Dara sat tall upon his white horse, his blue uniform standing out in the sea of the king’s red worn by the guards who watched over him. They were riding somewhere, towards someone who needed Dara’s help. Dara couldn’t remember if he’d never been given the specifics of the job or if he’d simply forgotten, but it didn’t really matter. He would deal with whatever it was when they arrived.

His horse’s name was Clover. He remembered the immense disappointment he’d felt when she’d first been given to him. He had been told he would be getting a finely bred horse from the king’s own stables, but then she had been presented to him and she’d been so… passive. There was no fire or spirit in her, no personality. She was simply obedient. Functional. That was all anybody wanted around here, it seemed. 

But over time she’d grown on him. Sure, she didn’t have the raw energy of the yenkarth, but what she did have in spades was love. He would have fallen apart long ago without her company.

Dara was surprised when he looked around and found himself within the castle walls. They never brought him here. He was to one day be a surprise for Prince Maric, and that meant keeping him hidden while he was trained.

They dismounted and one of the soldiers led Dara inside, down a hallway that held memories that didn’t belong here. Dara stopped, not wanting to continue in this direction, but when he looked up he saw blue eyes, a blue uniform. Brayan.

Brayan’s eyebrows lifted, questioning, and Dara nodded and continued following him further and further down the hallway, a far greater distance than Dara remembered it covering, before they finally stopped in front of a door. Brayan opened the door and stepped aside to let Dara in.

Maric stood in the middle of the room, and for a moment Dara thought he was dressed in the king’s red. But no, the fabric was blue. It was just the blood that drenched it that made it appear red.

“I can’t help you,” Dara told him, because he remembered now. He wasn’t thirteen, fourteen anymore. He was a grown adult and his magic had eluded him for years.

“It’s okay,” Maric said. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Dara said, but he already knew that wasn’t true. He couldn’t feel any cuts on Maric’s skin, just a deep and miserable ache in his chest.

“Are you going to keep your promise?”

“I want to, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to find my fire again.”

“Yes you do. You felt it.”

“No, I—” But he had, hadn’t he? At the time he’d characterised it as a comforting warmth and dismissed it as a fleeting emotion, but it was more than that. So much more. And he’d felt it when Maric had laid down with him, had looked him in the eye and talked to him about all of his fears and insecurities, had asked to see the real Dara and hadn’t pulled away when Dara had complied. “Oh.”

“You made me a promise, Dara. Are you going to keep it?”

“How?”

Maric smiled. “You know how.”

Dara gasped as he woke up, heat burning deep in his belly, and he knew. Oh gods, he knew what he had to do. He just hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

The first rays of morning light had only just begun filtering through the window of his little room that connected to the stables as he quickly dressed. He considered leaving Paige a note to apologise because he genuinely did like her, but he suspected she was an earlier riser and if she found it before this was done, she would either get in the way of what Dara needed to do or make the decision not to and risk getting in trouble for it.

Raisin was still dozing when Dara entered his stall, but he immediately perked up when Dara reached for his saddle. By the time Dara led him out through the back of the stables, Raisin was ready to ride.

#

The last thing Maric remembered was lying fully clothed on the bed on top of the covers, being a miserable bastard, Brayan at his side. He woke up in his underclothes under the covers, Brayan nowhere to be seen. There was a cup of water on the table next to the bed. Maric leant his head back and groaned.

Had he said anything stupid to Brayan last night? He couldn’t remember exactly, but he had a feeling he hadn’t told Brayan anything that hadn’t already been obvious. He was lovesick for a damn slave. How his Captain still had any respect for him, he didn’t know.

Maric let out a long, tired sigh. He drank the water Brayan had left for him, dressed, and then opened the door. Garrod and Mathers were on watch outside.

“Wake Brayan if he’s not up already and tell him I want everyone ready to leave in ten minutes,” Maric told them. “Our business here is complete, so we may as well get an early start.”

“Yes, sir,” Mathers and Garrod said in unison.

Maric shut the door and busied himself completing the rest of his morning routine. He needed to be away from this place. Every part of this room held memories of Dara. The tub in the corner, the bed they’d never ended up having sex in because they’d been too busy talking about their damn feelings. Surely a little distance would ease the deep loneliness that was bearing down on him. Something had to, because so far it had only gotten worse.

Ten minutes after Maric had given the order, Brayan was at his door. “We’re ready to go. Are you?”

Maric let Brayan see the vulnerability, the exhaustion on his face for just a moment before he closed himself off and nodded. It was time to be a prince again. “Of course.”

#

Raisin was swift and tireless, but the sun had still very much risen by the time they neared the edge of the countryside. Dara dismounted on the edge of town and took a couple of steps back from Raisin, waiting for him to bolt. Raisin didn’t move.

Dara turned and started walking towards town, only to hear the clop of hooves on the road behind him as Raisin followed.

“No, Raisin.” Dara leant in and rubbed his head. “You have to go home now.” Dara stepped back and waved his hands in a shooing motion. “Go! Go on!”

Raisin shyed back a couple of steps, hesitated, and then turned and galloped in the direction of the ranch.

Dara ran towards the city.

The main road through the heart of the city was so thickly crowded with people that Dara struggled to push his way through, but that was a good thing, right? If the prince had already passed through, the crowd would have dispersed.

A cheer rose through the crowd, moving in Dara’s direction, and Dara pushed against the mass of people with renewed vigor. He needed to get to the front.

“Hey, watch it!” a man shouted, and a hand shoved so hard against Dara’s chest that he fell to the ground. Dara had barely regained his footing when someone else pushed him backwards, away from the throng of people.

And then Dara realised why he was being so poorly received. In his hurry to get ready, he had put the clothes Paige had given him yesterday back on instead of his uniform. As a general rule, the prince’s blue had always granted him a certain amount of respect not afforded to a typical Eth slave.

Dara could hear the sound of hooves now, but he couldn’t see anything and he knew he couldn’t shout loud enough to be heard over the crowd. He tried once more to push through, only to feel his arm being wrenched painfully behind his back as someone pulled him away.

“What are you doing here?” the guard who had hold of him demanded. “Who’s your master?”

“The prince,” Dara said. “I need to get through. Please.”

The guard looked him up and down, completely unconvinced. “I don’t think so. Come on.”

“Maric!” Dara shouted as the guard started to drag him away, but he could barely even hear himself over the roar of the crowd. There was no way the prince would hear him.

But maybe someone else would. Someone with keener ears.

Dara put his fingers to his lips and whistled, long and loud and high pitched.

#

It had been a slow, uneventful ride through the city when Farah suddenly pulled sharply to the side, towards the crowd. Maric reflexively tried to correct her, but she resisted him and after a moment, he caught Brayan’s eye and let her take the lead. He’d never known her to spook before, but she had a keen sense of danger. If she thought something was wrong, he wanted to know what it was.

The crowd parted as she ploughed towards it, unconcerned by the people in her path. Maric’s men had closed in around him, their eyes on everyone as they maintained a perimeter.

And then there he was. Dara. Frightened and in pain as a guard tried to forcefully drag him away, but as their eyes met, Maric saw the raw determination on his face.

Farah reared up, ready to kill to defend Dara, but then Dara let out a low, two toned whistle and her hooves hit the ground in front of the guard instead.

“That’s mine,” Maric told the guard.

The guard nodded quickly, releasing Dara and stumbling backwards.

Maric kept a firm grip on Farah’s reins as he dismounted, but she seemed to have calmed down. “Are you okay? What are you doing here, Dara?”

“You made me promise to be what I wanted to be, and I—I don’t know. I couldn’t just let you leave without me, your highness.”

Maric’s men had cleared a larger area around them, but they still very much had an audience.

“You want to come with me?” Maric asked.

Dara nodded. “I know it’s difficult and—and all sorts of things. Maybe this was a bad idea. I just—I think I need you.”

“Oh,” Maric said as something clenched in his chest.

“I’m sorry I’m nothing but trouble, your highness. But I did make you a promise, didn’t I?”

“You’re going to have to explain this one to me later. But for now…” Maric mounted Farah and offered Dara his hand. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”

Maric pulled Dara up behind him and as Dara’s arms wrapped around his waist, something relaxed inside of him. He didn’t care about the display they’d just put on, didn’t care how it looked to have a slave ride double with him.

All he cared about was that Dara was with him and that it was because he wanted to be.