AN: Those of you who follow me may already know that I have this book for sale on Amazon. It's free with Kindle Unlimited (You can get a free trial for a month btw)

It did quite well there for the first year and even reached #1 in LGBT fantasy category! :D

This book holds such a special place in my heart, I can't even explain, and I wanted to share it with my wattpad readers because I adore you guys so much. Really. You guys make me so happy. I creep all of your pages...

Ahem.

Unfortunately as it's in Kindle Unlimited, I can only share a preview here.

Please enjoy my silly men.

This is a comedy, lgbt, fantasy, romance, adventure story. It's definitely not meant to be taken too seriously but I hope it can bring a few smiles to your face.

Love you guys!

Thanks for reading the authors note :)

~

The ocean wind was almost a relief, buffeting at Prince Nemir's back. He hated sailing, being away from solid ground, the earth and life that it sprouted and surrounded instead by icy, unending waters. Now, after two weeks straight on the small ship with only the crew and a few of his helpers for company, he was ready to kiss the Tasnian dock, simply for being there. Nemir watched the shore approaching in the distance, his stomach twisting with the finality of it.

The only benefit that Nemir could see of this whole situation was that he would be able to see his sister, Desada. If they had planned the trip properly, he could have at least enjoyed the trip across the ocean with her.

Instead, she had been sent to strengthen the friendship between the royal families only to send a letter home after a week insisting that she was bored and wanted to come home. Add to that Nemir's "lack of direction" and disinterest in "opening himself up to the experiences the world had to offer" and it was decided that he would be sent to join her.

He scowled, remembering the long-winded lecture from his father, his mother nodding in agreement behind him. Sadly, all of his whining and reasoning did nothing to change the fact that Nemir was now arriving on the Tasnian shore.

The ship slowed and then slowed some more and then finally, it came to a stop along the harbor.

"Ready to go?"

He turned to Eliseo. His man servant stood patiently at his side, but judging by the amusement in his eyes, Nemir could tell that his apprehension was clear to see.

Without a word, Nemir nodded and began the descent from the ship.

As his boots touched the Tasnian shore for the first time, Nemir was faced with the fact that he was away from his home country for the first time. Already he was noticing little things that put him on edge—like the fact that apparently every person in this country had yellow hair of varying shades and they were all tall and broad.

Nemir stood out like a sore thumb.

The Prince was there with the royal party, unmistakable in his gaudy attire, flags held up on either side of him.

Nemir swallowed.

Even the Prince, as he marched toward Nemir purposefully and confidently, was the complete opposite of the people Nemir had shared his life with so far.

Desada had insisted that he had a dark and stormy air about him but Nemir definitely couldn't see it.

He had light brown hair at darkest, more of a gold really, and he was even paler than Nemir was. Granted, he was tall and muscular and managed to look rather foreboding—and maybe a little dashing–in his chainmail. The storminess that his little sister had described however, seemed like more of a flair for the dramatics to Nemir.

As though sensing his train of thought, Prince Allard pulled the gloves from both of his hands as he marched forward. He dropped the leather and gold to the ground as though it was worthless.

Two of his men jumped at once to retrieve them.

Nemir had a suspicion that he wasn't going to like Tasnia very much.

He raised a dark brow as Prince Allard came to a stop before him, wondering why in heaven's name the prince had decided to greet him in armor anyway?

He bowed deeply.

"I apologize for making you wait," he said, lifting his head to look up at Nemir through his soft fringe as the ocean breeze tousled it. His eyes were incredibly blue.

"There's no need, I only just—"

He cut Nemir off by taking his hand into his own and kissing it.

Spluttering, Nemir stared at the prince.

He could feel his lips moving but no sound was coming out.

"I have heard many times of the beauty of the Suvlian people, first your sister, and now you, have thoroughly convinced me."

He smiled with a look in his eye that suddenly put Nemir's body into motion again.

He yanked his hand from the other man's grasp and slapped him harder than he'd ever hit anything in his life.

His hand stung immediately and as Prince Allard stumbled back, a hand touching the side of his face in shock, his men caught him. And Nemir belatedly remembered the most important part of all this; Prince Allard, displaying unseemly behavior or not, was still a prince.

He felt his indignation draining away and with a grimace, he watched him straighten and look at Nemir with an ill-concealed fire in his eyes. Nemir had always been quick to cover his emotions with anger and irritation, but this time he may have gone too far.

"I did not realize that it was the way of your people to treat your hosts in such a manner," Prince Allard spat.

Nemir shook his head, his mind racing.

"You misunderstand me," he said hastily. "In my country we only hit those who we are truly appreciative of."

Prince Allard eyed him narrowly.

"You don't do that here?" Nemir rushed on, glancing around at the many people on the port.

When all of Prince Allard's help simply stared at him with wide eyes and his own companions avoided eye contact, he cleared his throat loudly and shot a threatening look at Eliseo.

"It's true," Eliseo said uncomfortably. He dusted off his jacket, avoiding eye contact.

Nemir grimaced and pushed on.

"Highness," he said, striding forward. "It's been a long journey on unkind waters. I don't suppose we could continue this conversation indoors after a long rest?"

A trained propriety instantly took the other prince over.

"Of course," he said coming forward at once and offering his arm.

Nemir swallowed and slipped his fingers into the prince's elbow without arguing. Judging by the prince's ease touching Nemir and treating him more or less like he was a woman, it was safe to assume that men here didn't see things quite the same way they did in Suvahl.

Oh well. He just hoped that the little lie would last long enough for him to have a deep and undisturbed sleep in a warm, unmoving bed.

The thought almost made his mouth water.

Following a painfully awkward carriage ride, Nemir was escorted gratefully to a bed. He barely noticed anything around him, registering only trees passing from the window and eventually cobble stones beneath the wheels until he finally sank under warm covers on blessedly still ground.

He didn't care if he never set foot on a ship again.

***

Nemir woke with a violent sneeze.

He rubbed his nose furiously and snuggled back into the covers without opening his eyes. Almost at once, his nose began to tickle again.

He rubbed at it again until he heard a soft giggle. His eyes shot open.

"Desada!" he exclaimed.

His sister launched herself into his arms, tossing aside a suspiciously long feather, her mass of dark, curly hair nearly suffocating him.

"I've missed you!" she cried. "Let's never be apart again!"

"It's only been a month," Nemir said, hiding his pleased smile.

"Yes I know," she said. "But we've never been apart for so long."

She pulled back and laid down next to him, her small pouty lips in a frown.

"And it's dreadfully boring here," she whispered. "The women aren't allowed to do a thing. We simply sit around and chat all day."

Nemir frowned.

"Really?" he asked. "What about?"

"Absolutely nothing," she moaned.

His frown deepened. That seemed counterproductive, but from what he'd heard, Tasnia's culture was difficult for all but the locals to comprehend.

"Well don't worry," he said. "While I'm here, you won't be so bored at least."

"It's already better," she said, grinning impishly. "Especially since you've already started a commotion."

Nemir sat up.

"What commotion? I've only just arrived."

"Yes, and slapped the heir to the thrown already?" she asked.

He groaned.

"You heard about that?" he asked. "How?"

"I'm a lady," she said simply. "Here in Tasnia, the ladies have a way of knowing everything."

She bounced out of bed and pulled out a chair at the breakfast table and sat down.

"It's better known as gossip," she said, popping a strawberry into her mouth. "And Prince Allard seems to be the main source of it."

"Are they very angry?" Nemir asked.

"I don't think so, but everyone is shocked. No one goes against Prince Allard."

With a sigh, Nemir pulled himself grudgingly out of bed and sat down across from his sister.

She wrinkled her nose at his appearance and he shrugged.

"I was too tired to change," he said. Although right now the smell emanating from him seemed like more of an issue than his clothes. He tried not to breathe out of his nose and examined the food on the table.

The strawberries were about the only thing he recognized. There was a bowl of them accompanied by another of some sort of cream, and a small silver platter. Nemir lifted the lid, uncovering what looked like thin sheets of batter, loosely rolled and topped with more fruit and cream.

He frowned at the meal and lifted a small forkful to taste it. After nearly choking at the sweetness, he swallowed the food down with a long gulp of water.

He glanced up at Desada and found her giggling again.

"It does take some getting used to," she admitted, grabbing the fork out of his hand and cutting off a generous portion of the desert.

"I like it," she said, shoving the whole piece into her mouth.

"But dessert for breakfast?"

She shrugged and then fixed her gaze passed Nemir, her eyes wide.

"Eliseo!" she squealed and promptly choked on all the food in her mouth.

Nemir's tall and lanky caretaker slipped into the lavish bedchamber, coming to pat Desada on the back until her gasping subsided.

She looked up at Eliseo through teary eyes.

"Eliseo," she said. "Has it been so long? Your mustache has turned all grey."

He smiled softly.

"My mustache has been grey since you were a child," he said, shaking his head.

He glanced at the untouched meal and nodded.

"I'll have to speak to the palace chef," he said simply. He ran his eyes over Nemir's disheveled form with an ill-disguised grimace. "But first, I think it's best if I arrange for a bath."

Desada snorted into her drink in a very un-lady-like manner.

Nemir scowled.

***

The bathing chamber was large, brightened by a roof made entirely of glass, the light then reflected with walls of mirrors.

Nemir almost felt like he was outside. Everywhere he turned, he saw sunshine, blue skies, fluffy clouds—and the help and himself of course, but he was trying to ignore that part of it.

He had lost some weight during the long journey across the Capri Sea, and his hair, normally as shiny and curly as his sister's lay dull and limp across his skin. He looked tired, his softly tanned skin now sallow with bags under his eyes. To top it all off, he had a shadow of blotchy, dark grey across his chin. He didn't need to shave often, but when he left it too long, the hair never grew in thickly or evenly.

Feeling like an utter disgrace for showing himself to royalty like this, he pulled at the strings on his shirt and several hands were suddenly helping him.

His cheeks began to burn as he belatedly remembered how many people were still in the room with him. He brushed the other boy's hands away and tugged his shirt tightly closed against himself.

"I don't need help bathing," he said with a nervous laugh.

They seemed rather confused by that but Nemir didn't budge until every one of the boys had left the room, shutting the door securely behind them.

Most places had help reserved for tasks like these, but Nemir didn't like it. He never had and as soon as he'd become old enough to realize that he appreciated a little privacy, he had insisted on bathing and dressing alone.

Satisfied that he was now on his own, he pulled his clothes from his tired body. Dipping his toe into the warm water to test the temperature. He then sank down gratefully into the heat.

He sighed and shut his eyes, half hoping that he could stay here all day.

That was another thing that he truly appreciated—not having to socialize with new people...

No doubt the day would be filled with meeting dignitaries, King Jareth and his wife Queen Barnett, being two of them.

His stomach squirmed at the thought and he sank into the water until his whole head was submerged. Sure, he spent his entire life with royalty, but his mother and father hardly counted.

Only when he began to shiver from the cold water, did Nemir grudgingly pull himself from the bath.

He wrapped himself in the long white robe provided and found Eliseo waiting in his chambers with a fresh and rather elaborate outfit for him. It seemed that he would be lavished in rich burgundy velvet, and gold ornamentation. Cream and ivory poked out from the pile and Nemir ran his hands over the mass.

He was sure he hadn't packed anything like these.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"It's Tasnian formal wear," Eliseo said as Nemir lifted a long gold chain from the pile.

Eliseo pulled the string of metal from his fingers and replaced it with a razor and shaving cream.

"Let's get you more presentable before you are put before the King and Queen."

Nemir took a seat a little nervously. He had to shave so rarely that he still found the act embarrassingly frightening.

Eliseo prepared everything promptly, wetting his face and applying the cream, covering his chest with a towel. Only when the long silver blade was brought to his skin did Nemir squeeze his eyes shut and try not to move.

"You have nothing to be nervous about," Eliseo assured him. "It's just going to be a simple dinner, from what I was told. There will be only a few guests and you will sit with your sister by the royal family so that you can get to know one another a little bit more. The whole point of this is to create a strong bond between your families, after all."

Nemir swallowed, Eliseo's words adding to his frazzled nerves.

He wasn't very good at getting to know people.

***

Nemir tried in vain to keep his eyes in his head, but it was difficult when everywhere he glanced, some unknown object was shining at him.

The Tasnian clothes alone were so heavily ornamented by silver and gold and glass hanging from all directions, that Nemir could scarcely remember the faces of all the dinner guests seated around him.

"You're going to make me blush if you continue to stare like that."

Nemir looked up from the jewels on the decorated white suit he was staring at and realized that he'd been looking at Prince Allard.

He blushed at the look the blond was giving him and quickly looked away. It was impossible not to note that there was an annoyed glint in his eyes. Apparently, the subject of the slap had not been forgotten.

Nemir swallowed and attempted to eat some more of the meat which seemed to have been drowned in honey and oranges.

"So Nemir, how do you like what you've seen of Tasnia so far?"

Nemir looked at the King, who was only a seat away at the head of the table and the most decorated of all the dinner guests. He was the complete opposite of his son in nature. They looked much the same but where Allard tried to be impressive, the king was actually intimidating.

At his words, the table quieted and everyone waited for his answer, curiously.

He swallowed down his mouthful, nearly choking on the syrup and cleared his throat.

"Well, I—I haven't really seen any—any of the country yet," he stuttered.

Why did he stutter?

He saw Desada smirk from the corner of his eye and silently cursed her. It wasn't his fault that he did that under pressure.

"Just this lovely palace," he amended.

"Hm. Well in a week's time we were planning to accompany you and your lovely sister to the capitol. There will be the summer solstice celebration and parade. It really is fortunate that you arrived today. Shortly after the parade, the summer theatre festival will launch. People come from across the land to watch our performers," he said proudly, and then frowned. "You will need something to do in the meantime, I suppose."

"I don't mind spending my time here," Nemir stammered but King Jareth was exchanging a thoughtful glance with his wife.

"Well, that won't do at all, will it?" she asked.

She reached over and placed a hand on her son's arm.

"Why don't you take Nemir and Desada on a small tour tomorrow?"

A frown flittered across Allard's face but he covered it quickly with a charming smile.

"I'm afraid I was planning to go hunting tomorrow," he said easily. "A two day trip."

His father frowned.

"Go the next day," he said. "You will take them to the capitol and then the farming villages north of the city."

This time, Allard's ill-concealed frown was more obvious.

"But the princess has already seen those places and I already have all of my hunting gear ready to go."

Nemir shifted awkwardly.

"It's okay," he said.

The king shook his head sternly, making Nemir sink back into his seat.

"You are our guests. We want you to enjoy your stay here."

He glanced at his son and sighed.

"Show them around after you come back then," he suggested, and this time Allard smiled a little smugly and didn't argue it.

Nemir tried not to glare. He didn't particularly want to have a tour with the prince but seeing proof that Allard always got his way, explained his lacking personality.

"And why don't you take Nemir hunting with you tomorrow?" his mother added sweetly.

Nemir's eyes widened and he looked at Allard. There were several problems with the queen's suggestion, the first of which being that Nemir had no interest or ability to kill or track any animals. At all. The second of which being that Prince Allard was particularly difficult to endure and now he would have to spend two whole days with him?

Clearly, Prince Allard was thinking similar things, as he did not answer and only stared at his mother in agitation.

"Normally, I hunt alone," he finally said through clenched teeth.

"Then you won't mind some extra company," King Jareth said at once.

At his father's warning tone, Allard grimaced and nodded.

He shot Nemir a haughty glare.

"I hope that you're a swift hunter," he said. "I don't appreciate being slowed down."

"Nonsense," the queen said. "All boys know how to hunt."

Nemir grimaced.

"He won't slow you down." Desada suddenly piped up. "He's an excellent hunter."

"Really?" Allard asked, looking instantly relieved.

Nemir stared at his disloyal sister, attempting not to let his jaw drop.

"Oh yes," she continued, shooting him an amused look. "The only things that might deter him are Oves."

A thrill of foreboding ran down Nemir's spine.

"What are Oves?" he asked uneasily.

"They're ogre hybrids," Prince Allard said easily.

Nemir's blood ran cold.

"Ogres?" he demanded. "You have ogres in this land?"

He'd heard of other, terrifying, creatures in the Tasnian wilds, but ogres had never been mentioned, until now.

"Yes," Desada answered at once. The little wench was enjoying this far too much. "And they haven't been very happy with the royal family lately."

She smiled sympathetically.

"Have fun on your hunting trip dear brother," she said.

If Nemir thought that he had a chance to beat his little sister in a duel, this would definitely be the moment that he challenged her to one.

Instead, he just sat in silence while the royal family tried unsuccessfully to ease his quivering nerves.