Privacy was truly going to become an issue, “perhaps the Goddess could be so kind to strike me down before anything else happens,” I prayed, but had no such luck. 

A few days had passed and classes begun, but nothing could break the tension growing between Isaiah and I. He did not say anything else about it, but I knew he must have had questions. It is not normal after all, to see your roommate in an all-boys school wearing women's underwear. I know what you are thinking, “why were you wearing women's underwear?” To which I say, no, I was not, I was wearing my underwear, I bought them so they are mine. Still, my face maintained a consistent shade of crimson red whenever he and I were alone. He said nothing to me, though it was his silence that spoke louder than a thousand words. 

Classes, yes I should focus on those, surely that will alleviate my suffering, I thought. The first class was national history with a focus on the Shepherd Treaty. It was this Treaty that made my great grandfather so famous. A bloody war waged between our nation and the neighboring nations of Klishae and Ensertanam. The conflict had lasted generations, over a hundred years the three powers fought ceaselessly. It was not until Aiden Bonedarte the Second, my great grandfather, took the throne and proposed peace under the moderation of a third party, the Royal Shepherds, that the war met its end. This theocratic party would go on to act as mediators, advisers, and parliament for all three nations, finding a compromise to our problems and distributing resources “fairly” between us all.

So of course, I had no interest in listening to our professor's lecture on a history I was already well-versed in. Instead, my mind wandered to the contents of my chest, and how I longed for the day I would have privacy again to wear that beautiful garment. That day would have to wait, as it was only the first day of the week, and I was in no hurry to have Isaiah walk in on a second compromising situation. As I drifted into daydream my eyes, or should I say eye, scanned the room around me mindlessly till it settled on Isaiah. His gaze met mine before we both darted our heads in opposite directions. 

We needed to end this silly awkwardness. I simply had to tell him he was mistaken, that he did not see what he had thought he saw. Gaslighting is wrong, but this was an emergency situation, my own dignity was on the line after all. I did not know this boy, and I could not have him going and spreading rumors that the prince wore women's underwear. Which again, need I remind you is not true, I wear my own underwear, so that makes it boys' underwear. So, I decided that after class I would speak with him in private. 

The bell rang, ending the boring lecture, and so we were off to our next class. Snaking around the other students, I made my way out the lecture hall, lingering back around the door and waited for the boy. The wait was rather lengthy, as the professor held him after class to nag him about "needing to be compliant with school uniform policies," as it would turn out, the way he cropped his undershirt and wore his jacket unbuttoned was a violation of school dress code. The professor continued to harp on the boy, a real pity seeing as I found his offbeat style to be actually quite nice.

I imagined for a moment while I stood there waiting, what I could possibly do to make the uniform feel less restrictive, conforming, and… well less masculine. Surely there was a way I could feel cute even when confined to such boring boyish attire. My daydreaming only lasted till Isaiah finally stepped past the classroom doors' threshold. 

“Isaiah,” I said, placing my hand in front of him, “might I speak with you a moment in private?”

“Uh, yea sure thing,” he sounded confused as though caught off guard, but willing to hear me out, which was certainly a good sign.

“Thank you,” we walked together down the hall, and turned a corner and then again around another, till we found a secluded area of the school where we could speak. “Isaiah, I know what you thought you saw, but please I assure you that it is not what you think it is,” I began with no hesitation.

“Hey, don’t worry bout it, I’m sure that kinda mix up happens all the time right? Your maid just gave ya your sister's underwear when she did the washin and you just had to wear it cause it was all you packed. Simple mistake right?” His own understandings were a far greater lie than my own fabrication of the truth. 

“Yes, yes exactly, I am glad you understand,” the weight on my shoulders lifted and it felt as though I could breath normally for the first time in the past few days. 

“Yea, yea, of course,” he laughed nervously, “you don’t gotta worry bout me blabbin to anyone about this either, okay? So just relax your highne… Aiden?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose you can call me by my first name. To be rather honest with you I do not think I want anyone calling me ‘your highness’ or ‘his majesty’, least of all not the boy I am to share a room with.”

“That’s a relief, cause like damn I don’t think I can be that formal for too long,” were you ever being formal? I thought to myself as he relaxed his posture. “Yea, no, like don’t mean to disrespect you, well technically, but I aint exactly a fan of royal types if you didn’t already kinda get that impression.”

“I see, I suppose that is the expected opinion among the common folk,” I sighed.

“Common folk? Ya know, talkin down to people like that is kinda one of the reasons I hate royals.”

“Oh, yes, I am sorry, I do not mean that you are lesser if that is what you think. No, I simply meant you are of lower status than I…” I had to learn how to chose more words more carefully...

“Screw your status, my worth is more than some silly title that you were born into!” without another word he stomped off.

Breathing felt harder again, my time in this school would not be easy I could already tell. A knot began to tighten in my tummy, a part of me thinking I should pursue him and apologize. A greater part of me, the stronger part of me, retreated back into solitude, cursing myself for having allowed things to go so poorly. 

 

***

The Second day of classes was halfway through, and Isaiah had not spoken to me since the previous day's conversation. Whereas before we had just had awkward moments in passing, this day I was treated by absolute silence. Coldness was all he had for me as I tried to greet him in the morning, and even more coldness awaited as the day went by. I had to remedy this, I could not bare to go my entire school year being ignored or hated by him, my brain would not let me forget it.

Honestly, I did not want to think about it, or him, but no matter how I tried to distract myself I could not help but replay the incident in my mind. My words continued to come across cold and callus with each interaction, but why? Did I unconsciously wish to make an enemy of my roommate? No, of course I did not. So then how could I speak to him without upsetting him? I fealt as though nothing I said to him differed from how my sisters spoke to me, so then was I to believe that their words were meant in spite? 

Not wishing to spend a moment more flooded in my anxiety, I peered at my schedule and anxiously looked forward to my next class, fencing. Homeroom ended and I practically glided the whole way to the gymnasium. Casting aside my bag into a locker, I donned my fencing mask and padded uniform, and gladly brandished the foil in my hand. For our first day we were to spar in a bout of three with a partner chosen at random and demonstrate our skills before being placed in the class that best matched our level of mastery.    

I stood before my opponent, assuming my stance, he took his own, raising his blade in an unorthodox pose. I ignored his folly, and made my advance, though I was thrown off as he lept with a sudden balestra towards me. He struck my blade with a bib, and then swung for my head. I avoided the attack and made a lunge towards his abdomen. He made a circular parry, and countered with a riposte. I riposted his attack, only for him to counter-riposte me, nearly forcing me to drop my blade. My aid fingers regained their grip of the sword, and I managed to push back his assault. Again I lunged my blade, and again he attempted a circular parry, this time however I managed to pull through with a double, successfully landing a hit through his defense. 

“One for Prince Bonedarte,” a referee called, and I could not help but grin. Cockiness got the best of me, as his blade made contact with a sudden strike.

“Direct, that is one for Sir Snowdrop,” the referee called and I could not help but feel I recognised that name.  

My Opponent advanced at me again, his sword arm moving fast and fierce. My eye could hardly follow its movement, but I had learned to fence with more senses than simply sight alone. I avoided his thrust, ducked under a swing, feeling the air move past me as he swung wildly about. I found myself attuned to the cadence of the fight, one with the rhythm of our battle, he was not going to strike me again. Two consecutive lunges,twice parried, he was starting to slow down, or perhaps it was just my imagination. I countered with a riposte, and he went to pary, but it was a feint. As his blade went up to block mine, I reversed my strike and came at him from below. 

“Two for Prince Bonedarte,” the referee announced as my saber struck the boy's stomach.

I rose my arm, ready again on guard, stamped my foot down in a appel, and advanced. I beat his saber, then lunged into his chest. I thought I made contact, but suddenly he was beside me, our bodies touching.

“Corpse a Corpse, step back” The referee called.

“Tch,” the boy clicked his tongue and backed off, never standing on guard. Once in position he twisted his body, breaking the fencing lines and brought himself around my flank. He managed a one-two attack that got past my parry.

“Two for Sir Snowdrop,” the ref called.

This boy was something else. His movements were untrained, undisciplined, yet not unskilled. I had never faced an opponent like this, it was like fencing a wild animal rather than a boy. He stayed in close quarters never backing off, his attacks were not aimed, they simply went where they needed to go. He was not human. Or perhaps I was just excited to have such a skilled opponent. Sir Snowdrop, whoever you are, you have given me an exhilarating fight I will always remember, I thought to myself with a smirk. 

He lunged at me, and I deflected with a circular parry, not expecting he too would attempt the same. Soon both our swords were caught in what felt like a vortex of our own creation, as we fought to wrestle the blade from the other hand from the spinning of our wrists. Was this now a battle of will, who would hold tight to the sword the longest, or a battle of endurance to see whose grip would give out first. No, it was a struggle to predict his next move, to find the cadence of the fight once more and know what he was planning. Our blades swirled, till at last he broke through with a lung, overpowering me. But, I did not falter. I leaned my body, avoiding his thrust, and stepped around him as he fell forward into his own attack. Without hesitation I turned my wrist and struck down on him, ending the match with one final hit.

“Three for Prince Bonedarte!” The referee called and our match was over.

“You were pretty good, Sir Snowdrop,” I said, removing my mask.

“You fought like hell Prince Bonon, guess I didn’t expect that,” Isaiah said, removing his own mask.

“What? You were my opponent?” Of course, his name was literally sprawled across my bedroom door, how could I be so stupid? Isaiah Snowdrop.

“Guess you’re more than just a stuffy lil prince after all, huh? Got some skill to back up that attitude of yours.” 

“And I suppose you are more than just a simple common boy,” I smiled at him.

“Yea, I’m not a common boy at all,” he grumbled.

“No, I did not mean,” I tried to apologize.

“Nah, forget it, I’m outta here…” he cut me off and left.

“Sir Snowdrop, class is not dismissed yet,” the instructor called after him, but Isaiah did not seem to care.

The rest of the day passed without anything particularly special occurring, till once again we were in our room. Lying in my top bunk, I could not help but to wish it was the next day so I could finally have my privacy. A rather loud listful sigh escaped my lips, but thankfully Isaiah continued to ignore me. Curious as to what he could be so engrossed in, I peaked over the edge of my bed and peered down at what he was doing.

He leaned over the writing desk with some pencils and a pad and seemed to be scribbling furiously as if possessed by a demon of art. “Oh, so you draw?” I spoke without even realizing the words were coming out of my mouth.

This caught his attention, as his posture suddenly changed to that of a stiff board, hitting his knee on the desk while sitting himself up.

“Oh my, are you alright? That sounded like it hurt.”

“Yea, I’m okay…” he sighed, rubbing his sore knee. 

“Sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” I apologized, “I had seen you drawing and curiosity got the best of me.”

“Curiosity killed the cat didn’t it?” he quipped, “but yea, I guess you can call me an artist of sorts.”

I slipped down my ladder to join him, tentatively asking, “could I perhaps see your drawings?”

Cheeks red and his eye avoiding mine he hummed and hawed a moment while thinking it over, then nodded as he came to a decision, “yea, I guess that’d be okay.” He flipped the pages back to the beginning and began to share his art with me. It contained mostly pencil sketches, the subject of which seemed to become more consistent as the pages went on. At first they were random doodles, but before long there was a girl. He drew her quite a lot, ten of the thirteen pages he shared with me were filled with different pictures of her. She was cute, sporty, perhaps what you would call tomboyish. She had an unorthodox haircut and dressed like one of those musicians you would hear singing about ‘breaking the establishment’ and other such topics. Despite this, she was still undeniably girly, and perhaps just a little bit familiar. Her face and hair reminded me of someone, but I could not think of who, I could only ponder her identity. Perhaps she was a friend of his? A crush? A lover? A favorite character from tv? Or maybe something simpler than all that, she could have been his sister. In fact, I began to notice a striking resemblance to Isaiah. This girl certainly had shared features with the boy. 

After another few pages he ended on his current drawing, the one whose creation I had just interrupted. It was the girl again, this time with another girl. Though incomplete, I could tell she was meant to be regal, a royal for sure. I had wished that he had finished the drawing, so I could see it in full detail, but what I could see of it was very pretty. She had two long braids in the front and a cute pixie bob in the back. The only other details I could make out of the unfinished sketch was the simple shape of her gown and what appeared to be an eyepatch over her right eye.  

“So, who are these girls?” I inquired.

“No one!” He quickly slammed the sketchpad shut and spun his back to me. A rather odd reaction to such a simple question.

“Oh, I am sorry,  did I upset you?”

“No, it’s not that, I just…” he rocked side to side as he spoke with his back still turned to me, “hey so like you’re really good at fencin, but you got any other hidden talents?”

“Hidden talents?” I placed a finger on my lower lip as I pondered his question, “I am not too sure, to be fully honest.”

“What about hobbies? You probably had lotsa things to do for fun livin in that big castle,” he asked, still not looking at me.

“I suppose I like to read, though when my father discovered the books in my collection he was not too happy,” I admitted more than I should have, as this immediately drew an interrogation from Isaiah.

“What kinda books you readin that would upset the king?” he had a snide grin on his face as he turned around to face me.

“That is my own business, I would rather not say,” now I was the one turning my face away.

“Oooh? You sure we talkin about books and not some kinda naughty mags?” he taunted.

“No, of course not! They were simply novels of a specific genre that my father was not so fond of,” I defended myself, my cheeks heating up.

“Come on, tell me, not like I’m gonna go blabbin to everyone that you like smutt novels~” 

“It is not smut, they are…” it was a calculated risk, but I had to take it, telling him the truth was probably not as bad as the rumors he could have spread with his current misunderstanding, “romance novels… that is all.”

“So your old man just doesn’t like love stories? That’s kinda odd,” he wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue.

“Well, they were of an unconventional sort of romance, one the church might not approve of.”

His face broke into an extra wide smile and he narrowed his eyes, “oh you’re into that kinda stuff are you? Lemme guess, quiet reserved good boy meets rough roguish bad boy?”

“No no no, it’s not that!” I shook my head fervently as my cheeks grew hotter and hotter, “I actually prefer girls love novels.” I was a pure cherry red now.

“Oh hey, yea girls love books are pretty cute,” I stared at him in disbelief as he began to list some of his own favorites in the genre, “When Ash turns to fairy dust is really good, oh and love the WQG trilogy, then there’s that one about the group of delinquent girls who fall in love after their boyfriends turned out to be scummy cheaters.”

“You also read girls love novels?” 

“Yea duh, if I’m gonna read somethin it’s gotta be about lesbian witches or vampire girls or somethin like that,” he answered nonchalantly. “Which one’s your fave?”

“When Ash turns to Fairy Dust is my favorite, actually.” 

“Oh yea? That one is pretty cute. Though lotsa people like to argue it doesn’t belong in the gl category cause the mc starts off a boy,” he clicked his tongue, “like why the hell would that matter? She ends the story as a girl, and so they are both girls. I'll die on this hill, but it’s absolutely gl.”

“Yes, I agree completely!” my eyes widened and I could not help but to smile brightly as we talked about my favorite book.

“Through the whole book it’s obvious that she’s gonna ask to be transformed into a girl, and like she just acts so girly, honestly she just never feels like a boy while your readin it! If they didn’t constantly remind you ‘but I was a boy’ you’d forget she wasn’t born a girl.”

“Yes, yes, that is exactly how I feel!” caught up in the excitement I almost did not notice how my words could be interpreted, then in a brief moment of clarity I corrected myself, “I mean, that I feel the same way about the story. It is certainly a girl's love novel.”

“Glad someone agrees with me,” Isaiah chuckled, “crazy tho, I’d have never pegged ya as a gl fan.” He brushed his bangs out of his face, his bracelet stud catching on a strand of hair and tugging slightly.

"Oh, let me help you," I grabbed his wrist softly and cautiously pulled the snagged hair free. “I suppose I could say the same for you, Isaiah,” I smiled at him and he smiled back at me.

“So then, you probably had access to tons of books, got any good reads you can recommend?”

I took a deep breath, brimming with excitement, then spent the next few hours discussing various girls' love novels with him. We gave each other recommendations, we discussed theories for stories, we debated about the best pairings, and before we knew it the morning sun had begun to rise. 

“Craaaap, suns startin to come up, they’re gonna do morning roll call in like a couple hours…” Isaiah said with a long yawn.

“Perhaps we should try and get a little sleep then, it would be better than being completely deprived of rest,” I suggested as I began to climb back into my own bed.

“Aight, sounds good to me. Good night Bonbon.”

“Bonbon?”

“Oh, yea you know, cause you're Prince Bonedarte, so like Bon… I don’t know, I thought it was a good nickname for ya.”

“Bonbon, Bonbon, hmmm…. It is a cute name,” I thought, “okay, I like it.”

“Sweet, then yea, good night Bonbon~”

“Good night, Isaiah.”