Fairy Tales Revisited on Silvery Earth

by Barbara G. Tarn

  Nerian slid closer to him and wrapped both hands against his, putting his chin on his shoulder.

  "And then we can leave together?" he whispered, hopeful.

  "To go where?" Riander smiled against his will. "Living off what? I haven't left yet because I don't know what to do out there. But if I can find some accord with my council..."

  "You have already someone in mind?" Nerian sounded excited.

  "Yes, Lady Viona's brother would be a perfect king. Or duke. Or lord. I mean, he can run this castle as well if not better than I do. He can consult me anytime and..."

  "Can I stay with you?" Nerian asked.

  A little puzzled, Riander looked at him again. "Why are you so eager to give up your father's inheritance? You're young, you have plenty of time to learn and..."

  "And I don't want to be king," Nerian replied. "I want to be with you. My hero."

  "Nerian, I don't think..."

  Nerian slid even closer and grabbed his head to pull him down. Nerian's kiss silenced Riander who closed his eyes, savoring the youth's mouth. He had never really liked kisses, but found himself ravaging Nerian's mouth, which the prince lying by his side passionately returned.

  They both broke the kiss to gasp for breath. Nerian's lips curved into an impish smile.

  "I knew you'd be the one, my beautiful hero..."

  Still breathless, Riander found his face covered in butterfly kisses.

  ***

  Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the snow still covered the roofs and battlements of Ker Garenn.

  Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of sparrows glided to talk with him. He knew he must look happy even to them.

  He had spent the night in Riander's bed, and had had the sweetest awakening ever. His hero had allowed him to touch and explore his perfect body and Nerian knew he was madly in love now. He wanted to please Riander for the rest of his life and couldn't be bothered with kingly duties anymore.

  And neither could Riander. They really should retire to a private life. He was falling asleep again with his head against Riander's chest when the barber and the king's personal servant had entered the room and were startled by his presence.

  He had quickly slipped his nightgown back on and rushed back to his own room, giggling like a child caught in the act. Nobody had shown up yet to wake him up, so he entertained the sparrows with his morning tryst.

  The cold forced him to close the window and dress, joining Riander in the hall where he was having breakfast, already surrounded by his counselors. The pained expression on the king's face made Nerian's heart beat faster. He must protect his beloved from all the people who wanted him.

  For the first time since he'd moved to Ker Garenn, he took part in the council session and spoke his mind. He said that King Riander was tired and he was too young and that the council should accept someone else as the head of the castle. Riander's puzzled but grateful stare made him hold his ground with the elder member who screamed outraged at him that it was unheard of.

  "My father was killed to get his throne," Nerian replied, determined. "Riander doesn't want his. He is willing to abdicate and name his successor. Why can't you accept this? What makes our blood so different from yours? If you cut our veins, you see red liquid pouring out. Much like yours."

  The council grumbled – all but the youngest member, Lord Arias, who stared at Riander with a half-smile. Nerian elbowed the king who looked dazed by his intervention.

  "Don't you have a successor in mind?" Nerian asked him.

  Riander cleared his throat.

  "Actually, yes. I have already mentioned it to him, but so far he has refused."

  The counselors stared at him, gaping – again, all but Lord Arias.

  "I want Lord Arias to sit on my father's seat and run the castle. If his sister, Lady Viona, has a boy, that boy can be considered my heir by blood and might succeed his uncle when he comes of age. If it's a girl, Lord Arias's firstborn male will continue the dynasty of rulers of Ker Garenn."

  "It won't be a kingdom anymore!" someone complained.

  "What's the difference between a kingdom and a dukedom?" Nerian replied. "You don't have a king to answer to anyway..." He looked at Lord Arias. "Do you accept the honor bestowed on you?" Useless to keep arguing if the chosen one refused to do Riander's bidding.

  "I do." Lord Arias bowed his head in agreement. "Are you willing to give up your own inheritance for a stranger such as myself?"

  "Of course." Nerian shrugged. "Riander was also a stranger until he saved my life. If he trusts you, so do I. If he thinks you'll be the perfect leader, who am I to speak against him? He's older and wiser than me!"

  "Thank you, Nerian." Riander put a hand on his shoulder and took back control of the conversation. A couple of hours later it was all set in writing. Lord Arias would consult with Riander when he saw fit, but Riander was mostly free to do what he wanted in his own apartment and the castle library.

  "I shall move back to my princely rooms," Riander said. "They are closer to the library and more comfortable for me."

  "What about Prince Nerian?"

  Nobody called him "king" at Ker Garenn, but Nerian didn't mind. Even his former subjects seemed happy to answer to someone older and wiser than him. He stared hopeful at Riander, waiting for his answer.

  "I believe we can share," Riander said with a smile.

  Nerian wanted to sing and dance, but stayed put. Nobody would wipe the ear-to-ear grin from his face, though. He met Riander's honey-colored eyes and felt as if he were high up in the sky.

  Cinder Boy

  1.

  Rohan slowly entered the natural warm pool that gathered under the small waterfall generated by the hot spring up the ledge. He sat on the uneven ground and let the warm waves wash away the ashes and the soreness from his body while inhaling the cool forest air.

  Oaks and beeches surrounded the small pond he had found in the woods behind the manor. It felt almost like a private bath chamber, with natural architecture enclosing it. The smell of musk filled his nostrils with a touch of sulfur coming from the water.

  The forested massif of Ker Noran had most of its inhabitants living on the outskirts of the woods. The castle and villages were on the river shore, and isolated farms and manors were closer to the trees that climbed the lower slopes of the mountains.

  Rohan's house was one of those, built at the edge of the forest and overlooking the castle of Ker Noran down the gentle slope that took to the river. A two-story manor house that could be locked up in case of siege, it could be a watchtower for the king or a hunting pavilion for the royal family, who hadn't bothered visiting in years.

  Winds from the coast further north brought lots of rain, allowing for luscious vegetation and feeding the many brooks at the bottom of smaller valleys, all flowing into the river Wated that provided the castle wells with cold freshwater.

  But between marshes and swamps, sometimes a pond of turquoise warm water surprised hunters.

  The forest provided timber and venison, and Rohan's family had been a guardian of that part of the woods for many generations now. Except he didn't feel as much in control as his father had been.

  They called him Cinder Boy, even though he had turned twenty-two the previous winter. His mother had died when he was ten and his father had remarried a widow with two sons from the castle nobility.

  Lady Blandina was blonde and blue-eyed like his late mother, and he had hoped his father had found a substitute that was just like the lost one. His hopeful gaze had looked awed at the beautiful lady who now sat by his father's side.

  And then Lady Blandina had moved to the manor with Tristan and William, two spoiled blond boys who had been very happy to be trained by his father, one of the best knights of the king's retinue. Lord Alan was a swordsmaster and a great rider, and Rohan was also a very good rider, since he'd been given his first horse around that time.

 
; When his mother was alive, he'd been used to helping around the house and they didn't have that many servants, but Lady Blandina demanded house servants. Until his father had died in a hunting accident a couple of years later, when his stepmother had shown her true face to Rohan.

  She had sent away most of the servants and moved him to the house chores, hence the Cinder Boy nickname. He'd been working as a servant since, and he'd been denied the chance to complete his knightly education, while his stepbrothers had been knighted by their uncle a few months earlier. Surely other knights of the king's court could have completed his training, but his stepmother didn't think he deserved it.

  Rohan sighed, relaxing in the warm pool. He didn't mind the house chores, but he missed the lessons with his father. He missed riding on his horse and having mock duels with the other knights-in-training. He missed going to the castle and joining the king in the great hall and talking to his peers.

  He'd watched with envy William and Tristan's training, and often wished he could take part in it. But his stepbrothers called him in only to beat him and use him as a practice dummy. Which still allowed him to hone his defense skills, even though he was given a club and wooden shield to parry and block the blows, and not a real weapon.

  Even though he'd been kicked out of his room and his position, he wasn't sour. He was waiting for the occasion that would allow him to rise from the ashes and claim his father's inheritance.

  When his stepbrothers weren't watching, he took their swords and tried the moves his father had taught him against a dummy, sometimes the scarecrow in the garden of the manor, sometimes a tree. He petted the horses in the stables and rode them as often as he could – usually when Lady Blandina was at the castle for some social gathering.

  "Is the water warm?"

  The voice startled him and he opened his eyes. A rider had stopped his mount on the other side of the waterfall and stared at him from the saddle. He wore travel clothes and dark stubble covered his cheeks. Raven hair and brown eyes, he stared straight at Rohan, who cursed himself for having been taken by surprise. The sound of the waterfall had covered the approaching traveler.

  "Yes, it's a hot spring," he answered, a little embarrassed for having been found lingering in a pond by a complete stranger.

  "I didn't know there were hot springs in the kingdom." The man got off his saddle. "I should probably use it before I reach Ker Noran... Do you happen to have a razor with you?"

  "Uh... no, but my house is not far, I can get you one if you want," Rohan answered, a little puzzled.

  "I'd be very grateful," the other said, starting to undress. He had tied the horse to a low branch and seemed to look forward to a bath.

  Rohan quickly got out of the water and wrapped himself in his towel, grabbing his clothes and shoes before heading back to the manor. He wondered who the man was and why he was headed for the castle.

  He dressed in the empty house – his step-family was at the castle, as usual – and took a clean towel and the necessities for shaving before going back to the woods. He found the stranger already in the water.

  "I hope you don't need clean clothes, since I don't have any to spare," Rohan said shyly, offering the shaving implements and the towel.

  "No, I still have a clean tunic in my pack. Thanks. You can join me, since I interrupted your bath."

  "Uh, no, thanks, I'm clean now. When you're done, take everything to the house you'll find at the end of that footpath." He pointed in the direction of the manor.

  "Thank you... what's your name?"

  "Rohan."

  "Rohan, I'm Kurtis. I shall bring back everything as soon as I'm done."

  Rohan nodded and headed home. His hair was still wet and he was a little upset by the meeting. Nobody had ever found the pond before. It was as if Kurtis had discovered his secret place... but then, maybe Kurtis was just passing and would leave without telling anyone about the natural warm pool in the woods.

  ***

  Nice ass, Kurtis thought. Pity he covered it so quickly.

  The pool was more comfortable than castles' bath-tubs and he wondered if the warm water also had some healing properties. It seemed to wash away all the soreness of the saddle and the long trip from Moriana.

  I may have never left Ker Noran if I'd met Rohan earlier in my life. The young man was gorgeous, with dark hair and blue eyes and that shy smile and perfectly toned body... Pity he must be a servant. If he were a knight, Kurtis could ask him to join his retinue.

  Maybe I should have asked him to stay and shave me, he mused. Although probably his masters wouldn't be happy if he kept their servant busy. Well, he could probably request him, if he really wanted to. Nobody would deny him anything.

  Now that he was almost home, he wasn't too keen on getting there. He knew what awaited him. His father had probably chosen a bride for him, and he'd lose all the freedom he'd had for the past three years.

  He hoped to be able to keep doing what he'd done in Moriana. But even though things had changed at the former capital of the Moren Empire, everything was probably still the same in Ker Noran.

  Kurtis sighed and washed his now shaven face before getting out of the water. He dried up his body and put on his last clean tunic and breeches, then led the horse through the woods towards the mentioned house.

  Rohan came out of the two-story manor to meet him, as if he were afraid to let him in. Kurtis admired once more the handsome, clean-shaven face, blue eyes and dark hair. And the body hidden under shaggy clothes.

  "Thank you," he said. "I hope to see you at the castle soon."

  "I'm never invited to the castle," Rohan answered, averting his eyes. "You have a safe trip, good sir."

  Definitely a servant, Kurtis thought. I should ask him if he has any skills, so I can request him for my service...

  But words didn't come out. He watched the young man go back into the house and close the door.

  He sighed and spurred the horse towards the castle.

  ***

  Rohan watched the rider leave from behind the windowpane and waited for his heart to stop beating so fast. Clean-shaven, Kurtis looked gorgeous, a true knight like his father had been, even though he wasn't wearing chainmail armor. But Rohan could see him jousting and fighting in a tournament – and winning the day.

  I wish I could become like him. I wish I could join the king's retinue...

  He went to the kitchen to help the cook, who was getting very old. The only servants left in the manor were her and her husband, the gardener. Their daughter came to do the laundry every other day, and Rohan usually did the cleaning and served the lady's table. He wasn't allowed to eat with the family anymore, but he didn't care.

  Tristan and William sounded quite excited during dinner. Something big was going to happen at the castle, and of course Rohan wasn't invited.

  "What is it this time?" he asked out of curiosity, knowing he wouldn't take part in it.

  "A tournament," Tristan answered. "The prince heir is back, and he will choose the knights for his retinue."

  Lady Blandina's eldest was a couple of years older than Rohan. He was blond and blue-eyed like his mother, but not as beautiful. Ladies liked Tristan more for his title than his looks, and his mother had already found a couple of suitable brides.

  She was negotiating with the maidens' parents, hoping to have one marry Tristan and the other William. No bride for Rohan, though. He wasn't her son, after all.

  "You wouldn't stand a chance of being picked up," William added with a smirk. "You're not a knight!"

  His impish smile had seduced many women. William was a few months younger than Rohan and more handsome than his brother. Ladies loved him for his looks and his charming ways, even though he showed none of that to his stepbrother.

  But since they were so close in age, sometimes William had asked Rohan to side with him against Tristan – behind Lady Blandina's back, of course.

  "Rohan is not coming to the tournament," Lady Blandina said sternly. "And you two bette
r stop fighting among yourselves if you want to stand a chance."

  "Don't worry, Mother, we'll show the prince what a great team we can be," Tristan assured her.

  Rohan scoffed. He doubted it. He took away the dirty dishes and sat by the hearth, brooding. He'd love to show them he could be a better knight than them. But he had no sword, no armor, no horse. And nobody had knighted him, even though he felt his knightly education was complete, despite his stepmother denying him.

  Lord Alan had joined the king's retinue when Konan was still prince heir. Why couldn't Rohan do the same? Why wasn't he allowed to take part in the tournament? Maybe he could try to ask his stepmother's permission. After all, they all thought he didn't stand a chance, so why shouldn't they let him try?

  Lady Blandina stared at him with a frown.

  "You haven't completed your knightly education, Rohan. You'd get killed. I can't allow you to do this. Your father would never forgive me."

  "My father would never forgive you the fact that you didn't allow me to complete my education!" Rohan snapped. "He was one of the king's men! I want to try to be like him too!"

  "That is out of the question, Rohan. You will not set foot in the castle. Ever. And that's final."

  Rohan clenched his teeth and stormed back to his room – well the place where they allowed him to sleep, up in the attic, with mice and doves. He threw himself on his bunk bed and screamed his frustration into the pillow.

  Then he calmed down. He'd find a way to go to the tournament. But he needed weapons.

  Night marched on as he tried to figure out how to become a true knight.

  ***

  "So, how are things in the east?" King Konan asked, staring at Kurtis who sat in front of him in his private chamber. "Was there truth to the rumor?"

  The king's hair was turning gray, and he had visibly aged since Kurtis had last seen him. The private chamber had a big mahogany desk, shelves of manuscripts and parchments bound in leather, and a chest for more writing implements – quills, ink, wax seals and blank sheets of parchment.