I'm glad you're safe and back beside me."
Harrow claps a hand on his shoulder, then sort of lunges into an awkward hug that has Viren staggering back a step. The closeness and relief are overwhelming, and as soon as the prince lets go he retreats to the door.
Harrow calls, "Wait," and holds out the book. Viren doesn't take it.
He says, "You can read it, if you want."
Harrow frowns. "But you don't want me to."
Viren covers his face with his hands. His throat is tight. "I don't know!"
Harrow pats his elbow reassuringly.
"Alright, I'll read it. We can talk about it at lunch on Sunday."
***
It felt like the right choice then, but as lunchtime on Sunday approaches, Viren starts to panic. He brings his customary contribution of drink and specially selected cheese and starts serving it to an unusually quiet and flustered-looking Harrow.
The silence is awkward, but Viren can't think how to break it, so he just eats.
"I was wrong."
Harrow won't look at him, awkwardly clenching his fingers in his hair, and Viren suddenly forgets how to swallow, or breathe.
"I thought it wouldn't change anything, because I've thought of you as my best friend for so long." Harrow takes a deep breath. He picks up a fork and starts tapping it against his leg. "I guess I never thought we could be, um... more than that. But now, I can't stop thinking about it..."
Viren makes an absurd and undignified sound of shocked happiness. It makes Harrow grin and giggle, and then keep laughing, dragging Viren with him into laughter. Into sprawling on the blanket, lightheaded and trembling as his prince takes his hand.
"I missed you so much. I wrote letters, too, and didn't send them. But they weren't like what you wrote. It was beautiful."
There's a quick, furtive brush of lips against his cheek, before they sit up again to eat lunch. Harrow doesn't stop holding his hand, or looking at him and breaking into shy, soft smiles.
There's warm peach pie for dessert, with ice cream, and they feed it to each other in small bites. Harrow wipes a trace off Viren's lip with his thumb. He leans in til their lips nearly touch, and Viren closes the distance.
***
"Next time you go out, come wake me up. I want to go with you."
The guards give him knowing smiles.
Waking Harrow is a challenge. When he finally tries parting the curtains, the prince covers his eyes and squawks like an affronted parrot. Then he focuses, grins, and beckons Viren to the bed. Harrow's morning breath is atrocious, but a small price to pay for the warmth that spreads all the way to his toes when they kiss.
Viren waits on the balcony for his prince to dress. When Harrow joins him, the arm across his shoulder is familiar, but the caressing touch is new, and welcome in a way that makes his heart ache.
In courtyard below, acolytes are returning from morning prayer. Viren recognizes Opeli's voice and entertains the fleeting thought that he should thank her.
Harrow is once again wearing that shy, sweet smile he can't help but match. They gaze out over the kingdom together.
