Ardaik 8th - Central Ocean

Rowan was certainly not who Sebastien had expected to see upon opening the door to the cabin he and Kenton had been allotted. While it was too dark in the hall to see Sebastien's face, his voice clearly conveyed his surprise. "De Saint-Pierre, what are you doing here? Did you not board the Retribution? Where is his highness?" he asked, pulling his coat closed as he stood in the threshold, backlit.  

"I believe I have something far more pressing to discuss with you."

Sebastien scoffed. "More pressing?" He scrunched his nose, looking as though he was going to say more before he caught sight of the Serellian woman. "Come inside. She may wait there."

"No, I don't believe she will, as she's my accomplice and insurance that everything remains...civil." Rowan's tone nearly mirrored Sebastien's condescension as he passed by him into the room with Edna trailing behind.

The more Rowan spoke, the more Lorellian he seemed by the moment, and the more Edna was regretting her decision to help him. The little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her to just leave now and get back to Flann before something terrible happened. Yet there was still part of her that believed by staying, she would gather enough threads to somehow ensure the Serellian prince's safe return home.

"Accomplice?" The alarm in Sebastien's voice startled the dozing Kenton into an upright position on one of the narrow cots shoved against one wall of the claustrophobic room. "What have you done, De Saint-Pierre? Where is Artus?"

"He's alive..." Rowan tossed back nonchalantly. "However, I believe I have something that's of greater importance." Rowan pulled the relic from his pocket. "You need it to halt the dragon's attack on La'Trest. Be the hero...and leave Artus to me."

***

"...I'd welcome you."

Those three words were all that it'd taken to pull the lounging Serellian from his hammock and back onto his feet as if Artus had severed the only rope holding a boat to the dock, and now Flann was finally free to wander where he pleased without the worry of seeming impolite.

The foreign prince approached him, and Artus could feel the air between them change instantly. But for how imposing a figure Flann made, when Artus tilted his head up to find Flann's eyes, they were still just as playful and carefree as always, accompanied by a small smirk.

Flann leaned in slowly and purposefully as if giving Artus more time to change his mind before their lips connected, and he was damned forever.

The press of Flann's mouth against his own wasn't at all like the tentative kisses Artus had shared with Rowan. There was a clear assertiveness to the act that neither he nor Rowan could have possibly ever feigned. They lacked confidence or courage, whereas Flann had experience and cultural differences on his side. Artus's arms did guide Flann's around his middle, though, and the Serellian had no trouble at all encircling Artus's narrow waist.

When Flann pulled back, there was a distinctly mischievous look in his green eyes. He stooped down, letting his hold drop from Artus's waist to his thighs and lifting the other prince up and over his shoulder in a move that was so swift and smooth, Artus was sure this wasn't the first time that Flann had done something similar. He appeared to be quite pleased with Artus's surprised yelp as he carried him toward the bunk.

***

Kenton climbed out of the cot, snagging his scabbard as he did. "Stay yourself, Kenton," Sebastien commanded. "I want to hear what the young lord believes he's up to." The tension in the advisor's face and neck dissolved, his expression becoming unreadable. "Explain yourself further, and I may yet consider your attempts at bargaining."

While Rowan had remained rather calm when faced with Kenton, Edna could feel her entire body tense. Not because she feared getting into a scuffle with the other guard—in fact, she'd rather enjoy that, given all the snide comments he'd made to her—but mostly because she wasn't sure she should be defending Rowan at all.

Rowan could feel all the gazes on him. He'd worked himself into a tight place. Showing his hand so early wasn't his favorite choice, but the risk was worth the reward. Now all he needed to do was make his lie believable. There needed to be just enough truth that Sebastien and Kenton would buy into it at least a little.

"You take the relic back to La'Trest, dispense of the dragon... Artus disappears, lost at sea. You get to be the hero and retain your brilliant political standing with no direct heir to the throne, and Artus gets to start his new life as a normal, impoverished sailor."

"Impoverished—have you gone mad?" Kenton asked plainly. "What spurred you to carry out such a jest?"

"I believe he's quite serious," Sebastien replied in a flat tone.

Kenton let out a stunned huff. "An impoverished sailor, though?"

The smallest hint of a smile appeared in the corner of Sebastien's mouth. "Yes, that part is quite puzzling, isn't it? Why in the name of every saint would his highness want that?"

It was then that Kenton suddenly shifted his weight, taking a step closer to Rowan. He didn't look amused or confused anymore, and his voice was low as he spoke. "If you're leveraging his highness's passing affection for you as an opportunity to dethrone the Viottos, I'll see that your treacherous head leaves this room independently of your body, De Saint-Pierre."

***

Fitting them both on the bunk wasn't an easy task. Flann occupied most of it, which left Artus with a very small area that consisted mostly of being half draped over the Serellian's sturdy frame. It was far more comfortable than Artus had actually anticipated it being, although he couldn't see the door anymore—a realization that only increased the nervous flutter in his chest. One of his hands explored Flann's bare torso regardless, tracing over muscle and taught skin, relishing the thrill he got out of brushing his fingertips across the ridge of the Serellian's hip.

"This wasn't exactly what we agreed to," Artus noted, half trying to distract himself from the heat building below his waist as he occupied his free hand with one of Flann's. Observing and brushing his thumbpad over scars and calluses he'd not noticed before.

"Wasn't it?" Flann wondered, in some mild surprise; it was hard to decern if it was from sincere or purposeful forgetfulness. However, Artus's claim hadn't stopped his wandering touch or the enjoyment therein.

"You said if Rowan wasn't interested," Artus clarified, still clinging to the hope that Rowan was—that leaving him here alone with Flann hadn't been proof of anything other than a moment of poor judgment. And yet...as much as having the Serellian's attention like this frightened Artus, it excited him as well. He didn't want Flann to stop. "...It doesn't make sense that you should make me feel this way," Artus whispered, the emotion sitting heavy and unfamiliar in his throat.

"Oh, and what way is that?" Flann wondered informally. "An how would we know Row ain't interested unless we make him a wee-bit jealous?"

Artus sat up slightly, bracing himself on Flann's solid chest so that he could look at him more directly. Jealous? He hadn't considered it. The prospect of anyone finding out he'd allowed himself to be in such a compromised position with another man was terrifying enough. Artus bit his lower lip, refocusing on Flann's former question and how best to answer it. "Important...I suppose," he replied, but that description didn't seem to properly encapsulate it.

He was important. Artus knew this. He was the crown prince of the most powerful kingdom in Karus. Precious was perhaps a better word, or desirable, better still, but it felt far too silly to voice. He was virtually a stranger to Flann. Surely, his foolish heart was simply overreacting–overly receptive to receiving the kind of attention he'd so longed for from Rowan.  

"Oh, aye..." Flann replied in a soft, thoughtful tone, but he said nothing more than that. Instead, he seemed content to listen rather than ramble on, which was in stark contrast to the lively young man Artus was used to.

"I'm sorry. Don't mind anything I say," the Lorellian quickly rattled before leaning over Flann to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "I'm simply nervous," he admitted, fearful that he'd said something Flann wasn't pleased to hear.

"Hah. No need ta be sorry, Artie. If this is all ya feel comfortable with, then that's all we'll do." Flann's warm smile was followed by a gentle tussle of Artus's hair that smoothed into a tender caress of the Lorellian's jaw. "And if ya get adventurous, well then...I can accommodate that as well," he added with a wink.

***

Rowan's piercing blue eyes held on Kenton as he placed the relic back into his pocket. "The king and queen may already be dead...in that case, Artus would be king, and you'd be in a very compromised position for dispatching someone he has passing affections for."

"Watch your tongue, you–"

"Interesting," Sebastien interrupted. "And what do you gain from this if I do accept possession of the relic and return to La'Trest without his highness? I don't believe you to be a man foolish enough to do something so very altruistic. Why not return to La'Trest yourself? Surely, you wouldn't remain the mere inheritor of a baronship."

"If I thought I was clever enough to pull that off, I would..."

Sebastien drew in a breath before seemingly running a few scenarios through his mind. His eyes tracked as if reading some imaginary floating scroll before he returned his sharp stare to Rowan and displayed his thin palm. "Give it here, then."

As Rowan's hand dipped back into his pocket, he glanced at Edna; if anything were to go wrong, he suspected it would happen the moment that the relic was handed over. He needed her to be ready if that were the case. Without any hesitation, he placed the relic into the advisor's palm.

"I'll expect you to uphold your end of this deal, De Saint-Pierre," Sebastien stated, eyeing the relic shrewdly. "His highness is not ever to step foot in La'Trest again, and I'll consider you absolved of this theft."

Kenton lunged for the relic, sending Sebastien stumbling and yelping out a harsh swear as the small stone was flung. 

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down for Rowan as the relic arched through the air, carrying with it all the hopes of him and Artus ever escaping Lorellia.

His body felt sluggish and heavy, unable to move as fast as he willed it to, and the stone landed right in the glove of the female guard, who swiftly closed her fist around it and thrust her blade out to hold back Kenton at a distance.

The move was completely instinctual. The moment Edna realized what she held, she soon regretted getting involved at all as the three men stared at her.

Before she or anyone else could say a word, the entire ship lurched to the side as if caught by a massive wave and threw Edna and the others into the nearest wall. Her fingers lost their grip on the relic as she braced herself while the entire ship pitched in the other direction.

The relic hit the ground and rolled. Rowan was after it, his feet scrambling to stay under him. Sebastien was doubled over the cot holding his head, but Kenton was dashing for the tiny stone as it continued right out the door that had been dislodged in the commotion.

Down the hall, the two of them rushed and tousled, making every effort to nab the moving target while staving off the other.

Rowan's gaze fixed on the relic, leading the target with his gaze, just as he would have at archery practice, and then he grabbed it. It was so fast and effortless that it surprised even him. But in the awe and wonder of his achievement, he'd forgotten about Kenton. The next thing was the oddest feeling, cold and sharp but lacking the pain that he thought should've accompanied being stabbed. His grip let the relic fall in favor of holding his side where he'd been skewered by the blade as he slumped to his knees.

***

Desire fueled the kiss Artus gave Flann—emboldening his exploration as he positioned himself astride the Serellian's hips. 

Flann gave a soft hiss and shifted once Artus had settled his weight back down on him, as it became increasingly more difficult to avoid popping out of his own undergarments the more heated things became. And they were becoming heated. Flann had stripped down to next to nothing with how muggy the cabin felt before he and Artus had started to get more intimate, and now he felt like he was in a steam house. However, his discomfort was only marginal and easily forgotten between the lips of the other prince.

Breathless, Artus broke their kiss and sat up, tucking the dark waves that had escaped his hair tie behind his ears. "It's hot in here," he chuckled, despite himself. To think before, when he'd climbed out of this very bed to search the room, he'd been chilled.

The Serellian merely smirked in response, issuing an amused "aye" while pointedly giving Artus's long, billowy-sleeved shirt and his knee-length kickers a playful tug.

Just as Artus reached to pull off one of his stockings, a terrible bang, loud even to Artus, made him leap completely off Flann and onto the floor in a heap. The second he was on his feet, he wrapped his arms around himself in some instinctual attempt to appear more decent while he strained to listen, mind reeling.

***

Shock was still ringing in Rowan's ears, and he felt that he must be dreaming as the entire upper deck above him was suddenly torn away and skyward like a lid being drawn off a barrel. The only indication that it was reality playing out in front of him was the fact that Kenton had frozen as well. Blinding light only radiated through the hole for a moment before a giant black tail struck down through the ship's hull, cracking her in twain in a shower of splintered wood.

But there was still no sound, only the distance ringing and then the feeling of falling. Rowan expected to feel his body collide with something hard eventually, but instead, he just felt himself suddenly floating. Around him rigging, wood, bodies, and his own blood danced slowly in a peacefully eerie waltz in the black, illuminated only by the fires burning what was left of the ship above the surface; below him, nothing but the endless void of the black ocean depths.

As if by magic, something small and round and glowing drifted into view before him. The relic had come to him, as if on its own, like it wanted him to take it.

And he did.

The sudden surge of energy around him was like being caught in a tidepool, only instead of pulling down, the raw unnatural force was pulling him up with it—no, not with it, on it.

With a crash, he and the massive creature under him broke through the surface of the waves; the cold night air jolted his system, and an orchestra of sound returned.

Taking the lead was the sharp, chilling roar of the white dragon.