The first thing Dean noticed was the lack of guards.
Almost as though Jak had read his mind, the older man leaned in. "They don't need guards. No one is setting foot in this country, let alone the castle."
Dean furrowed his brows, recalling the people's one-sided adoration of the royal family. Surely it would make sense to keep the current king well guarded from the population? Even if things weren't as bad as the hushed whispers made them out to be, it was a risk Dean didn't expect the Faolins to take so lightly.
"Oh, we do have guards," Reiven interjected, "but pray you will never need to see them."
Dean gave the prince a few moments for him to elaborate but the Winter Raven did not. To his surprise, Jak looked equally as perplexed but neither harvester questioned the monarch.
The trio approached the glass doors at the end of the hallway and as they did so, Jak suddenly stopped, standing to attention with his arms straight and rigid at his sides before saluting the prince. He moved to the side of the door; Dean followed suit, standing at the other side like soldiers. Reiven shrugged in response before folding his arms across his chest and sighing deeply but as he did so, a smile rested on his face.
"Oh, come now," he said, "I did not bring you both all the way up here to wait outside and twiddle your thumbs while I bicker with my brother. Besides...there is a reason why I want you both here."
Jak relaxed his stance, his stern face marred with confusion.
"Your Royal Highness, the King did not ask for guests nor will he appreciate the unexpected visit. Are you certain this is wise?"
No sooner had Jak finished his word than the prince had placed a hand on each of the glass doors and swung them open.
"Darling brother!" he cried as he stood in the doorway, "Your favourite little vampire has returned from his exciting adventures overseas once more! Would you like to hear of my escapades in enemy territory or shall I have a scribe record it as memoirs and deliver it to you post-haste?"
They were met with silence.
As Dean cast his gaze all around what he could only assume was the king's chambers, he was struck by how...well, how dilapidated it was. The high-ceiling hung above them, dangling its large chandelier like a spider showing off its quarry among a silk web. The candles wedged into the gold rings were caked with dirt and dust.
Numerous paintings clung to the walls but they were dull, some even damaged or torn - a far cry from the immaculate artwork they'd passed earlier in the hallways.
Before them, a large writing bureau sat proudly, littered with papers and parchments, books piled high and various bottle of coloured inks and quills. Dean noticed each window was cloaked with heavy curtains, blotting out the daylight entirely. A solitary candle struggled to flood the room with its light, perched high on a table-top candelabra. A dark wooden chair loomed over the desk, its high back pointing to the trio.
On the other half of the room, a large oak bed was draped with black velvet, obscuring most of its white sheets from view. The floors were white marble but this half of the room's floors were clean and polished — on the other side of the room, the same beautiful marble lay clad in dust. Before Dean could absorb the myriad bookshelves along the forgotten part of the large chambers, a voice seethed out from the corner directly in front of them.
"You unequivocal brat!"
"Ah, yes, I am a brat for wishing to see more of this beautiful world, yes. Brother, please." The mirth faded from Reiven's voice. In a few swift, graceful movements, he strutted across the room towards the table, placing his palms on it and leaning his weight on them. "You act as though I inconvenience you but may I remind you that I have only returned because of your inability to make your own decisions? Spare me your disrespect, especially when we have guests. A forked tongue and foul temper does a king no favours with his subjects."
Bang!
Dust shot out from either side of the chair as an old book was slammed shut and thrown to the floor. Slowly, almost comically, the wooden chair began to turn around and as the shadowy figure rose to his feet, looming over his younger brother, Dean laid eyes on the King of Gethmane for the first time.
King Axel Chalicein Faolin was terrifyingly handsome. Like a freshly risen corpse, he had the same porcelain skin as his brother and those same diabolical eyes, framed by dark, thick fans of lashes — pinpoint pupils and all. His hair was long, loose, hanging around his back and lower legs like a cloak of ebony silk and resting on top his head was a wicked gold laurel crown encrusted with rubies. His slender frame was hidden within a long ruby robe of velvet that trailed on the dusty floor as he approached the prince.
The reality hit Dean like a hammer blow to the skull: one misplaced word, one action out of line and this man would have his head on a silver plate.
"Six weeks you have been missing this time," the tall ghoul of a man scolded his brother, his complexion almost ghostly under the candlelight, "six weeks, Reiven! Do you have any inclination as to how utterly mortifying it is to attempt explaining your constant absences to the Generals?"
He was going to hit Reiven.
Or so Dean thought but as the tall phantom got within striking distance of his brother, he merely raised his bony ring-covered hands up in front of his face, making claw like gestures in frustration before swinging his arms back to his sides and retreating behind his desk once more. Reiven didn't even turn his head to acknowledge his brother's approach; instead, the crown prince kept his gaze straight ahead towards the chair.
A deep, bitter sigh bled from the king's lips like venom seeping from an open wound.
"Messenger after messenger I send with lies about you being bed-ridden with a non-existent illness. Hogwash, all of it! Do you know that the people of Lurmanta have sent you their only three Sicarian rose bushes in the hopes it would help you recover?" A dull thud pounded out into the room as threw himself into the chair and slammed his bejewelled hands on the lacquered wooden desk. "What if those people end up needing the salves? You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Axel, my dear brother," Reiven leaned further across the table, "may I gently remind you that tis not I who fills their ears with fairy-tales and deceitful stories."
"And what am I to do then?" The older man hissed. "Send word that our beloved crown prince has grown bored of his country and wishes to rush off into enemy territory? You even enter my chambers unannounced with two...two miscreants! Two churls! That one," a gnarly finger pointed straight at Dean's nose-ring, "should be tied up outside with the horses if he wishes to present like the beasts! By right, Reiven, I should have had you jailed for treason long ago..."
"Treason?" A choked, stifled laugh escapes the prince's throat as he steps back from the table. He turned his back to the king and both Dean and Jak watched as he opened his mouth to say something but whatever it was, the Black Wolf seemingly thought the better of it.
He closed his thick lashes for a moment, visibly exhaling before calmly crossing his arms behind his back.
"I understand why you get upset when I leave. I truly do," he stated quietly, his voice almost monotonous. "Might I make a request, however?" All three other men's eyes now firmly fixed on the crown prince. "Those two...churls you spoke of... Yes, indeed, those two harvesters," Axel's dark eyes focused on Dean as Reiven emphasised their work. His gaze was intense, uncomfortable, but Dean had expected no less if he'd ever ran into a royal. After all, he was from an alien world in their eyes.
"These two harvesters were the ones who tracked me down. King's orders, after all. And here I am, standing before you. You know my desires for freedom cannot be caged and yet you have never given me my own personal bodyguards. Tis all well and good for you; the palace guards will protect you just fine. For me, tis not the case. I require protection." In one swift, feline movement, Reiven turned on his heel to face his brother once more.
The harvesters remained silent, merely observing the tense interaction between the two monarchs. Both of them were ethereally handsome, since lords plucked straight from the pages of the darkest fairy-tale. King Axel looked every part the monarch, with his elegant posture and velvet robes. Crown Prince Reiven, on the other hand, with his unkempt hair and tight jeans, didn't seem to care one whit about his title.
The king leaned back into his chair, placing both elbows on the desk. He clasped his skinny fingers in front of his face.
"Brother, you have no idea what you ask of me," he stated, sombrely, lowering his head in defeat. "You will not be tamed, it seems."
"I will never be tamed, I am afraid," Reiven states drily. "You should know this by now."
"Indeed and yet I keep telling myself you will change."
"You wanted my help to defuse the provinces, yes? Then in exchange, I request you elevate these two to be my personal guard. They already leave Gethmane monthly to hunt. Let me travel with them. They have not failed this nation once. They will not fail you now."
The king fell silent as he pondered his brother's words.
Dean cast his gaze to Jak without turning his head. The older man had his weight spread across his open legs, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, his spine straight and erect, head held high. Dean tried to mimic his stance.
"So," the deep voice of the king blossomed into the dim, half-cared for, half-neglected room, "you are both harvesters, yes?"
"Yes, Your Royal Majesty," Jak spoke quickly, straight to the point.
"I see. I must thank you both for your service, in that regard. Our nation would crumble without your crucial work."
"You are much too kind, Sire. Thank you for blessing us with your grace."
All this formality was making Dean cringe inside but he kept his facade up, arms straight at his sides like a soldier. He couldn't place his finger on why, but he didn't find Axel nearly as impressive as his younger brother. He couldn't tell if it was the difference in attitudes and demeanour between the two, or the way that Reiven seemed more...open, with the other people in the castle. Perhaps it was the stories he'd heard of Reiven being out on the battlefields while Axel had cowered in the castle?
Whatever it was, he was itching to get out of this room.
"Which one of you is the portal caster?"
"I am, Sire."
"I see. Your colleague there is the bait, yes?"
Dean could feel a bead of sweat forming on his brow hidden underneath his bleached hair.
"Indeed, Sire," Jak replied with a nod.
The king raised a hand and began idly rubbing at his neck and cheek. When he was done, he reached over and took hold of a stray piece of parchment, bringing it to rest in front of him.
"Very well. I will write this decree and ensure the castle guards all receive it. You will have free movement in this wing of the castle. However," the word comes out raspy, like a corpse clawing out of a grave, "I will warn you both now. My brother may trust you but I do not...yet. If any harm comes to him while under your supervision, I will rain hellfire upon both of you and everything you both hold dear."
That sweat-drop now made its way down Dean's forehead and nose, coming to rest precociously on the rim of his nose-ring as the king cleared his throat. He took one of the quills on his desk and began scribbling down on the parchment. As he got to work writing his looping letters and elegant marks, Reiven watched with interest.
"I am surprised you actually agreed to my proposal," the younger monarch murmured, "and you two," he turned his head in Dean's direction, giving the blond a coy smile, snowy fangs peeking out from bloody rose lips, "you can relax now."
Both harvesters did as they were told. Dean felt like a giant weight had been lifted as he finally let himself exhale. Jak, however, didn't seem too phased. Dean assumed he'd had more experience with the royals than Dean had ever dreamed of. After all, he was the one who'd received the orders to retrieve the wandering prince.
"You know my feelings and opinions on each of the Generals and yet, this time, I do agree with them," Reiven turned his full attention back to his older brother who had finished writing his graceful words and had now placed the parchment aside to let the ink dry.
"If only it were that simple, Reiven," he replied, raising his hands to remove his crown. He placed the gold headpiece on the table, raising his hands once more to rub at his temples.
"It is. Loosen the restrictions. Nightshade needs a higher ration allowance. You cannot expect the people to starve while you demand the same taxes from them."
"The riots are getting violent."
"Of course they are. You are punishing our people for their General's disrespect. Loosen the restrictions before the people of Bleak Hills turn their attention to Vankus. Injustice will always move men."
"And if I do such a thing, Viscanza and Lurmanta will not be pleased."
A pale arm raised across the table, coming to rest on the king's shoulder. Dean watched curiously. For someone who seemed to irritated with his brother earlier, Reiven had changed his tone quickly when it came to the people and their needs.
"Brother, let the Generals wallow in their displeasure," Reiven commanded softly. "If I may be so curt, they should never have been given preferential treatment in the first place. Clip their wings now before they take your apprehension as weakness and demand more of you. Besides," the crown prince lowered his voice almost to a whisper, but Jak and Dean still heard, "you are the king of this country. Do not let a pompous duke and an insolent viscount treat you like this." Reiven suddenly leapt up on to the desk, taking a seat across from his brother, crossing his legs. "They can be cut down and replaced. Mayhap you should subtly remind them of this in your next correspondence, no?"
*
"Well, day calls, my friends," Reiven finally moved from the desk and towards the two bored harvesters. They'd been waiting for...well, both had given up guessing what time it was. The smaller vampire approached them both, placing a hand on each of their backs to gently guide them out of the king's chambers. No farewells were exchanged between the trio and the king, although Reiven made sure to remind his brother to get the bodyguard decree to the right people to ensure his new friends had free travel in the castle.
"Your first job as my bodyguards can be escorting me to my chambers," the prince informed them with a chuckle. "Not that I need an escort but you may as well find out where my chambers are."
As they left the king's chambers, Reiven led them across the hall to a set of glass doors directly adjacent. The passed through them and were met by a similar set of large wooden doors.
"This is where you will most likely find me if you are ever in need," the crown prince explained. "I only ask that you knock." He smiled deeply at both of them, nodding slightly, "I believe we have dinner to harvest, do we not? After all, your mission tonight was a colossal failure." A soft, velvety laugh bled into the hallway as the prince squinted in the morning sun. "Well, my new friends, I must bid you both adieu and rest for the day. Do rest up yourselves - after all, we have a hunt to continue." With that, he took both men by surprise, bowing low to them both.
They returned the gesture, albeit in confusion.
As they bid their farewells and Reiven opened the old wooden doors, the men started off down the corridor. He suddenly stopped. "Oh, and one more thing... Actually, two more things!" Both men stopped as the doors closed with a loud thud. Reiven came running after them. "You will need this."
He reached up, unclipping the necklace he'd used earlier to open the door. Glancing at both Jak and Dean, he finally settled on Dean. In one swift movement, he wrapped his hands around the Abermijahn's neck and secured the necklace around his skin. As he'd moved in, Dean drank in that deep, dark cologne once more; the scent was still as strong as it had been in Coldwoods hours ago.
"Do not ever lose this," Reiven commanded, "after all, you will not enter here without it." As Dean nodded, raising a tattooed hand to hold the royal ring, he noticed Reiven struggling to keep his sanguine eyes open in the blazing sunlight.
"The second thing," he turned his attention to Jak this time. "Do not ever try to use a portal to enter here. You may enter any part of the castle with the portals but never the great chambers. Do you understand?"
Jak stared down at the smaller vampire.
"Your Royal Highness, I-"
Reiven's eyes focused back on Dean for a moment.
"You asked earlier why there are no guards on this floor," Reiven stated, "we do have guards but they are..." His gaze returned to the taller man. "Please, do not ever attempt to enter with a portal. Always come the way we came earlier."
Both men nodded and as the prince sighed with relief and bounded back to his chambers, both of them gaze each other a look of surprise.
"Well, none of that was expected," Jak admitted, raising his eyebrows for a moment. "Jak McArthur and Dean Adams: the crown prince's royal guard, eh? Does have a nice ring to it."
"I have no fucking idea what's even going on."
"Yeah, you and me both. Never been up here before. Got the orders to retrieve His Royal Highness from his lord-in-waiting."
"You've never met the king?"
"Nope."
Dean turned on his heel, scuffing his boots on the marble flooring as he started off towards the main entrance. "Well, whatever. All I know is: I need a nap and a good strong drink. You joining?"
