by Dan Wingreen
"My father was working on a massive project in the east wing of the castle, carving out new rooms for visiting nobility and ambassadors from far off kingdoms, which Ellington had recently come into contact with, and other such things. It was the largest in-castle remodeling project in over a century, and the King had even authorized some of the city masons to help lighten the load…"
Elias licked his lips. "One of them made a mistake. There was…a collapse. The entire east wing fell in on itself, killing everyone. The masons and other construction workers, the servants who still used it to get to other parts of the castle even though it was supposed to be officially closed, even a young noblewoman who used to loiter around to stare at the fit masons who very rarely went the entire day without taking their shirts off…and my mother.
"She wasn't supposed to be there, of course, and it wasn't until the next day anyone realized she was missing, and another week before…before she was found." Elias's vision started to blur, and he forced himself to stare unblinkingly at the wall until he was sure none of the tears were going to fall. "She was one of Queen Cornelia's personal maids, you see. They were…close. Closer than maid and nobility should have been; but that was the queen. She was never one for letting etiquette determine who she befriended. It turned out she had let my mother go free from her duties early that day so she could surprise my father for lunch. Apparently, the collapse happened in that two minute window right after she arrived, but before they could leave to go back to our quarters to eat. If she was five minutes earlier, or two minutes later…"
"Elias…" He heard the Prince shift again, and a mental image of him rising out of his chair and wrapping Elias in a hug sprang into his mind. He had no idea where it came from, or if that was even a possibility, but he quickly continued with his story regardless.
"The queen was wracked with guilt. She showed up at my door the night they found my mother's body. By that point I already knew what had happened, even at nine I was never one to ignore unpleasant facts, and I had thought I hadn't any tears left. Seeing the queen standing there, outside what amounted to very nice servants' quarters, in a black gown fit for a royal funeral, her eyes red and her cheeks wet, proved me laughably mistaken. I burst into tears, and the next thing I knew she was hugging me tightly and running her fingers through my hair, telling me over and over again she was sorry. It took me a while to realize that, instead of offering me the empty condolences the few people who bothered to check in on me had, she was actually apologizing for my mother's death. I never blamed her, though. And it wasn't until she died four years ago I realized I'd never actually told her that.
"Afterward, she became somewhat of a very close aunt. She never went as far as to take me in, even though she made it clear that she wanted to; some things were impossible even for a queen. Can't have someone of low birth suddenly show up in the line of succession, after all. But she did make sure every family affected by the collapse was taken care of for the rest of their lives. The children were given educations or apprenticeships in any job they wanted, even though none of them had lost both parents like I had, and the spouses were given a very generous stipend and allowed to live in the castle for as long as they wished. Many chose to move on, of course. As for me, if she couldn't adopt me, she was determined that I would have the exact same upbringing as her real son. I was given a royal education, placed in classes with the best teachers from across the continent, along with the Crown Prince and the children of the high nobility, and I was given free entry into the Royal University, even though my grades were more than good enough to earn me a scholarship."
He still remembered how proud Cornelia was when he told her he'd been offered no less than three scholarships based on academic achievement. She'd hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe, and, when he finally squirmed away, he'd had to politely pretend he didn't notice her wiping the tears from her eyes. Afterward, all he'd done was gently berate her for displaying such undignified behavior. He couldn't even remember if he'd bothered to return her embrace.
"I always held her at somewhat of a distance, though." He continued softly. "No matter how much I cared for her, and no matter that I knew she loved me like I was her own, I never made any effort to return her affections. Like I said, I didn't realize until it was too late she must have thought it was because I blamed her for my mother's death, but, in reality, it was because I was too scared to lose a mother for the second time…"
Elias flushed slightly, both in shame and embarrassment at how much he'd ended up saying. It was…too easy, talking to the Dark Prince. Much easier than it should be.
He cleared his throat. "And that's how I ended up in a class filled with nobles."
Silence filled the room once again after he was done, and Elias realized at some point during his story he had opened his eyes and started looking into the fire. He had the strange thought the flames might reach out and burn away the sorrows and regrets of his past. It was a fanciful and ridiculous thought, of course, but he still found himself staring into the fire and feeling something that was almost akin to longing.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a light touch on his hand. He started, then involuntarily tore his eyes away from the fire to see that the Dark Prince was leaning across the small space between their chairs and had covered Elias's hand with his own. This was the second time there had been physical contact between them since the night the Dark Prince used his magic on Elias, yet he still couldn't help immediately drawing comparisons. The Dark Prince's hand was just as soft as his cheek had been, as his other hand had been, but this touch was more hesitant than the Prince had been on either of those occasions. Elias had the impression he was ready to snatch it back at a moment's notice.
Or at Elias's first sign of discomfort, which would be more likely.
Yet Elias didn't pull away. He looked from the hand on top of his own up to the face of the Prince sitting across from him. There was an almost unbearable sorrow in his eyes. Like he was actually feeling Elias's pain, instead of just experiencing it by proxy.
"I am so sorry that had to happen to you," he said softly. "I'm so sorry your world had to change."
It felt like someone had reached into Elias's chest and squeezed.
He had received many condolences for what happened to his parents, some perfunctory and meaningless, some from people who were sad for him, and a rare few from people who actually somewhat understood what losing his entire family meant for him. But none had ever understood completely. Even Cornelia's grief and sorrow had been just as much about her guilt and losing her friend as it had been for Elias, even though she knew better than anyone how his world had changed. This Dark Prince, the same vain and insufferable twit who could infuriate Elias with nothing more than a smirk and a comment, who had never mourned the absence of a mother and who had an immortal father, both understood and was sorry for him. For what he lost, and only for what he lost. Elias had never realized until that very moment how much that would mean to him.
"I…" He worked his throat, trying to force words out even though he had no idea what he wanted to say. It was almost impossible to reconcile what he was feeling for who he was feeling it towards.
I never thought I would feel gratitude toward the Dark Prince. I never thought he would make anything better.
And yet, somehow, he had.
"Thank you," he whispered finally.
The Prince didn't say anything, he merely smiled, a small, sad smile, and gave Elias's hand a gentle squeeze. There was a slight easing in his chest. Not so much like a weight had been removed, but like part of it had been shifted slightly, perhaps to a place which could more easily bear it. Perhaps, in the end, that was what friendship was. And as Elias looked into the Prince's eyes and saw the flickering fire reflected in his irises, he had the strange idea that perhaps his earlier thought wasn't so fanciful and ridiculous after all.
Chapter 13
As if by silent consent, they stayed away from weighty, emotional to
pics for the rest of the night, choosing, instead, to spend their time together in silent companionship with little conversation. It gave Elias time to reflect, to come to terms with the fact he'd not only just opened up to someone for the first time, in any meaningful way since Cornelia, but also who that person was. He wondered if he should feel guilty that he chose to give up some of his tightly guarded inner self to the Dark Prince of all people, when he'd spent years resisting similar efforts from more enthusiastic companions such as the Crown Prince, or someone who understood Elias better, like the Head Librarian. He dismissed those thoughts immediately. Elias had few conceits, and assuming his "inner self" was some great prize to be bestowed upon someone who had earned such an august privilege, was certainly not one of them.
What conversation they did have ended up being pleasant and light, yet surprisingly meaningful for how it made Elias feel. It helped him recover from opening himself up. It helped him get himself under control. It was the first time the Dark Prince had ever had that effect on him, and Elias found it almost intoxicating. Yes, he could definitely see the appeal of friendship, if this was how it felt.
The next several days were somewhat similar. No large emotional outpourings, of course—Elias was all out of those and if the Dark Prince had any, he didn't seem in any hurry to reveal them—but the tenor of their conversations changed. Instead of the Dark Prince trying to provoke Elias—and Elias trying in vain to mask how irritated he was getting—and instead of the Dark Prince reciting stories from his life with varying levels of embellishment—and Elias trying to sift through them for the truth—they just…conversed.
Elias had had very little use for idle conversation in the past, and he was surprised at how pleasant it was. He was even more surprised at how informative it was as well. It was quite a happy coincidence, because while Elias had much experience analyzing facts and writing factual texts, he actually had exactly zero experience writing a biography. Biographies needed something more than a recitation of facts or a scholarly analysis of what caused someone's behavior. They needed to be imbued with the essence of their subject, something Elias had completely overlooked. How lucky it was, then, that he learned more about the Dark Prince as a person in those few days of conversation than he had in all their meetings before. Not just the experiences that made up his life, but who he was. What he cared about. Elias found it all surprisingly fascinating.
The Dark Prince's favorite color was black. "Yes Elias, black. It goes with everything and it's slimming, what's not to love?" His favorite food was fried cliff racer strips. "Don't look at me like that, they're perfectly edible as long as they haven't eaten anybody recently." He loved ancient gnomish theater. "Truly Elias, you haven't seen The Cornhusker's Son until you've seen it in the original Gnomish." He also had the secret desire to own a pet nekomata. "It will never happen, of course. They're just intelligent enough for owning one to be considered slavery, and there are too many different intelligent species living in Mournhelm for any kind of peace to survive if we all just go around enslaving each other. But they're so adorable!"
They also found out they had a surprising number of interests in common. They both preferred winter—Elias because the cold kept most people in the castle in their rooms in front of a fire and away from him, and the Prince because he loved the snow, which accumulated in Mournhelm's less volcanic southern regions—they both enjoyed spending quiet nights reading, neither of them were particularly fond of athletics—though the Prince had an obsession with grand tournaments that bordered on disturbing—and they both shared Elias's secret shame.
"You read horror stories?" The Prince's gasp was half-scandalized, half-thrilled.
Elias flushed and tried not to fidget defensively. "You just admitted you do as well."
"Well, yes, but you're…you're Elias"—the Prince grinned—"the Guardian of Fact and Logic. Who would have ever guessed that you like reading pulp horror?"
"Nobody," Elias said flatly, "Which is why you'll not be mentioning it to anyone."
While he didn't particularly care about upholding any reputation he might have, aside from his scholarly one, he most certainly did not want to deal with the headache of a Crown Prince who knew his pleasure reading habits.
The Prince smiled. "Don't worry, Elias, your secrets are safe with me."
And since it was one of the smiles Elias had learned to trust, he knew they were. He relaxed. This friendship kept paying off in unexpected ways.
It was also during one of these conversations that Elias stumbled, completely and utterly by accident, onto the answer to one of the most burning questions he had about the Dark Prince.
It was during a conversation where the Dark Prince had asked about Elias's future. The Prince couldn't believe Elias was satisfied to be a scholar for the rest of his life; or as he put it "you don't have a kingdom to inherit either! Surely you can't be content with that?" Elias had assured him that, yes, he was very content with never having anything remotely like a kingdom to run and being a scholar for the rest of his life.
"You would never want to have a kingdom?" the Prince asked. He seemed equal parts aghast and disappointed, and Elias had no idea why.
"Of course not." Elias had said it slowly, like he was talking to a small child, but when there was no light of comprehension in the Prince's eyes, he sighed and continued. "Highness, I've seen what running a kingdom is like. Despite what most people believe, a king can't just snap his fingers and have his will be done. Ruling is politics and dealing with people and trying to make everyone happy without angering enough people to the point where they want to rebel. It is a headache I would never want," he added emphatically.
"Not even if you could make things better?" the Prince asked.
His voice held the barest hint of a pout, but the expression on his face was oddly serious. Which made Elias take the question more seriously than he meant to, much to his minor annoyance.
"I…would not know where to begin, even if I did have that power. Perhaps that's why it's a good thing I don't. I am not meant to make decisions like that."
"I think that's your upbringing talking." The Prince rolled his eyes. "From what you've told me, you seem to have very little trouble telling your atrocity of a prince what he should be doing."
Elias snorted. "There's nothing hard about that. I just tell him to do the opposite of anything he thinks is a good idea."
The Prince smiled briefly. "It's more than that," he insisted. "The advice you give him is good, and it's more thought out than 'do the opposite of what you think is right'."
"Perhaps." He was getting slightly fed up with the conversation, but it was something the Dark Prince seemed to be taking seriously, and Elias found himself tolerating it for that reason alone.
He mentally scowled at himself, wondering what happened to the days when he would just tell the Prince off and refuse to indulge him.
Because that always worked out so well.
His mental scowl turned into a glare, but he had to admit his inner voice was right. Things had been going a lot more smoothly for him, for both of them, since Elias learned to tolerate the Prince's personality. He briefly wondered if, had he tried in earnest to befriend the Crown Prince, Elias would have found his presence easier to stand. Somehow he doubted it. The Dark Prince, at least, recognized reality and acted within its limits.
Usually.
"But if I do give good advice"—Elias went on, cutting off whatever the Dark Prince was going to say—"it's only because I have a propensity for recognizing bad advice and criticizing accordingly."
The Prince's eyes lit up. "So, what you're saying is that you'd be a good adviser, and not a king?"
Elias sighed. "That's not at all what—"
"Of course, of course." The Prince cut him off, waving his hand. "You wouldn't say that, but that is, in effect, what you're saying even though it's not something you would ever say. Wouldn't you say?"
Elias stared flatly at him, refusing to answer. The Princ
e just laughed.
"Are you done?" Elias asked a few moments later.
"Of course not, Elias." The Prince grinned. "When am I ever done?"
Just last week that would have made me twitch with the need to throw something at him. I'm getting better.
The thought did much to lighten his mood.
"And what about you?" Elias found himself asking. "You're quite fond of reminding me you also have no kingdom to inherit. Do you have any secondary aspirations?" He found himself glancing towards the shelf filled with books written by the Dark King, and decided now was as good a time as any to bring up something that had been growing in the back of Elias's mind since he'd first noticed it. "Or are all those books there simply to remind you of everything else your father has accomplished, and which you never will?"
The Dark Prince's eyes widened in surprise and it was all Elias could do not to leap to his feet and shout in triumph. He had finally affected the Prince the same way the Prince had always affected him. He just knew it. He could practically feel it. Beyond the satisfaction, though, something else teased the edge of his awareness. An answer that he could almost see…
"You noticed that, did you?" The Prince's lips twisted wryly.
The answer slipped away, but that was okay. This happened often when Elias was researching something he didn't quite understand. It would come to him in time. The fact that he could even partially understand was most encouraging. As was this conversation, although not for purely educational reasons. He found himself immensely curious about just how the Dark Prince saw his own future.
"Yes," he said simply.
The Prince shook his head. "And you wonder why…" He laughed. "Never mind. Yes, as you may have guessed, I don't just carry them around because they're so light and easy to travel with."
Elias, who had much experience traveling just across a castle with stacks of unwieldy books, couldn't help smiling at the Prince's irony.
