But! I’ve not read The adventures of Charls the Veretian cloth merchant yet (just excerpts here on tumblr):<So here is the deal: if you buy me an e-book (at the moment I don’t have a convenient way of purchasing it) I’ll draw you your favourite character from Captive Prince^^ sooooooo anyone interested? (write me a pm)
“I was the oldest,” the prince said, “and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone.”
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“I am the oldest,” the prince said, “and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. When the raven arrived with word that my mother had been brought to bed a month too soon, I was old enough to understand that meant the child would not live. Even when Lord Gargalen told me that I had a sister, I assured him that she must shortly die. Yet she lived, by the Mother’s mercy. And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking. I was a man grown when they were playing in these pools. Yet here I sit, and they are gone.” (A Feast for Crows)
Summary: Sometimes a normal life is a good one to lead; its nice…its easy… But sometimes, normal isn’t the way that things were meant to be. And when you’re chosen as a possible candidate for one of the kingdom’s 7 princes, life isn’t as nice and easy as you always presumed it to be…especially when you catch the eye of more than one of them…
You’re excitedly bouncing in place next to Hoseok half an
hour later, having changed clothes as quickly as you could, before running back
to meet him in exactly the same place, frowning in confusion when you realise
he’d already changed, but smiling at him none the less when he reaches his hand
out for you to hold, before beginning to pull you down the gravel path that,
when taken to the right, lead to the stables.
As soon as you catch sight of the first glistening black
stallion you feel your breath escape your lungs, your astonishment bringing
Hoseok to a stand still, and you can see in your peripheral vision the way he
feels you slow; turning to see what was wrong and widening his eyes worriedly
before he sees your expression of wonder.
‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ he asks, smiling fondly at you and
chuckling when you nod dumbfoundedly.
‘Which one would you like to ride?’ he asks, gesturing around
to the stables set out in a sort of hexagon, a number of horses stood outside
being tended to. But its only when you see the beautiful dapple black mare
shuffling agitatedly to one corner of the stables, trying to get the attention
of one of the hands helping out with another horse, that you know exactly which
one was perfect for you.
‘Am I allowed to ride that one?’ you ask Hoseok quietly,
gesturing to the horse, and looking up at him to see him squinting his eyes
slightly, almost as if he was judging your choice in a bad way, before he looks
back at you and leans down suddenly to drop a kiss to the edge of your mouth-
the move seeming as though he’d changed his mind at the last minute- having
originally been aiming for your mouth.
Lance looked up at the sky, small, cold droplets showered down on his face, hitting hard like glass pellets on soft skin. A storm was brewing. Literally and metaphorically.
Lance felt it, knew something was going to happen. Something big, but he wasn’t too sure if it was good or bad. He just hoped for the best, currently the best would be to go home.
He knew it was within his grasp, close enough he could taste it. But now there was a huge obstacle before him- hindering his return- in the form of the billowing clouds rolling in ominously. The storm’s dark head seemed to growl warningly at Lance and Lance shivered at the threat. Lance knew it was silly, but he couldn’t see this as anything but a test. Maybe a test of courage, maybe of bravery, maybe of worthiness. But to Lance this was a test, it was simple, if he passed he could go home. If he didn’t….. well Lance didn’t want to think of that.
Lance watched cautiously as the clouds grew thicker and the rain grew heavier. The wind harsher. He ducked his head under the water of his tank as his face grew numb from the cold. He looked around in slight concern. The two humans were making sure everything was proofed before they hid in the bottom. Lance wasn’t sure what to do, he might lose them if he went into the ocean but he also might get hurt if he stayed aboard.
He knew the best option was to leave and try find the ship once the storm passed, but he didn’t want to think of what would happen if he once again got lost. But… for his own safety, for his own life he’d have to. There really was no other option. So, with his heart heavy Lance slipped out of the tank, pausing for a moment, contemplating if he should wait and tell the others his plan but the flash of lightening and the all too familiar rumbling that never failed to strike fear in Lance had Lance high tailing it off of the boat and into the water.
He swam down, looking for a place to take shelter close to the ship. In the distance Lance could make out the blurry dark hole that a cave usually barred and swam closer to get a better look.
But, before he could think of it logically a chill ran down Lance’s spine and Lance felt his muscles contract on their own, forcing him into the cave a few meters away in hiding. He swam into the darkness with not a moment of hesitation, his blue eyes illuminated in the dark shade of the cave and Lance looked around at the walls, rocks.
Thats all there was, rocks. The dark walls receded backwards before coming to an end with gagged rocks sticking out of the walls, the cave left Lance feeling cold, but it was better than the fear he felt while out in the open. During a storm…
Lance peered outwards at the vast ocean flooring, shivering as a looming shadow passed by, the creator somewhere out of his vision, Lance didn’t want to know what the source was. Too frightened to pop his head out Lance reversed further back into the cave, trailing along the protruding rock walls in search of anything that could aid his stay.
There was nothing except the random littering of shells that wouldn’t be of much help to Lance, he’d just have to go a cold, hungry night tonight. In the morning Lance would try his luck with going back out but with the roaming shadow Lance didn’t want to risk it, not yet. So, he hunkered down next to the back cave wall and lay on the floor, getting comfortable in the fetal position to keep warmth. He tried to sleep to pass the time, but with his nerves and adrenaline at a high Lance found it difficult to even sit still.
Lance sighed and stood back up, he swam to the entrance and once again peered out, a smaller shadow from before seemed to be frantically zooming around in search of amnesty. Lance prayed that, whatever it was, it didn’t spot the cave, Lance’s only safe place.
Unfortunately for Lance fate seemed to be pitted against him as the figure immediately began to swim to the cave. In a panic Lance squeezed himself into the furthest corner of the cave and tried to blend in with the wall as much as possible. With a noisy entrance the… merperson?… banged to the ground with a sickening crunch.
“Oof,” The person groaned and sat up, rubbing at its arm in pain. Lance went unnoticed.
The… thing… was unlike anything Lance had ever seen before, long white hair, an oddity in itself, swept the persons back delicately. It had a large tail, bigger than any he’d ever seen before, a majestic black with a purple sheen that had Lance entranced. The most stark thing that put him and Lance in difference was the skin tone, while Lances was a lovely dark creamy colour this persons skin was a rich purple. It reminded Lance of the purple coral bed that he and Hunk loved to swim along as children, a place long since forgotten, their hidden hide out.
The thing looked back out of the cave and sighed an apathetic chime, an unnoticeable sign of relief washing over their face. Lance grew curious at the show of emotion, or lack there of, peering closer at the persons face, high cheekbones, sharp jaw. Handsome. The person sluggishly glanced around the cave, eyes piercing the darkness and Lance shrunk into it even further, trying to vanish from the raw power omitted from the being.
“Seems I have company,” The voice reverberated through Lance and his lips betrayed him, a low sigh making its way out and Lance squeaked, bringing his hands to cover his mouth. “I hope it is fine of me to seek refuge in your cave but if you don’t mind could you reveal yourself?” The stranger demanded in a commanding voice and Lance shrivelled in fear at the pure pheromone the person excreted.
Obediently Lance swam out, a moment of silence passed between them as they stared at each other. Spluttering, Lance panicked.
“What are you?” Lance found himself unable to keep the question to himself. Blanching as the blunt question filled the tense silence. Yet they merely chuckled. Unfazed.
“I am Prince Lotor, of the Galran tribe,” The person, Lotor, elegantly yet sharply stated. Lance glanced at the bag in Lotor’s hand, wondering its contents. “I am currently in search of my squadron but have been forced to find shelter. I hope you do not mind me staying.”
Lance shook his head and sighed, swimming closer to Lotor. “I’m only here for shelter too, I just hope the storm’ll pass soon enough.”
“In a hurry?” Lotor asked and Lance paused, unsure both of the question and the answer.
“Yes.” Lance simply stated after a short hesitation, not wanting to elaborate Lance asked a question. “What is the Galran tribe? I have never heard of your people before, are you a secluded tribe?”
Lotor looked at Lance with an unplaceable emotion, as if searching him. “We Galran are wide spread, situated all across the globe.”
Lance frowned in disbelief.
“What of you? What tribe are you of?” Lotor asked and Lance hummed.
“My tribe is very small, consisting of not even 300 people. We are an ancient people and go by many names, our most common name is Altaea.” At the name Lotors face transformed into something akin to a pleasant surprise.
“Quite intriguing,” Lotor sat down his bag against the cave wall. “What of your name?”
“Oh, I’m Lance, a Paladin of my people.” A menacing looked covered Lotors face but it vanished as soon as it came, leaving Lance to believe he simply imagined it.
“Paladin.” Lotor tested along his mouth and Lance shivered, knowing it wasn’t a question.
There was something unsettling about Lotor, a glint in his eyes that spoke of thousands of mistruths, thousands of hidden motives. Lance, in this moment, wanted nothing more than to leave, be out of Lotors hollowing gaze.
Lotor watched as Lance instinctively moved away in minuscule movements. A wicked smirk lit Lotors face and Lance stumbled back once again.
Lotor began to make his advance. Lance could do nothing but brace himself for an attack, tensing his muscles in wait. Yet, all Lotor did was let out a breathy laugh, Lance felt the hot breath fan across his face.
“Seems the cavalry is here,” Lotor snickered and right then Lance heard the shouts of a few people outside. Lotor swam towards the cave entrance, swooping up his bag. He sent one last look over his shoulder and laughed.