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Before King Arven lay a war table scattered with hand drawn maps and wooden tokens. The sight had worn long into his eyes, to the point that the strategies and terrain all blended into a mess of shapes and colors. The royal clutched the edge of the table, supporting himself through the grit of his teeth. Malenord’s forces had been gathering in the western corner of the rival ruler’s kingdom. King Arven had been poring the maps, struggling to derive any intent from Malenord’s actions. The two kingdoms had held a tense peace for the past five decades, but following the passing of the crown, the old king’s upstart son had proven to be unpredictable. If his own military was not deployed carefully, King Arven’s kingdom would be in jeopardy of an opportunistic assault. By the golden crown upon his head, the king would not allow such a fate to befall his people.
“If you stare at those papers any longer, your eyes might just jump from your skull entirely.” Arven turned towards the voice, his gaze meeting the bleary figure of a lithe scholar bearing a lilting smile: his court wizard, Ser Ellowys. The wide-brimmed hat that denoted Ser Ellowys’s arcane position rested atop a swoop of dark bangs which so frequently concealed the look in their eyes. Still, King Arven had no doubt of the kind worry pressed into their brow.
With a motion of his hand he brushed off Ellowys’s concern. “Ah, ‘tis nothing, Ser Ellowys. King Malenord moves swiftly, and my other less magically-inclined advisors have taken the dark hour upon themselves to rest. Thusly, the duty falls upon me to study the maps and review histories.” The young king scoffed, running a rough hand through his blond curls. “If only I shared in their ease.”
The smile on Ser Ellowys’s expression fell. They approached the king at once, brushing off the billowing nightcloak that rested upon their shoulders. Before the king could raise a protest, the garment had been wrapped over him. It still hummed with Ser Ellowys’s warmth, and it tingled with the sharp, familiar scent of their magic inks. “Unfortunately, your highness, it would reflect poorly upon the court wizard to allow their king to catch a cold. Must I remind you again of our childhood?” Ellowys clicked their tongue, shaking their head. “The whole court was nigh upon a riot when you had collapsed of exhaustion in front of your sword master. Had you not spoken in her favor when you awoke, she might have lost more than her position.”
A red flush touched King Arven’s cheeks, but this he once again shrugged off. “Unfortunately, my court wizard,” Arven mimicked, “there will not be a court to riot if we are invaded by the Graven Kingdom.” Evidently this was not the correct response, for at this Ellowys fluttered and ruffled, boots scuffing the floor of the war room.
“Why are you always like this; always pushing yourself to the brink of wakefulness until I must inevitably drag you back? For but one moment could you think of yourself? You speak of a duty to your people and yet a sick king can not rule!” They were close enough that Arven could see the flare of their nostrils and the grimace on their lips.
“And what of you,” he retorted, rising from his slumped position. “I know how long you spend tending to our castle’s wards, and all of the nights you spend crafting magical solutions for every citizen’s problems. More than once have I found you asleep atop your tomes and scrolls! Speak not to me of an overburdened duty.” The two locked eyes, one sleep-worn glower to the other exhausted glare. Ellowys was not blind to the tired slump that weighed upon the king’s normally proud shoulders, and from this distance, Arven could sense his court wizard’s trembling, thin frame.
At once, both the king and the mage let out a sigh. A wry smile graced King Arven as he rubbed his forehead. Ser Ellowys leaned against the wall, rough cobblestone meeting their back.
“What two fools we are, El,” King Arven chuckled.
“Fools for life, Ven,” Ser Ellowys agreed.
The king took a step forward, fingers grazing the wall by the wizard’s head. The sly tilt of their chin upwards, their shy, warm smile; both flickered in the king’s bosom. Unable to feign for the better, Ellowys shivered. “Ah, I have forgotten myself. You must be cold without your robe, El.”
The mage touched lightly upon the king’s elbow, blushing. “I have suffered colder nights without you, your highness.”
At this, the king faltered. “What do you mean, without me?”
Within the dim candlelight cast against ancient tapestries, Arven felt the grip on his sleeve tighten. “Ever since you took the crown, your obligations have kept us apart. I am rarely allowed to spend time with you before you are whisked away for some ceremony or other. These past years it seems as though we have had nary a moment to ourselves, together.” They tilted the brim of their hat lower, hiding their expression.
“Ah, I see…” The king trailed off, memories of old adventures and older yet misadventures returning at once.
The practice of magic was not only obscure, but scarce. Although the esoteric texts remained, the magical bloodline had thinned over the centuries, rarely manifesting itself in an individual. Baffled was the royal court of Endometer when one such blessed child had been abandoned at the castle gates, shivering beneath the rain and robbed of their memory. The nobility had argued at length over what to do with the child. Many called for their execution, fearing a trap from a rival nation. However, when the young Prince Arven had grown attached to Ellowys, the late king of Endometer decreed that the child would be raised within the castle walls. With the king having no further heirs, the two children were raised together.
There were none with whom Arven confided more than Ellowys. Then, it was only natural when the crown was passed that Ser Ellowys would follow as the new king’s shadow and right hand. His court wizard was correct, however. Between all of Arven’s new responsibilities and the search for his bride to be, he had been left no time for idyllic pleasantries. Every day wore on more mercilessly than the last.
With a gentle gesture, Arven brushed the hair from Ellowys’s brow, revealing tear-stricken eyes. The revelation of being seen burned the mage, and yet Arven pressed on. “My greatest fear, El, is that I would lack the ability to comfort thee. You have ever remained my most faithful companion, and I will be damned to the hells before I fail to prove myself the same to you.”
Ser Ellowys pulled the brimmed hat from atop their head and pulled it close to their chest. In a cautious movement, the wizard leaned into their friend, head nestled into the crook of his neck. They muttered, quiet enough for only the two of them. “Damn you, Ven. Why did you have to go and beat me in height? Arven’s heart panged in his chest. The distance of time appeared to stretch infinitely, straining at the invisible threads that bound their fates entwined.
“El, I…” For all his eloquence as a ruler, the words had caught in the king’s throat.
Ellowys shook their head. The rising pounding of their friend’s heart resonated clearly. “It’s alright, Ven. I understand that my demands are selfish, and I shan’t ask more of you than you are able to provide. We have our own gardens to tend, and purposes we must fulfill-”
“Please,” the king interjected. He brushed the edge of the wizard’s cheek with a thumb. “Please, just listen to me.” The air in the room grew still, holding its breath. “I can not permit our story to end like this, El. The throne is colder than any night I have known, and it is colder still without you. I know that we can not relive the past, but I also know that without you I have been a husk of the man you once spent every day and every night with.” A deep breath, then, and a pause. “If not every day, then would you at least spend your nights with me? I admit, my sleep has suffered for my ill moods…”
Now, Arven felt Ellowys’s heart racing alongside his. “What, you mean like when we were kids and I would sneak into your bed after another bad dream?”
The king smiled, nodding his head. “Yes, something of that manner.”
Ellowys was laughing now, and the air grew warmer around the two. They were struck with the feeling that perhaps a new beginning was within reach. “I would like that very much, Ven. I would like that more than anything.”
The king and his court wizard met hands by their sides, fingers curling between the gaps in the other, completing them. The road before them lay besieged by conflict and responsibility. And yet, the journey felt all the more possible together. They had abandoned much in their youth, but in security, they would never abandon each other.