Chapter XV

As they carried on, racing against time towards the Kingdom. There was another who pondered if he should return to the Kingdom. The young eighteen-year-old Lennox male, sixth-in-line to the Lennox throne, and unlikely to inherit it in his lifetime, which he didn't mind. Whenever he came into a new village with the Royal Army, he was always mistaken for his eldest brother, Archie. The two were near spitting images of one another, only Archie's hair was platinum blond, and his was dirty blond.

Lysander looked down at the paper, a neatly yet badly scrawled message from Archie;

Dearest Lysander,

How does the army treat you? Well, I hope. In your last letter, you mentioned you weren't sure if you could come back. I understand your situation and if you wish not to come back due to the things you've seen. I've heard you were among the few who cleared out rebels in the South-East regions. I wanted to compliment you on braving yourself against looking at death in the face.

If you ever wish to return to see this momentous event, The Summit of Gaia, then let me know. I still hold a lot of sway in the army and I'm sure your commanding officer wouldn't mind lending you to me.

Though that is only if you wish to return. I bet you're growing quick. Lorcan misses you a lot, he's terribly lonely at the castle as he nags me every day. I'm positive the others have already written to you, haven't they?

If not, there is one critical but sad news I must bring to you via letter. Our dear sister has lost her eyesight. I don't know when, but it's best if you don't ask her about the subject.

When you come back to the Kingdom, I will be married. Can't you believe that? Her name is Elora Blaric, and she's to become your new sister-in-law. Don't be offended, but she's my arranged marriage on this peace pact. You know me; I want to see our peoples no longer suffering.

Write soon,

- A

He crumpled the letter in his tightening grip. His brother has only been in the Kingdom for a year now, but things transformed in the lands. It wasn't only rebels that were cause for concern, but there was a band of Elves that were in their lands. Lysander could still recall that young female elf's pleas even as he sunk his sword further into her neck. The gargling of her blood as she died slowly and painfully. Those bright, violet hues void of life as they stared at him. No, things only seem to get worse since the border wars. Somehow, someway the elves were slipping unnoticed into their lands, conducting illegal businesses that dealt with substances that got their users addicted.

Lysander tossed the letter aside, got up from his chair, and emerged from his pitched tent. His opal blues looking towards the sun, glaring at it before moving on. His armor clinked with each step towards the make-shift bar that sat in the middle of the camp. They were in the South-West lands, sweeping the area to quell rebels, and if any more of the knife ears slipped by. As he neared the bar stools put out, a soldier sitting at the bar fell back onto the ground. This stopped him in his tracks, Lysander ran over as the man started thrashing and wailing.

"Hold him!" He ordered the nearby soldiers.

The man was clawing at his neck, Lysander tore off the collar. He jumped back, falling onto his ass at what he saw. The others leaned in before being told to stand back. An older, commanding officer's voice rang out above the commotion, "Get back!"

The ring of his sword as he unsheathed his long sword. He walked over casually and sank the sword into the soldier's neck, killing him in the process. Black ichor poured out from the wound, it was searching to grab anyone or anything nearby. His face screwed up in disgust as he poured leftover ale on the dead soldier's body and tossed a torch onto it. His body was screaming, quite literally, as the black ichor was dying in the flame.

"What the fuck was that?" One soldier finally asked.

The Commanding Officer turned back, "Death." Lysander could read the anger and worry in his commanding officer's eyes. He had a hunch that it wasn't his first time taking care of an infected host.

"One of you lousy newbies clean this mess up. Bury him, we have to get going by tonight. And someone get me a damn scribe!" He yelled over his shoulder as he was returning to his own tent.

'What the fuck was that?' Lysander repeated the soldier's words in his mind.

Archie returned in a drunken stupor to his quarters later that evening. Rolant had to carry the newly engaged soldier and lay him to bed, even while he spouts weird nonsense. His best friend would dismiss them as thoughts he wished to keep to himself. Though he couldn't help himself and reply back to him. It's not like the Prince would remember what he was saying in the morning anyhow.

"Would it be better if I were dead, Rolant?" Archie asked out of the blue.

"No." He spoke in a low voice, "You shouldn't ask things you don't mean."

Archie was laying in his bed, looking up at his best friend as he finished laying out fresh clothes for him. Sometimes Rolant felt more like his maid rather than his friend at times like these. He pulled the chair out from the desk and took a seat beside the Prince's bed.

"B-but I do—hic—mean it." Archie was well passed what he normally drank. He was stupider than usual if that were possible.

"Why do you want to die, Arch?" He asked back.

"I have a lot…onmy…shoulders, yanno?" Archie retorts in a drunken slur.

"Alright, Archie."

He dramatically raises his arms in the air, "Elora's wonderful." His head turns on the pillow to turn to him. "She's like me, cares for…her…people but—" He started hiccuping.

"Yeah? You tell that fair maiden you broke your promise then. The Summit's happening soon." Rolant said the wall was complete and so was the building that would rest between the borders, high off the grounds.

Archie snorts, "Those saplings—hic—are really going—hic—through with it."

"Quit acting like you're not excited, your majesty." Rolant teased. He got up off the chair and placed it back in its original spot.

Archie raised a finger at him, "Hey! You don't go having fun…"

Rolant gives him a smile and walks out as the Prince finally goes to sleep, his arm falls to the bed. He closes the door and emerges on the other side, finding his next quest to conquer for the night.

In the early afternoon, Archie awakes with a headache. A letter sits on his desk with a steaming cup of tea and a brief note in front of it;

Your fair maiden awaits – R

"That sod." He murmured, grabbing the tea and drinks it. While he lays in bed, the soldier reads over Elora's letter, remarking on the bold choice of words written on it. After finishing, he places it aside and continues to lie like that for another ten minutes while he finished his tea. Then, he finally gets up and changes into a less smell inducing attire. Though his headache lingers, he sits himself down in the chair and grabs his quill. With a single glance out to the sun ahead, a flock of birds soar by as he finally puts ink to the parchment;

Her Majesty Graciousness,

Queen of Jestering,

One with the Strong Headed-Elves,

Seamstress of My Dreams,

The Boldly Flirtress,

You are quite the jester, yourself. Are you sure the situations aren't the opposite of what you write? I must bring up a fact, recall to a letter or two ago when I said I would avoid taverns? Well, I have failed to keep that promise. My brother, Leo, visited me in the pit yesterday and we spent most of the late evening drinking at the Raven Tavern. Now, I pay dearly for it with a headache.

Will this be our last letter to one another before the summit? I heard they finished the construction. Though it wasn't Rolant who took me away, but my brother. I shall be there to dispel any loneliness from your heart, even while we aren't married yet.

Even if you hit me hard, it won't be as much as the punch you packed into my heart. I think there's a hole there that needs to be filled. What do you think? Can you fill that hole for me?

I can only imagine what it's like to be blind. She has told me little of the upsides to it; like heightened senses. She could smell the pastries from the kitchens while we talked in the salon that day. I feel you may have to find that out for yourself when we meet (wink)

I know four out of seven of my family will attend (not including my parents). My brothers, Landon and Lysander, are rather busy. Levian, who is most like my father in terms of personality, will come on the day of the summit—he was rather blunt of not wanting to waste time reminiscing with the family. Landon, that sod is off on an expedition somewhere far, so that's understandable that he won't be able to attend at all. Lysander, on the other hand, is…sweeping the lands with the Royal Army. I won't lie and say I worry for Lysander, the army can be an unforgiving choice of a career. I can only hope he has not changed after he returns. And congrats, again, on becoming an aunt.

Which…if we were to have children, what would they look like? I know our sons would look handsome thanks to my dashing looks that have you yearning for me, even through letter.

Is that a hint of jealousy, dear Seamstress? Worry not, wrinkles form when you do. I will not lie, I'm a bit of a flirt, but now that I've been promised to you, I shan't be at the end of your wrath. You women are rather scarier when you're angered.

Ah, so you read my words as wanting to embrace rather quickly, did you, my dear Elven Maiden? But if you're not interested, that's quite understanding. So, you're skilled with wood and stone, how daunting. We should duel one another one day. Don't worry, I will go light on you. And you find me handsome? I think I can agree to that. I look at myself over a hundred times an hour! I try to keep my long, flowing luscious locks in place, but the Goddess wants to see it all, I guess. I'm jesting, I'm not fixated on my looks.

Very much so, though I rather fancy you more. Say, do you have a library at your palace? I wish to see what histories you hideaway to collect dust—if it collects dust at all. Does that mean you'll save me from the bath if I were to drown under it? What if I fell into a one-inch puddle, would you dive in heroically and save me?

Don't mock my jealousy, it is just, is it not? Though I would like you to meet Rolant, he's an exemplary man. I say he's much more of a womanizer than I. I mean, he's the one who seems to be most excited to read the letters meant for me. He has glimpsed your writing; he thinks it's elegant. Don't mention it when you meet. Why, for a seamstress, you're quite bold in letter. Were those words meant to make my heart swoon? Because I'll tell you, it's going to take much more than a poetic choice of words to do that.

Ah, what poses are your favorite in this ballet? I should like to see soon. Though I will not lie, it's an excuse just to see how your form is. Why might I take your thoughts? Your heart swooning, already? Here, I thought it would take more than a badly written scripture to capture your heart. Though it seems I won't have to do much, right? I jest. I will not lie, though I keep my thoughts to myself most of the time, you may have appeared once or thrice in my dreams—even daydreams.

Those dainty hands shan't know callousness. Are you sure you're up for the challenge of weaving me such fine clothes? My, my, you're worrying that pretty little elven head over nothing. After they announced my betrothal, I am less swooned over by the local maidens in my Kingdom. I won't lie, I may like the attention, but I'm searching for a love like my parents'—you should see them when they're together. I've never seen such two people in love, it makes me envious to not have one yet. Will our love bloom? I hope so.

Speaking of family, my grandmother Emeligne would likely love your mother and aunt in such strict lessons. Though of what happened in the wars, she's likely to be like my grandfather and minimize their activity with your people.

Is that why your skull is so long and large? I shall call you my big-headed wife once the wedding ceremonies are over. Just wait till we make PA's to the public, will they like the nickname? I know not if they will permit me to bring him, but I will try if I can.

It looks like I have competition in the height department. Tell Aiduin I will duel him in the standing comparing battle. Tell him to be ready at dawn. I jest, do not tell him. Why, if I become faint of heart, then you shall know a lover's kiss rather earlier than you expected.

My colossal headed betrothed, you give yourself too much credit. The people don't want their Prince off to an outclassed seamstress. Then, I shall show you all the gardens. My mother is fond of many flowers and gardening—she tends to it when our gardener needs a day off.

Lucky for you, I am an expert in the lover's kiss lesson. Do not worry, I shall be gentle as the feather falling from a bird's back.

Look for the mad-sniffing Prince with his nose up in the air as I sniff out your scent. Those lavenders and berries will not hide from me forever!

Ah, yes. I will meet you in one of the many dark storage closets in your palace. It will take you all night, but I shall wait for you. Don't keep me waiting too long.

Your Court Jester,

Narcissistic Dashing Prince,

Handsome Husband-to-be,

Embracer and Professor in the Lover's Kiss,

Prince Archie Lennox