Fate: Part 1 - Yearn

The aged, pale blue crystal walls of the throne room shimmer in the torchlight. Ornate vestiges of a proud lineage, they have borne witness to countless kings. Lives lived in the service of an empire…an unconsented burden, but one shouldered with noble dignity by my family since time immemorial.

I came of age only days ago, but already, I feel compelled toward this sacrificial altar. My life, to be offered to Balthia, Kingdom of the Magi. The impending abdication by my father has hastened my training. His teachings ring clear in my mind: to bear the weight of a nation, I must forego my sense of self. Personal needs and aspirations cloud a ruler’s judgment and must be set aside.

“Cecil, aren’t you pleased to welcome our guests?” My father’s deep voice growls from atop his throne, the vibrations ricocheting throughout my body as I stand at his side.

She is fair enough—no different than the rest. I am sure some would find her sheepish smile and soft features endearing, but to me, she is just another in a long parade of female admirers seeking attention I have never felt an inclination to give. Still, she is no average maiden. Brilliantly bejeweled silk robes and flawlessly manicured locks of rippling golden hair divulge her elite upbringing. She is the princess of Elrus, and after centuries of conflict between our nations, she is here in the name of a long-awaited alliance. We are to be wed.

“It is an honor to meet you. My name is Liira.” She curtsies gracefully, a crescent smile never leaving her lips.

“And I am Tristan Ezrael, her older brother and heir to the Elran throne.” The young man at her side speaks, the power in his voice startling me.

He appears only a few years older than his sister, but his presence commands an entirely different aura. Tall and dominant, he looks the part of an Elran prince. The nation is known for a strong tradition of warfare and honor, and the polished silver armor and crimson silk sash adorning his athletic frame seem more than appropriate. Set beneath a nest of short, messy chestnut-brown hair and bushy eyebrows, his intense, amber eyes meet my own as he gives a slight bow. I can’t help but notice how sharp his facial features are. He too must have no shortage of female admirers. Charming and refined, decidedly masculine, but well-groomed. He clearly cares about his appearance but maintains an air of nonchalance as though it is effortless for him.

Something about this foreigner is captivating. Perhaps it is just his confidence in my presence, but I feel as though we are already friends. Strange considering our obvious differences—I am far more comfortable sitting alone reading a book, while he seems energetic and outgoing. In actuality, I doubt we have much in common. Is this feeling admiration? Do I want to be more like this charismatic prince?

“Cecil, introduce yourself.” My Father’s booming voice jolts me from my trance.

“I am Cecil Auran, Prince of Balthia. I look forward to getting to know you both as we prepare for the wedding.”

My father nods approvingly. “Please show Tristan to his bedchamber. I will have one of the maids help Liira settle in.”

“Of course.”

I smile at my fascinating guest and motion for him to follow me toward the towering, gilded doors at the front of the throne room. We exit and begin our ascent through the expansive spiral staircase that penetrates the structure’s core. An architectural icon known as the Crystal Palace, the seat of the Balthian Empire is a towering monolith. A hollowed-out, singular crystal spire, it dominates the landscape and can be seen from miles away. The naturally occurring, pale-blue edifice took generations to convert into its present glory and serves as a monument to the longevity of Balthia.

“It’s really amazing.” Tristan’s voice echoes as we ascend the cavernous cylindrical structure, occasionally passing tall windows looking down on the landscape below.

A grin spreads across my face. “Just wait, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Tristan smiles in return. “Very different than where I’m from. Liira will be lucky to call such a place her home. Do you think the two of you will get along?”

My smile vanishes. “Oh, I suppose. I haven’t thought about it much, honestly.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m not a fan of the whole arranged marriage situation either, but people like us don’t get a choice.”

I am surprised by his candidness and how casually he speaks. It is a refreshing break from the formality I am used to and is the first time I have heard someone voice feelings like my own.

At last, we reach his guest room on one of the uppermost floors. I allow Tristan to enter first and can’t help but smirk as he looks around excitedly. Towering ceilings hover over a grand and generously appointed space. A canopy bed fitted with luxurious purple textiles sits atop a raised platform set opposite a prominent pair of glass doors. The golden afternoon sunlight pours through, cascading across the blue crystalline walls and polished floor, giving the space a luminescent, airy feel. Past the doors sits an expansive balcony granting an unobstructed view of the nation below.

“I’ll never want to leave.” Tristan sits down on the bed, face beaming as he looks at me with his golden-brown eyes. His smile is contagious.

“If you like this already, wait until you’ve seen the view outside!”

He raises his arms and stretches lazily, making himself at home.

“Ok, but let me get this armor off first. They always make me wear it for formal visits, but you wouldn’t believe how hot it gets. It has its place, but I ditch the formality and tradition the first chance I get.”

“You and me both.” A small laugh escapes my lips. My interaction with other royals around my same age has been limited, and I’ve never met someone who talks like this. I am not used to it, but it feels nice.

He stands and begins disrobing. I expected some sort of tunic underneath, but as he slowly removes his breastplate, his bare skin reveals itself. Lightly sweaty and glistening in the sunlight, I want to avert my eyes in respect, but I am too shocked by his build. To say he is athletic is an understatement. Intensely muscular shoulders gradually taper toward his narrow waist, creating a pronounced body shape that naturally guides my eyes. They travel from his broad shoulders toward his sturdy pecs as a single bead of sweat cascades down the powerful curvature. I follow its path toward his chiseled abs. So lean and fit. Growing up in the palace, my entire social circle has been limited to other pampered nobles, and certainly, none of them ever had a body like this. I feel stunned. I can’t help but appreciate how well he takes care of himself. Is it wrong to admire another man’s body like this?

He notices me staring.

“Oh sorry, I usually don’t wear anything under my armor when it’s just for formal occasions. I should have waited. I don’t mean to be rude.” He raises a hand behind his head, looking a bit embarrassed.

“O-oh not at all. I don’t think it is rude. Um, let me help.”

I step forward and grab his breastplate, moving it to a table in the center of the room. It is shockingly heavy. No wonder he is so strong.

I want to change the subject.

“Come look outside!”

I jog toward the soaring glass doors and fling them open. The fresh afternoon breeze bursts into the room, carrying with it the flowery scent of early springtime.

“Wow, feels nice.” That silly grin returns to his face as he runs past me and out onto the balcony. “Amazing, you can see for miles!”

It is true. From this vantage point, the whole of Balthia is visible. From the sprawling capital city down below, to the rolling green countryside and hills on the horizon. Aside from being breathtaking, it has been strategically beneficial in historical conflicts, providing an early alert to any approaching adversaries.

I look out toward Tristan as he grips the railing with both hands, the gentle breeze tousling his already messy, bronzed hair. The sunlight accentuates the lean sinews in his forearms rippling under his vibrant skin as he tightens his grip. His back is equally pronounced. Thick bands of muscle, but still not overly bulky. He has a very natural, healthy look. I bet it would be incredibly easy for him to pick up someone as small as me.

Blood rushes to my cheeks. What a ridiculous thought--why would he ever do that? I am a guy, and a future king no less. That must be the kind of thing girls think about, I suppose.

Tristan quickly looks back toward me, our gaze meeting before I quickly dart my eyes away, cheeks further reddening. He doesn’t seem to notice—or at least pretends not to.

“Come on out, it’s a beautiful day!”

I step out into the open air, crisp humidity filling my lungs and sunlight warming my skin. He is right—this is beautiful. I stand at his side, placing my hands on the railing near his own.

The townsfolk are but tiny specs far below us. Like little ants hurrying about their business, they are completely unaware of the presence observing them from high above. I’ve often wondered what their lives are like. Here in the palace, I haven’t had much exposure to the common folk. In fact, I haven’t had much exposure to anyone aside from my tutors and the palace guards. Being here with another prince is a breath of fresh air…it’s exciting.

Near the edge of the capital city, I can see the mage academy. An ancient institution, some of the finest magical minds in the world teach there. I am in the fortunate position of receiving private lessons here in the palace. Sometimes I wish I could have the traditional school experience, but the individualized instruction has been helpful. Unlike my father, I am not the most talented mage. Most of my skill gravitates toward the art of healing, but even that leaves room for improvement. I still have a lot to learn.

Looking out further in the distance, grassy hills extend toward the horizon, ultimately running up against a deep green tree line. The forest stretches east, eventually merging into Elran territory…the land this young prince will eventually control. His homeland can be seen clearly from this high up. A dark, gray, and mountainous region…I won’t lie, it doesn’t seem like the most welcoming of environments. Tristan’s cheery disposition is very much at odds with what I imagined a typical Elran would be like. Next to him now, it feels almost strange that our peoples have been deeply at odds for so many centuries. I’m glad my marriage will finally forge an alliance.

We stare out for a moment, taking in the majesty of the view before he breaks the silence.

“So, I meant to say earlier—I’m sorry you have to marry my sister. I know it isn’t your choice, and I’ll help you in any way I can.”

His forwardness continues to shock me. I am at a loss for words.

“T-thanks. I r-really appreciate that. I’m still not sure how I feel about the situation.”

“I’ll be honest though, I’m kind of glad you’re taking her off my hands. She’s your problem now.” He gently moves to the side, bumping his shoulder against my own and giving me a playful shove. I look up, but he continues to face forward, glancing down at me from the corner of his eye while wearing a mischievous smirk. He looks like he is trying not to laugh.

The over-confidence annoys me, and I forget my awkwardness moments ago.

“I’d say you should keep her, but I bet she will be happier here with me anyway!” I forcefully shove back into him, but my light frame doesn’t cause him to budge.

“If you say so.” He turns and casually strolls back inside, deliberately ignoring my outburst. It only makes me feel more flustered.

“I need to get going. You should get cleaned up before dinner tonight. We are having a welcome banquet for you and your sister.” I follow Tristan back inside as he sits down on the bed.

“Ok, but could you help me with something first? These armored boots are hard to take off on my own. I usually have the servants help, but it would be much quicker if you did it.”

Unbelievable. Is he enjoying this? Still, he is my guest and I should help him—however disrespectful the request.

“Fine.” I sigh.

“Thanks a bunch!” He smiles, looking quite pleased with himself as he stretches his legs out toward me.

I step forward and get on my knees before him. Taking one of his feet in my hand, I support his calf with the other. This is quite unbecoming of someone in my position—what if someone walks in and sees us?

The armored boot slides off with surprising ease…I can’t help but doubt he actually needs my help. I place it to the side, his bare foot now resting on my thigh, my hand still supporting his leg. I look up toward him, that same amused smirk is on his face as he leans back on those muscular arms, his head cocked to the side as he watches my handiwork. It’s impossible not to notice how incredibly lean his abs look in this position. From this viewpoint, he looks unbelievably strong. I feel so small as he towers over me, his piercing amber gaze raining down as my eyes trace the contours of his flawless body. If there was any doubt before, it has dissipated. He is beautiful.

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