Dandelion woke to the scent of something cooking. He opened his eyes, only to find the world hazy with smoke and blurry. He rubbed his eyes, then waving the smoke away from his face. A few feet from him sat Goodwin, his hair a dark gold in the early morning sun, cooking meat on a stick. Dandelion got to his feet, stretching. A few bones in his spine popped.

“What are you cooking?” Dandelion asked, coming to squat near the fire. The flames crackled lowly, a soft orange in the morning sun.

“Fish. There’s a river not far from here.” Goodwin looked at him, the blue in his eyes cutting a path straight to Dandelion’s soul. “Did you have a night terror?” Dandelion felt the blood leave his face as he looked up at Goodwin.

“I… I….” Dandelion’s voice was soft, the trembling in it evident as he looked down at the browning fish. Goodwin turned the spit before speaking. No one’s ever asked about my night terrors. No one besides Ashara. Dandelion felt his stomach lurch. He took a deep breath, hoping it would stop the prickling in his eyes. It didn’t. Hot tears ran down his face like rain.

“Yes.” The word tore free from his throat like a flag in a gale, fresh sobs following after. Goodwin came around the fire and knelt. After a breath of hesitation, he took the trembling faerie in his arms.

It was a long while before Dandelion had stopped sobbing. As soon as his shattered pride would let him, he locked his dreams, both of them, in a box and paid it no mind. Goodwin handed him a fish. I can’t let him see my weakness again. A king must have no visible weakness. I must not be weak. Dandelion bit into the fish, savoring the flavor, his expression determined.

When Dandelion looked up from his half eaten fish, he found Goodwin staring at him, a strange look on his face. I do not believe he’ll let this go. Do I even want him to? It’s nice to have someone asking after my wellbeing and appear to mean it. Would it be weakness to share things of this nature with a… Whatever he is?

Dandelion finished his fish, tossing the bones and stick beside him. He licked the grease from his fingers, attempting to ignore Goodwin’s stare. When Goodwin finished his fish, and had stamped the fire out with the flat of his boot, he turned to Dandelion. Dandelion’s heart pounded and his hands shook.

“I’d like to come with you on The Hunt.”

Dandelion’s mouth dropped open. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Is- are you allowed to do that?” Dandelion’s voice cracked at the end. Goodwin shrugged, grinning.

“I haven’t heard about anyone doing that,” Dandelion said, still not quite believing it.

“Come on, friend. I know someone in the next village over who can maybe get up some horses, but first we’ll need to get some food for the trip.” Dandelion could only nod at Goodwin’s retreating back.

The village was alive in the morning light, people tending animals and setting up their stalls. Will it be like this until I return with Ashara? Goodwin led him to the same Tavern as yesterday. He turned to Dandelion.

“Stay here. I have a few things to get.” Goodwin disappeared inside, leaving Dandelion to smirk at his back. Saying goodbye to his woman, is he? I knew it! Dandelion looked around the village, grinning like a child as a few villagers nodded to him. This village will be on the list of those Ashara and I will visit after we are wed. Though we will likely visit the villages surrounding the lords castles first.

Dandelion fidgeted, impatience gnawing on him like a bone. He dared to peek in the glass window of the tavern. He saw no buxom dark haired serving maid, nor tall blonde halfling. I guess I’ll have to go inside then.

The door opened as his fingers brushed the handle, nearly hitting Dandelion in the face. He glared at the slobbering patron, snarling as he made his way into the street. I suppose it’s never too early to get drunk for some people. Dandelion turned away, entering the dim tavern, lit by a few candles and the early sunlight from the windows.

Dandelion looked around. There were naught but a few patrons, most of them bleary eyed and some face down on the long, dark wooden tables, snoring. A few serving maids went around the tables, cleaning around the sleeping patrons and fetching food and drink for the ones awake enough to request them.

“You,” Dandelion said, gesturing to one of them. She smiled at him, pretty as you please, batting her lashes. Dandelion wrinkled his nose. “Have you seen a tall blonde ha- man come in here? He had a serving wench with him, very buxom.”

The dark haired serving maid looked at the back staircase before looking back at Dandelion coyly. “She’s upstairs. I can show you up there if you like.” She ran a daring hand up Dandelion’s cloaked shoulder and across his chest, attempting to open it. Dandelion grabbed her wrist, letting it fall. His mouth was locked in a snarl as he stared down the serving maid.

Without looking back, Dandelion made a beeline for the stairs. He didn’t have much time for games.

The stairs only led to the left as Dandelion neared the top. As he passed the first three rooms, he heard nothing. A loud moan and the furious rustle of fabric came from behind the door of the fourth. It would serve him right if I walked in right now. Dandelion didn’t knock before opening the door.

On a few straw pallets, on a wooden bed, lay Goodwin. On top of him, riding him like a horse was the serving maid, isolt. Dandelion had the grace to flush silver, before knocking. Goodwin looked at him before folding his arms behind his head.

The blond serving maid, breasts bouncing smiled down at Goodwin. Tilting her head at Dandelion she asked, “Is he going to join us?” Goodwin laughed.

“No, love. He’s on The Hunt.” Goodwin grabbed Isolt's hips, lifting her up and setting her to the side before standing and grabbing his pants. “You couldn’t have waited half an hour at least?” Dandelion scowled, crossing his arms. It’s not like I’m a blushing virgin. Though I could have remained blissfully ignorant of this.

“If I had known you were occupied then I would have found some idle entertainment,” Dandelion snapped.

“There were three girls down-”

“Not like that!” Dandelion spat, blushing, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes bright. Goodwin laughed, his lips stretching in a smile. Isolt wrapped her arms around her lover, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Come back soon, my love.” Her words were not meant for Dandelions ears, he left the doorway, standing just outside on the door, his arms crossed and his eyes bleary with unshed tears. It is unlikely Ashara will ever speak like that to me, nor anyone else, anyone besides her mortal pet!

The soft sound of hissing and rustling fabric made its way to Dandelion’s ears. He bit his lip to hold in his sobs.

Goodwin came out, a sack on his shoulder and his sculpted chest covered by a dark tunic. His eyes were curious as he stared at Dandelion, saying nothing. He extended a pile of clothes in his hand to Dandelion.

“You’re probably cold with nothing under that cloak.” The censarity in Goodwins voice made the tears fall. Dandelion snatched the pile, wiping the tears before Goodwin could see. Why is he being so nice to me? He doesn’t know I’m royalty so WHY?

Dandelion threw open the door to the room beside Goodwin’s paramore, slamming it shut once he entered. He couldn’t undo the clasp on the sacred cloak so he settled for yanking it over his head. He scrambled to put the clothes on, tears running freely down his face and his breath coming out in ragged pants. His hands shook as he tried to tie the laces on the dingy green tunic, so he left them untied.

Dandelion’s heart had stopped pounding and his breathing had slowed, just a bit as he fastened the side clasp of the black boot, tucking the dark grey pants into them when he finished. Dandelion took a few minutes to steady his breath and dry his face before opening the door to a very confused Goodwin.

“I have another cloak for you. It’ll make you stand…” Goodwin looked over Dandelion’s back. What is he looking at? Goodwin held the cloak out, looking away. Dandelion shrugged it off, refusing to take the cloak.

“We can leave your… other cloak here with Isolt. She’ll take care of it.” Goodwin still wouldn’t look at him. Dandelion fetched the shimmering green cloak from the floor and handed it to the serving maid. He watched with narrowed eyes as she tucked it between two straw mattresses.

Dandelion turned back to Goodwin, walking past him. “Come along! I’d like to reach the next village before nightfall,” he called out over his shoulder. Dandelion took the stairs two at a time. As he looked at the tavern he noticed the few patrons were still sleeping or eating.

As Dandelion was about to step onto the main floor of the tavern, a hand caught his shoulder. Dandelion turned his head. Goodwin stood behind him, the brown cloak in hand.

“You’ll need this. They’ll see…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Dandelion raised a brow.

“What? My broken wings are hidden.” Dandelion shrugged, turning to descend the steps. Even though his eyes were firmly latched to the door, he heard the splash as a serving maid dropped a horn of ale and gasps from patrons. He continued walking, telling himself it didn’t matter. Omen marks are something to be proud of. So what if the common folk think they’re ugly.

Dandelion opened the door, looking back at Goodwin who was following close behind, a frown on his face. When they left the tavern, Dandelion spun on him.

“What? have you never seen someone’s Omen marks before?” Dandelion felt the anger rush hot through his veins like fire. Goodwin looked confused.

“What the hell are those? All I see is a torn shirt and mangled wings! Maybe they do things differently where you’re from, but it isn’t like that here! If they see you’re different, they’ll hurt you!” Goodwin’s hands were balled into fists, his teeth barred. Dandelion huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Everyone knows what Omen marks are, Obviously! Didn’t your mother teach you anything?” Dandelion snarled. “Oh. Wait… She’s probably dead!”

Goodwin swung at him.