The carriage jolted over the ruts, each movement sending a wave of aching pain through his entire body. Yuujin huddled in his cloak, but the chill seemed unrelenting.
"Just splendid," he muttered with a crooked smirk. "A prince who can't even make it to negotiations without catching a fever."
After he had come from that ill-fated river, having fled from the handsome stranger, he had collapsed with a fever and spent the entire time allotted for the negotiations laid up in his tent. The excessive stress had broken him, yet Yuujin still blamed himself for his own inadequacy. He clenched his teeth.
And to make it worse, the moment he closed his eyes, that image appeared again — light blond, slightly wavy hair falling just below the collarbones, broad shoulders covered in droplets of water, and those eyes... By the gods, those eyes. Bright as the petals of a royal violet, so beautiful. Who was he?

Yuujin even felt a pang of regret for not being brave enough; he could have at least asked the name of the man who had saved them from the serpent's maw. And just the memory of how that handsome man had pressed him close with his large, hot hands, and how Yuujin had felt his body through the clothing, sent a shiver through him. In the moment, he had been focused on survival, but now, alone with his thoughts, he couldn't help but savor the memory.
His own fantasies frightened him: imagining himself touching those surely soft strands of hair, then running a palm over the man's collarbones, his broad chest, brushing over brown nipples, moving lower to enjoy the firmness of his stomach, tracing the lines leading down to his groin and wrapping a hand around his hardened length. And the stranger would kiss him sweetly...

Yuujin's breath hitched, his cheeks flushing pink involuntarily. He shook his head quickly, shamefully chasing away these lewd thoughts.
In their country, relationships between men were not accepted — among the high nobility it sometimes happened, but the common folk would never understand. So Yuujin had never expected to experience such pleasure. He had understood his own orientation in his teenage years but had never shown it and never discussed it with anyone. And now, the sudden intimacy with such a beautiful and strong man haunted him. And he didn't even know his name! And he was from an enemy country, no less! But his voice, and the way he had so caringly wrung out Yuujin's clothes, and even carefully pulled him from the water... A languid sigh escaped Yuujin's chest.

"Stop thinking foolish things," he told himself sadly. "We'll never see each other again anyway..."

***

Moe sat by the campfire, gloomily sipping strong herbal tea from his travel mug. He detested these diplomatic missions.
"Why am I even here?" he grumbled, watching Errol sigh yet again in the direction of that damned scrap of cloth. White, light, clearly made of expensive fabric with gold trim. And, judging by how his cousin had been staring at it for the past few days, utterly cursed.
"Who else, if not you?" Errol replied with genuine bewilderment, tenderly pressing the cloth to his chest. Moe snorted, not hiding the irony in his voice.
"Yeah, right, indeed..."

He sighed. His elder cousin had always been exceptional. The Emperor's first son. The most handsome man among the nobility. The kingdom's finest warrior. The man who, at ten years old, had defeated the best sword master in a sparring match. And, worst of all, he was bored with it all.
"Moe, we're leaving," he had announced a month ago, bursting into his chambers. Moe had been just then savoring a newly imported tea from the Iltalian Empire and had absolutely no plans to go anywhere.
"Where to now?"
"To the negotiations with the Kingdom of Fitasentia!" He waved his arms animatedly. "You know, the ones we're currently at war with!"
"And why do I need to go?!"
"You'll help!" His violet eyes burned with determination.

Moe sighed again, remembering it. This war had started partly because Errol, languishing at home, had nowhere to apply his talents, and at first, he had been quite energized. But Errol was too skilled in battle, and with each passing day, Moe watched his enthusiasm wane — he disliked "kicking puppies" and preferred fair fights. Because of this, Moe himself often ended up on the receiving end, since for some reason, his crowned elder cousin had deemed him a "worthy rival," a title Moe couldn't shake off, even by constantly losing.
For the first two days before the negotiations, Errol had entertained himself in the camp as best he could. He defeated all the weapon masters in sparring. Twice. Made everyone reconsider the border maps just because he could. Won half the royal diplomats' salaries playing dice. And then he disappeared into the forest. But when he returned... he was a completely different man.
"What's with you?" Moe asked when Errol, for the fifth time that evening, ran his fingers over the white cloth with gold trim that he refused to part with.

"Nothing much. I just... fell in love."
Moe raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He had never noticed any passionate yearning in his brother, neither towards women nor men. Was he joking about love?
"In a river fish?"
Errol burst out laughing.
"No! I met a 'forest fairy'!"
Errol's eyes shone brightly in the firelight. And Moe truly began to think his brother had lost his mind. Though his opinion didn't change much even after hearing the story of what happened to Errol at the lake.
"And how will you find him?" he asked skeptically and, glancing at his brother, waved a hand. "Then again, why am I even asking..."
Moe knew: when Errol truly wanted something, he got it.
***
Errol had been out of sorts all day. He was so full of regret for letting him get away! That youth... so exquisite. He was so frightened, trembling in his hands, yet so brave! He had saved them, after all! And Errol surprised even himself by his inability to part with this cloak made of delicate fabric with gold embroidery. He kept touching it to his face, savoring the scent.
"How he smells... Jasmine... grass... and something sweet, like a ripe peach."
His personal obsession, his beautiful boy. Errol had only waded into the river out of sheer boredom, to catch some big, fat fish to roast right there, and he never planned to encounter a huge, monstrous snake, let alone fight it bare-handed! But it seemed the gods had sent him his destiny — he couldn't explain this magic any other way, and just the thought of him made his whole body ignite.

And when the camp fell asleep, Errol remained alone in his tent. He unbuckled his belt, letting his clothes fall to the floor. He lay down, pressing his 'forest fairy's' cloak to his face. He inhaled languidly, savoring the fragrance.
Until this moment, Errol had never understood what it meant to desire someone. He fought — yes, with pleasure. He studied — voraciously. But his body? His body was merely a tool. But now... it was on fire.
His hand slowly slid down. Brave, beautiful, sweet boy. Ripe peach. Forest fairy. So clever! He'd caught him off guard with that kiss! Errol touched his lips to the spot where he had felt the soft, pink lips of his golden-haired fairy. Errol licked his lips, wondering if they would taste as sweet as the rest of him. What would he look like, lying beneath him? Errol closed his eyes, surrendering to the fantasy. How his neck would arch if Errol buried his lips in that delicate skin, covering it with kisses. How his slender fingers would clutch the sheets when Errol entered him for the first time. How his slim body would wrap around him in response to every thrust, and how he would moan languidly beneath him, yielding completely.

"I'd make you forget you were ever afraid of me..."
A wave of pleasure washed over him, leaving behind only a sticky warmth on his stomach and the image of the magnificent, mysterious 'forest fairy'.