daunting. daring. deliberate.

seeing malik at the festival was something else all together, draped in the finest opal and sapphire blue silks and glowing, sparkling like a jewel, as if an enchantment had been placed on him. if it hadn’t been him, someone else would have done the same eventually. oisín was the only one that was bold enough and had the resources for a successful kidnap job for someone as important as the varlinnis prince. but more importantly, he was the first to do so.

as with the blood before, the older man reached out to wipe at the other's tear, cupping the man's face, cradling it and using a thumb to rid malik of the salty liquid staining his profile. "you look so beautiful..." especially when he was crying. oisín knew then that he'd strive to let that happen more often... anything for another glimpse of this side of his prince.

at the very least, malik remembered of him, if not his name, then his presence, his face. in time, malik would come to know him a great deal, and maybe that would even the gap of how much more oisín knew of the varlinnis' second eldest when compared to the other way around. "and before that. yes. my prince." though his words weren't said with the respect and awe one typically used when saying 'my prince' but rather something akin to quantifying said prince before him as his property. "i am lord oisín slatiascairis, but you can refer to me as master... for now." perhaps mailk will be granted the privilege of something more later; husband eventually, once oisín was through moulding him to his tastes.

"i know a great deal about you, malik niamh of house feinhalnaar. your parents chose your name wisely." one day the radiant man (even looking like this) would be king, oisín would see to it — or rather mailk would be his queen, and him the king. the sorcerer had stalked his prey, years of monitoring the man, if not through his own eyes then through the eyes of spies and other contacts. he would have been perfect in the small council of lysain, gifted in the mental arcane arts and an excellent manipulator — he would have easily amassed power as the master of spies. but that was too conspicuous for him, too much attention and he had no desire to assert too much pressure on the lysain throne; at least not while he wasn't on a throne himself — he had his fingers in many pies for when the time would be right. "more than your father, radiant one. no, he could never understand that an arranged marriage wasn't for you." men like malik wanted to be wanted, to be loved. something he was very capable of providing.

the way the collar moved every time the prince made the smallest twitch. it fit him perfectly, and he didn't just meant in the sense that it was a good and tight fit, snug around the neck, but malik looked magnificent like this, like he should always have been collared; perhaps oisín would gift him one made from gold, to match the gold chains and jewellery the other was so fond of wearing. the lord of qaixoneus stepped back to get a thorough look of malik in his chair. giving him the full once over. appreciating the prince shirtless. fingers slid down malik’s bare chest, getting caught in his rough hairs as he briefly twirled them, enjoying how they felt against his fingertips. imagining how it would feel when they would lay in bed together...

oisín shook his head. he was getting ahead of himself. he still had work to do. malik's mind was exploitable in this state. vulnerable and terrified, confused and lost. it was easy for a sorcerer of his calibre to push and prod at it. a barely perceptible frown ceased his eyebrows as he stared down at the other while he expanded his own mind. oisín began rummaging through the man’s mind, digging deep subtly trying to find something for himself work with.

then, in for what seemed like minutes but was in actuality mere seconds, the sorcerer encountered on the perfect thread. and he pulled.

for some it was like pottery, pressing down against the mind like one would clay. for oisín it was akin to spinning fabric, something he’d actually picked up on once he made the connection. it helped him to hone his skills, visualise each thread in a person's mind. at the same time, it helped him to be like the people, helped to understand them. it was every little thing combined that allowed him to perform his magic with such ease now and without the need to move his fingers.

the magic wielder inserted a thought, weaving it in the man's subconscious. that malik would begin to think about him, miss his presence, crave his touch. the effect ought to be immediate but imperceptible, especially to another person that wasn't well-versed in mental magic.

a thrill ran down his spine and to his groin when he felt the thought nestle neatly into place. have some restraint, oisín. sure he could have just taken him now, the restrains would have made it all too easy, but the malik was special. the noble wanted his prince to at least desire him a little bit before he made his move, even if that desire was induced upon him.

even  just  being  the  second-born  prince  of  varlinnis  meant  that  malik  met  more  people  than  he  could  ever  properly  remember  &  since  he  tried  not  to  connect  with  most  of  the  people  he  met,  especially  the  nobles  &  higher-ups,  because  he  feared  they'd  get  interested  in  him  &  pursue  his  father  to  obtain  malik's  hand  in  marriage,  which  truly  was  the  last  thing  he  wanted.  but  even  without  taken  precautions,  he  couldn't  remember  everybody's  names  &  titles.  so,  the  man  in  front  of  him  must've  ended  up  on  the  list  of  lost  names.  unfortunately  for  malik,  it  seemed.  maybe  if  he  remembered,  all  this  would  make  more  sense,  though  he  was  beginning  to  get  an  idea  &  he  didn't  ...like  it.

thinking  back  to  the  festival  at  ritrinc,  he  couldn't  really  remember  anything  bad.  he  saw  his  brother's  rider,  met  his  brother  &  spent  some  time  with  him,  but  other  than  that?  he  just  danced  with  his  young,  utterly  adorable  guard,  who  was  the  biggest  puppy  he  ever  met,  but  in  the  shape  of  a  human.  a  few  men  had  approached  him,  as  was  usual  &  he  faintly  remembered  the  man  now  standing  in  front  him,  but  ...  god,  he  couldn't  recall  his  name  or  what  he  even  said.  for  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  malik  wished  he'd  paid  more  attention  to  the  people  around  him.

mind  racing,  thoughts  all  jumbled  in  a  state  of  inner  panic  &  turmoil,  malik  flinched  away  a  little  at  the  sudden  touch  to  his  face,  but  ended  up  leaning  into  it,  somewhat.  surely  not  like  a  lover  would,  but  he  was  chasing  comfort  wherever  it  was  available.  after  being  locked  up  in  the  dark  for  however  long,  he  was  exhausted,  he  was  terrified  &  truth  be  told,  he  never  wanted  to  wake  up  to  find  himself  in  his  bed  after  a  bad  dream  more  than  he  did  now.  while  he  usually  dreamt  he  was  elsewhere,  he  ...  would  give  anything  to  be  home  right  now,  in  his  own  four  walls  with  his  brothers  in  the  rooms  next  to  him  &  gods  he'd  even  take  his  father's  scrutinizing  look  at  the  breakfast  table  if  that  meant  he  could  escape  the  nightmare  he  seemed  to  be  stuck  in.

he  hadn't  really  noticed  the  tear,  not  until  the  sorcerer  caught  it  with  his  thumb.  he  was  gentle.  how  did  that  work  when  he  was  the  one  who  chained  malik  up  in  this  place?  blue  hues  rested  upon  the  man's  face,  trying  to  read  it  for  all  it  was  worth,  trying  to  find  reasoning  in  his  eyes  even  when  he  spoke,  his  words..  harmless  &  yet  his  tone  sent  goosebumps  across  his  skin.  they  met  ...before?  when?  where?  why  couldn't  he  remember?

&  then  his  thoughts  just  ...crumbled.  master.

"ma-master?"  master?  what  ...  was  this?  now  way.  what  sick  game  was  this?  where  was  he?  was  this  his  father's  way  of  teaching  him  a  lesson  for  trying  to  run  away?  that  had  to  be  it.  see  for  yourself,  son.  my  arrangement  is  impeccable.  while  you  proved  you  can't  look  after  yourself,  the  absolute  stranger  i've  chosen  to  sell  you  to  has  been  waiting  to  take  you  away  from  everything  you  know.  please,  malik  hated  to  even  think  about  this,  but  ...  he'd  take  it  over  the  pressing  truth  slowly  creeping  up  on  him.  please,  oh  gods,  save  me.

if  this  was  a  pointed  attack  ...on  him,  then  he  was  truly  lost,  because  for  all  he  knew,  his  family  simply  thought  he  ran  away  from  an  arranged  marriage  -  never  to  be  found  again,  when  in  truth,  he  lay  in  some  dungeon,  waiting  for  the  next  shoe  to  drop.  nobody  would  come  looking  for  him.  not  in  this  place,  not  in  any  place  that  could  lead  them  here.  he  ...was  doomed.  it  was  his  fault,  too,  because  he  chose  to  run  in  the  middle  of  the  night  &  without  telling  his  brothers.  he  knew  ryker  would've  come  with  him,  helped  him  find  somewhere  safe,  but  he  didn't  want  to  drag  his  little  brother  into  this,  not  when  he  ....well,  when  he  needed  to  be  on  his  father's  good  side  if  he  ever  wanted  to  wed  the  love  of  his  life.  was  darius  even  the  love  of  his  life?

oisin.  the  name  vaguely  rang  a  bell,  as  did  his  last  name  -  truly  a  mouthful,  but  he  couldn't  quite  remember.  however  oisin  seemed  to  know  all  the  more  about  him,  which  did  not  help  the  uneasy  feeling  settling  in  his  gut  at  this  point.  it  was  confusing,  because  he  wasn't  a  lord  of  their  kingdom,  he  could  tell  that  for  sure,  so  ....why  him?  why  did  he  not  kidnap  a  prince  from  somewhere  else  &  what  did  he  expect  to  come  out  of  this?  "how...?"  the  planned  marriage  was  a  secret,  nobody  outside  the  castle  knew  yet  &  even  inside...  only  few  did.  "h-how  do  you  know?"  he  was  right,  though  —  his  father  didn't  know  him.  he  never  tried  to.  but  this  stranger  did?  did  they  have  a  traitor  in  the  castle?  did  someone...  do  this  to  him?  was  someone  else  to  blame?

thinking  about  it  like  this  almost  made  him  sad,  but  for  a  different  reason  than  before.  he  spent  all  his  life  trying  to  be  seen  for  the  man  he  was  &  to  earn  his  father's  permission  to  be  that  man,  but  it  had  always  been  as  if  the  old  man  only  saw  one  thing:  a  wasted  opportunity.  well,  if  he  died  in  this  place,  then  maybe  his  father  would  finally  be  happy,  because  this  would  prove  he  was  right  all  along.  malik  threw  his  life  away  in  an  attempt  to  find  happiness.  how  dare  he?  something  akin  a  sob  rose  up  his  throat,  though  other  than  making  his  body  convulse,  it  didn't  really  go  far.  fear  had  locked  up  his  throat,  the  lump  impenetrable  &  soft,  rushed  breaths  barely  working  around  it.

for  a  moment,  malik  thought  the  man  was  leaving  him,  panic  skyrocketing  because  he  could  not  take  another  week  locked  up  in  this  place,  sleeping  on  the  cold  ground  like  a  peasant  with  no  food  &  water.  he  couldn't.  but  he  was  not  left  alone,  not  yet  anyway.  instead,  oisin  seemed  to  ...observe  him.  like  a  prize  he  just  won.  he  ...did,  didn't  he?  malik  had  all  but  delivered  himself  to  him.  malik's  breath  hitched  when  a  hand  placed  against  his  chest,  lips  trembling  on  the  verge  of  releasing  a  quiet  whimper,  but  he  didn't.  eyes  still  searching  for  mercy  within  the  other's,  he  just  ..  held.  what  else  could  he  do  other  than  maybe  break?

he  thought  that  maybe  he  got  through  to  him,  because  one  moment  he'd  been  twirling  his  chest  hair  &  the  next  he  stilled,  looking  right  back  at  him  like  he  heard  his  silent  plea.  but  maybe  he'd  been  imagining  it,  maybe  he  saw  a  softness  in  his  familiar  face  that  didn't  exist,  maybe  there  was  no  more  to  him  than  this  &  malik  was  pulling  at  straws  that  didn't  exist.  but  when  he  pulled  his  hand  away,  the  prince  felt  like  he  lost  something  he  didn't  know  he  had.  it  all  happened  so  fast,  but  he  sucked  in  a  surprised  little  breath,  shuffling  a  little  within  the  boundaries  of  his  restraints.  "wait!  please  don't  leave  me."  he  just  got  here.  he  couldn't  possibly  think  about  leaving  malik  alone  again,  could  he?  "w-we  can  talk.  o-or  you  can  talk  and  i'll  listen.  just  don't  go.  please."

"Of course I can! I can manage that easily. Just you wait." Ben thumped a hand over his chest and nodded as he turned to the banquet of food and edible things at their disposal. He could focus on completing a task. He started with a cup of a sweet yellowish juice, it had a bit of a floral smell with a touch of citrus. And in it poured honey and a bit of lemon, using his wind magic to make the contents of the glass swirl like a cyclone mixing the two together to make something the prince might like. Bringing it back he held it out a hopeful look on his face as he hoped the prince would like his offering.

malik  had  grown  tall  over  the  years,  much  like  his  father  before  him.  where  others—his  father,  especially—saw  an  advantage  in  his  height,  be  it  the  reach  of  a  fighter’s  limbs  or  the  longer  strides  of  a  runner,  malik  saw  no  such  benefit.  not  that  he  minded.  he  made  do  with  what  he  had  &  if  nothing  else,  he  knew  his  face  was  what  truly  set  him  apart.  the  feinhalnaars  were  blessed  in  that  regard  &  he  was  no  exception.  beauty  had  a  way  of  opening  doors  &  while  he  acknowledged  the  privilege  it  granted  him,  he  liked  to  think  he  had  earned  it—for  all  the  sacrifices  this  life  had  demanded  of  him.

the  prince  smiled,  tilting  his  head  as  if  considering  the  compliment  for  a  moment.  "oh?  well,  poetry  is  nothing  without  a  strong  hand  to  put  it  to  parchment."  he  mused,  letting  his  fingers  trail  lightly  over  the  guard’s  arm  as  they  walked.  "besides,  grace  is  nothing  without  someone  to  catch  you  should  you  stumble.  surely,  you  would  catch  me  if  i  fell,  wouldn't  you,  ben?"  he  let  the  young  guard  fare,  standing  back  while  he  took  it  upon  himself  to  bestow  the  perfect  refreshments  upon  the  second  born  prince  of  varlinnis.  he  couldn't  help  but  notice  the  subtle  display  of  the  guard's  powers  &  knew  them  for  what  they  were  right  away.  so  similar  to  his  own.

malik  had  collected  a  small  crowd  around  him  by  the  time  bennett  returned,  but  the  moment  the  young  guard  stepped  into  his  vicinity  again,  he  only  had  eyes  for  him,  eager  to  taste  his  creation  &  truly  curious  about  how  close  he  came  to  the  prince's  rather  peculiar  request.  tasting  the  offered  beverage,  starting  it  off  with  a  small  sip,  followed  by  a  moderate  gulp,  he  took  a  few  moments  to  contemplate  whether  he  liked  it  or  not.  "i've  no  idea  if  that's  what  i  asked  for,  but—"  malik's  eyes  lit  up  &  he  gently  placed  the  cup  against  the  guard's  lips,  "go  on,  try  it."  he  gave  him  a  moment,  though  the  prince  looked  far  from  unhappy,  "it's  quite  good,  don't  you  think?"

The soft touch to his jaw made him blush, the color burning into his cheeks as the prince was so casual with that soft hand. Warm and light. It made him forget that he was a terribly stiff dancer, that he wasn't able to move as gracefully or as lovely as the prince. "Y-you think I'm cute? Thank you Your Highness that is very kind of you. I am sure you know this but you a-are a vision of splendor yourself. So lovely." he said softly his eyes wide with awe as he stared back at the prince's face.

malik’s  smile  softened,  his  usual  playful  air  gentled  by  the  guard’s  shyness.  he  tilted  his  head  slightly,  studying  the  young  man  with  warm  amusement.  "you’re  sweet,"  he  hummed,  his  thumb  grazing  the  guard’s  wrist  in  as  he  held  it,  more  reassurance  than  tease.  “and  far  too  kind  to  me."  a  quiet  laugh  left  him,  breathy  and  light.  “but  I  think  i’ll  keep  your  words  close  to  my  heart  all  the  same.”

his  gaze  lingered  for  just  a  moment  longer  before  he  stepped  back,  the  music  still  playing  around  them  even  after  they  left  the  crowd  behind  mostly,  pleased  they  stepped  around  him  without  causing  any  problems.  “you  dance  well,”  he  added,  softer  still.  "perhaps...  we’ll  share  another  before  the  night  is  through."  soft  smile  still  playing  around  his  lips,  "i'm  having  a  wonderful  night.  no  less  thanks  to  you,  my  dear  guard."  letting  his  eyes  roam  the  stands,  offering  fruit,  vegetables  -  fresh  from  the  fields  surely,  but  at  the  same  time  soups  &  other  dishes  to  be  had  out  here,  wine  &  other  beverages.

malik's  eyes  brightened  with  quiet  delight  at  the  offer,  and  he  let  out  a  soft  hum,  tapping  a  delicate  finger  against  his  lips  as  if  in  deep  contemplation.  he  could  go  for  wine,  but  maybe  he  should  start  with  juice.  then,  with  a  playful  tilt  of  his  head,  he  chuckled,  "as  sweet  as  the  first  bite  of  honeyed  figs  in  autumn—enough  to  make  me  forget  anything  bitter  exists."  his  smile  turned  a  touch  mischievous  as  he  added,  “think  you  can  manage  that,  ben?”  he  couldn't  help  it,  the  little  guard's  timid  nature  brought  out  the  most  playful  side  in  him.

the youngest varlinnis prince didn't deny the allegations that he would not ever miss a chance to his dragonrider. anyone that knew him well enough could see that clear as day. "what about you? you think you're going to find d'sólchroí here?" it was no secret that malik was a romantic; well, he was too. anyone that knew him well enough would also know that. darius, the main object of his affections, most of all. and ryker knew that his brother deserved the world and love just as much as anyone, more than that actually.

"what did father have to say, knowing you'll turn heads looking like this. which prince or lord is he trying to marry you off to this time? or is he hoping to get more offers for your hand in marriage?" it was also no secret that their father, king eagan, had been trying to marry his brother off for their family and kingdom’s prosperity. malik was a vision of beauty and anyone would be lucky and blessed by the phoenix to have him. their father knew this and had been constantly making steps to secure their position within the kingdoms by exploiting that sentiment.

ah.  back  home  always.  malik  wished  he  could  respond  to  that  proper,  but  if  his  little  brother  knew  how  close  the  second  born  varlinnis  prince  had  been  to  getting  out,  he'd  likely  be  the  one  to  put  a  chain  around  his  neck  so  he  couldn't  run  away.  or  maybe  not,  maybe  he'd  be  the  one  calling  the  carriage  for  his  grand  escape.  maybe  he'd  be  the  one  to  secretly  come  see  him  in  his  self-inflicted  exile.  truth  be  told,  malik  liked  that  thought.  quite  a  bit.  but  he  didn't  mention  it  &  instead  hugged  his  brother  tightly  for  a  little  longer  even  after  the  kiss,  only  reluctantly  letting  him  go.  between  daily  routine  &  his  trips  to  vissai,  malik  couldn't  help  feel  like  they  were  drifting.  partially  because  of  him,  no  doubt.

he  envied  the  two  lovebirds,  no  amount  of  teasing  could  ever  conceal  that,  he  envied  the  way  ryker  must  feel  laying  his  eyes  on  the  dragonrider,  the  way  his  heart  must  skip  a  few  beats  when  their  eyes  met  &  the  way  words  fell  short  when  they  finally  kissed.  malik  dreamt  of  the  same  or  more.  he  dreamt  of  his  own  prince,  riding  into  the  palace,  cape  flowing  &  shirt  open  to  bear  his  strong  chest  —  perfect  to  nap  on,  mighty  enough  to  hold  him  &  firm  enough  to  make  him  feel  safe  when  pressed  against  it,  to  demand  his  hand  from  the  king.

surely,  if  he  told  anybody  but  his  brother,  they'd  comment  he  shouldn't  be  confusing  stories  &  real  life,  because  men  like  that  didn't  exist,  but  he  saw  it.  he  saw  it  between  the  two,  even  if  wasn't  wholly  developed  yet.  he  trusted  in  them.  he  ...  believed  in  soulmate  &  that  love  would  always  find  its  way.  in  his  case  it  just  had  to  be  faster,  because  he  was  running  out  of  time.  "here?  who  knows.  for  all  i  know  he's  on  his  way  over  to  offer  me  a  drink  right  now."  malik  hummed  with  a  little  smile  on  his  lips.  well,  he  had  to  hope,  right?  what  ....would  he  have  left  without  hope?  "if  he  does  find  me,  he  better  does  so  before  i've  had  more  wine."  he  chuckled  quietly,  patting  his  brother  on  the  back.

"like  this?"  malik  lifted  his  arms  &  did  a  little  swirl,  losing  his  balance  for  a  second,  but  quickly  caught  himself  again.  "are  you  saying  you  don't  like  it,  brother?"  he  thought  he  looked  stunning.

malik  gave  a  soft,  almost  lazy  shrug,  his  lips  curling  into  a  teasing  smile.  "what  he  said?  oh,  you  know  the  usual,"  he  started,  his  voice  light  &  laced  with  mockery.  "blah  blah,  i  should  be  wearing  sixty  pounds  of  armor  instead  of  this  fine,  soft  silk,  blah  blah.  ‘you’re  a  prince,  not  a  dancer,’  he  says.  because,  of  course,  it  doesn’t  matter  if  armor  makes  you  look  like  a  walking,  clanking  chestplate—what  truly  matters  is  whether  you  can  swing  a  sword  &  spill  blood  for  the  kingdom."  his  eyes  rolled  upward  (not  a  rare  sight),  as  if  to  indicate  the  sheer  absurdity  of  it  all.

he  let  out  a  sigh,  adjusting  the  fabric  of  his  outfit  with  a  small  flourish  as  though  to  emphasize  the  point,  his  eyes  seemingly  having  lost  some  of  that  previous  brightness.  "you  know,  he  always  seems  to  forget  that  the  only  thing  i’m  fighting  for  is  the  comfort  of  a  good  fabric  against  my  skin.  but  no,  apparently  being  a  prince  isn’t  about  looking  beautiful  or  keeping  your  hands  soft.  it’s  all  about  how  well  you  can  stab  a  person  in  the  heart."  malik's  smile  turned  into  something  a  little  more  bitter,  though  his  tone  remained  playful.  "no  matter  how  many  times  I  tell  him,  he  just  can't  seem  to  understand  that  not  all  warriors  are  made  of  steel."

congratulations  to  all  those  who  wanted  to  be  known  for  how  well  they  could  kill.  malik  would  never  share  a  side  with  them.

malik’s  smile  faltered  slightly,  his  fingers  brushing  the  edge  of  his  sleeve  absently  as  he  stared  at  the  floor  for  a  moment,  the  lightness  of  his  previous  words  slipping  away.  he  took  a  breath  before  looking  up  at  ryker,  his  gaze  softer,  more  vulnerable  now.  "as  for  the  suitors…"  he  began,  his  voice  quieter,  tinged  with  something  that  might  be  frustration  or  a  quiet  sadness.  both.  "father…  he  does  hope  the  festival  will  bring  more  offers,  of  course.  the  more  eyes  on  me,  the  more  chances  for  alliances,  more  reasons  for  his  precious  kingdom  to  flourish.  he'll  take  any  excuse  to  present  me,  i'll  take  any  excuse  to  get  out  of  that  palace.  win,  win."  he  paused,  running  a  hand  through  his  hair.  "he’d  like  nothing  more  than  for  me  to  marry  into  one  of  the  royal  houses.  one  of  those  would  bring  him  power,  prestige.  stability  for  varlinnis.  and  me?  i'd  be  stuck  with  someone  who  sees  me  as  little  more  than  a  prize  to  be  claimed.  until  then,  though,  the  lords  and  nobles  can  try,  he's  hoping  for  more  still."  for  how  long?  he  didn't  know.  malik  was  getting  older,  he'd  soon  turn  forty. 

he  sighed,  the  weight  of  his  own  emotions  slipping  through  his  usual  mask  of  indifference.  voice  quiet,  almost  like  he  was  sharing  a  secret.  "i'm  not  just  a  pawn  to  be  moved  or  a  symbol  to  be  traded.  i  want…  something  real,  ry.  something  more  than  just  alliances  and  good  matches.  i  want  to  feel…  loved,  not  like  a  duty  or  an  arrangement.  but,  of  course,  that’s  not  the  kind  of  thing  he  values."  malik’s  lips  twitched  into  a  small,  wry  smile,  though  it  didn’t  quite  reach  his  eyes. ryker knew all this, but he’d made the mistake of asking.   "you  know  how  it  is.  duty  first.  always.  but  for  now,  more  wine.  i'm  too  sober  to  watch  you  and  your  dragon  be  cute  around  each  other."

Bennett was wearing his more formal guards attire, the under clothes were finer than normal, a soft natural colored linen, and the armor over it was polished to a bright shiny mirror like finish. Breast plate barely fit on him but he was too poor to get another one fitted, and he was also embarrassed he had grown so much since the last time he had gotten it.

Bennett relaxed a bit when Malik cupped his cheek so gently. He remembered to breath. "Your Highness. Bennett. My name is Bennett. You can call me Ben..." he said softly as he followed along a blushing mess as he was dragged out with the prince to dance. Unsure of what to do he did as he was instructed. Awkwardly at first he moved stiffly at first. Loosening as he got more comfortable, dancing to the music.

malik  enjoyed  the  festivities  outside  the  varlinnisian  palace  for  there  were  no  judgmental  eyes  on  him  &  every  move  he  made.  he  could  just  be  himself  tonight,  which  was  quite  rare.  he  knew  his  little  brother  would  be  about  as  well  &  while  he  meant  to  meet  up  with  him,  he  knew  that  ryker  would  be  busy  living  his  own  life.  he  wondered  if  the  vissaian  crown  prince  was  present,  too.  surely,  he'd  be  around  in  some  shape  or  form.  but  none  of  that  mattered  to  him  per  se,  no  more  than  that  he  would  be  happy  for  his  brother  perhaps.

"you  look  rather  cute,  ben."  fingers  brushing  along  his  jaw  when  he  pulled  his  hand  back.  such  a  fine  young  gentleman.  he  wondered  what  happened  to  the  usual  suspects,  maybe  they'd  decided  he  was  too  much  work.  he  didn't  mind  fresh  meat,  not  at  all.  he  looked  a  little  clumsy,  too  -  both  in  his  awkward  movements  &  his  clothes.  they  didn't  fit,  like  he'd  been  thrown  into  this  just  today.  had  his  father  deemed  him  worthless  now,  so  he  got  a  new  guard  who'd  run  at  the  first  sight  of  danger?  ah,  malik  doubted  he'd  be  as  lucky.

dancing  made  him  happy,  music  spoke  to  him  on  the  deepest  level,  his  body  moving  freely,  finally  at  ease  -  worries  &  fear  forgotten  for  the  time  being.  hands  found  the  young  guard's  again,  dancing  with  him  instead,  easing  his  body  into  moving  alongside  with  his  own.  he  wasn't  doing  badly  at  all,  for  someone  who  didn't  seem  the  type  to  be  doing  this  often.

after  a  little  while,  he  wasn't  sure  how  much  time  passed,  the  second  oldest  varlinnis  prince  who  was  still  holding  onto  bennett's  hand,  pulled  the  young  guard  along  through  the  crowd  again,  a  leap  to  his  step  &  a  soft  smile  on  his  lips.  "i  don't  know  about  you,  ben,  but  i'm  parched.  let's  find  ourselves  some  juice,  why  don't  we?"

the prince either didn't remember him at all or failed to recollect who he was in the state he was in. confusion clouding is mind while deprived of light and basic necessities. oisín wasn't aggrieved at that. disappointed perhaps he didn't make a big enough impression on the prince in the fleeting times they've crossed paths. still, he didn't reveal himself just yet... maybe give the other chance to sieve through memories in his brain for an answer.

at the mention of the varlinnis king, the noble resisted a cruel laugh. he cared not for the royal other than his plans to depose of him eventually, just like the crown prince. malik seemed far more interested in what his father would and could do than what he might do himself to bargain his way out of the chair he found himself. "what i want he has decided to give away to someone else." he'd been driven to anger when rumours of an arranged marriage between his beloved and some undeserving lord. he'd have that man killed sooner or later. but never did he expect for the prince to run away, giving him the perfect opportunity to enact his plans.

oisín stalked closer to his captured prey, leaning down so he was closer to the other than he had ever been before. up close the lord couldn't help but admire malik's delicate features. he tilted the man's face to the side, heart racing at the allure of the feinhalnaar, before releasing his grip. if it wasn't clear to malik by now, he was exactly what oisín wanted and he decided for the prince's sake to clarify. "you're what i want and he's certainly intending on not giving you to me. no matter, i do not require him or his approval. i have you now." the arrangement imposed on malik by his father was a minor inconvenience to the mental sorcerer at worse, a boon at best. especially considering how it all played out for him. oisín did not just mention that he wanted malik to be his because in his eyes, the prince already was.

curling his fingers up, oisín caressed the captive's scruffy face with the back of hand. "a most exquisite creature. the beauty of varlinnis." in awe of the other's elegance, even stained and marred as it was. finger against the other's bottom lip, wiping away at the droplets of blood. a soft iridescent glow behind his fingertips, healing the man's cracked lips. the light faded and oisín lifted his fingers up before pressing it to his own lips, tasting malik on his tongue. the first taste of his future spouse.

bright  blue  hues  followed  the  stranger's  every  movement,  his  thoughts  raced,  tumbling  over  each  other  in  a  frantic  rush  trying  to  decipher  what  he'd  do  next,  what  he  wanted,  why  malik  was  even  here.  he  wasn't  made  for  this  kind  of  environment,  the  sheer  thought  of  a  spider  sharing  this  space  with  him  alone  ...making  him  uncomfortable  enough  to  stay  up  at  night,  even  though  he  couldn't  see  a  spider  ....if  it  did  a  little  dance  in  front  of  him.

the  more  he  spoke,  the  more  it  bothered  malik  that  he  couldn't  ....ah.  one  moment  he  was  lost  in  the  fog  of  terror  &  anxiety,  the  next  it  all  came  back  to  him.  well,  it  wasn't  much.  but  they  met  before.  in  fact,  it  hadn't  been  too  long  yet.  did  they  ever  exchange  more  than  pleasantries?  he  couldn't  ...remember  the  man's  name,  but  he  remembered  the  intensity  of  his  gaze,  eyes  that  seemingly  saw  through  him  with  only  little  effort.  was  this  ...  vengeance  for  lost  opportunities?  was  this  because  he  hadn't  greeted  him  proper?  what  if  this  wasn't  about  a  ransom  after  all?  he'd  been  so  convinced  that  his  blood  could  be  the  only  possible  reason  for  his  abduction,  he  hadn't  even  thought  about  him  having  been  the  target.  why  would  he?  he  ...  tried  to  live  a  good  life.  an  honest,  free  life.

even  though  he  knew  that  freedom  was  no  longer  in  the  cards  for  him  even  if  he  escaped  this  place  alive.  he  would  either  have  to  hide  for  the  rest  of  his  life  ...  or  accept  defeat  &  offer  himself  to  a  man  he  never  met  before  ..  for  the  sole  reason  of  political  advantage.  he  loved  his  kingdom,  he  did....  but...  didn't  he  deserve  happiness,  too?  he  wouldn't  find  that  in  a  loveless  life.  in  a  life  that  wasn't  his.  all  this  time  he  tried  to  avoid  piquing  interest.  he  attended  festivities,  he  dressed  his  very  best  &  only  ever  showed  himself  from  his  brightest  side,  danced  &  conversed  if  needed,  but  he  didn't  connect.

he  never  wanted  to  draw  attention  to  himself  so  that  suitors  ...  were  sparse  &  to  chase  the  foolish  dream  that  maybe  if  he  just  managed  to  fall  in  love  with  someone,  his  father  would  ...  agree.  foolish  indeed.

what  i  want  he  has  decided  to  give  away  to  someone  else.

but  what  was  that?  was  it  ...treasure?  cattle?  had  his  father  upset  a  wealthy  man?  a  noble  of  his  own  kingdom?  was  malik  paying  the  price  with  his  life?  brows  pulled  together  when  it  seemed  like  he  was  inspected,  his  head  moved  left  &  right,  neck  craned  &  the  long  chain  rustling  whenever  he  moved,  the  collar  shifting  every  time  he  swallowed  hard  around  the  dry  lump  in  his  throat.

you're  what  i  want  and  he's  certainly  intending  on  not  giving  you  to  me.

"me?"  this  ...was  about  him?  just  him?  someone  would  go  this  far  ...for  him?  but  why?  his  father  had  just  announced  he  was  eager  to  sell  him  for  a  shake  of  hands  &  some  crops,  or  cattle  -  he  hadn't  exactly  listened  to  the  proposition  after  hearing  it  was  an  arranged  marriage  &  he  had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  maybe  he  should've  asked  for  him.  not  the  point,  though.  he  didn't  want  to  marry  any  stranger  whatsoever.  not  this  one,  not  the  one  his  father  chose.

thoughts  were  racing  once  more,  as  was  his  heart,  eyes  glossed  over  while  the  prince  tried  to  make  sense  of  it  all  without  losing  himself  to  panic.  fingers  trembled  against  the  arm  rests  of  the  ...chair,  thighs  quivered  &  the  cuffs  around  his  ankles  almost  jingled  with  the  movement.  eyes  always  on  the  other's,  watching  for  ....something.  searching  for  mercy.  for  laughter,  a  pat  on  the  back  &  the  promise  that  it  had  all  just  been  a  jest.  but  ...it  wasn't,  was  it?  he  was  so  gentle  in  his  touch,  so  kind  malik  almost  forgot  that  he  was  a  prisoner.

his  lips  felt  better  almost  instantly,  the  little  ..demonstration  not  lost  to  him  even  in  his  current  state,  neither  was  the....was...  when  he...  he  tasted  his  blood?  please,  lord  of  the  flames...  protect  me.  but  malik  had  been  raised  proper.  "thank  y-you."  voice  still  raw  &  softer  than  usual  due  to  lack  of  use,  but  with  his  ...abductor  so  close,  it  didn't  need  to  be  louder,  did  it?  the  flask  almost  had  his  eyes  glow,  heart  fluttering  in  relief  when  the  first  drops  of  water  hit  the  back  of  his  throat,  greedily  devouring  as  much  as  it  would  give.  the  flamed  beast  smiled  down  upon  him  after  all.  "thank  you."  out  of  breath  from  vigorous  drinking,  refreshed  &  relieved,  a  little  tear  rolled  down  his  cheek,  though  he  paid  it  no  mind,  lips  tugged  into  the  softest  of  smiles.

"i...  i  don't  remember  your  name.  i-i  apologize.  but  we  met,  didn't  we?  i-in...  ritrinc.  the...  the  festival.  my name is  malik,  b-but  i  think  you  know  that."

Location: Ritrinc Harvest Festival

Bennett's stomach twisted into a knot as he looked over the crowed and down along the lit streets, wind beneath his feet lifted him into the air for a moment so he could take a survey of the area. He hated, HATED when his captain gave him important things like this to do. He wanted boring not important missions. What if he messed up? Well that was hardly something he could afford now was it?

On edge as he touched back onto the ground he turned to the prince and gave him a little bow of his head. "It should be safe your royal highness, what should we do first? Would you prefer food and drink? Or perhaps to see some of the other spectacles of the festival? I am am er- at your disposal? I don't know what do say...please don't behead me." he swallowed hard. Etiquette was never his forte. He knew he had to be respectful but how much was too much? He didn't want the prince to think he was making fun of him.

"Um-um I'm Bennett by the way. Er- sir. Sire? " He hoped for the love of the old gods that the prince did not listen to rumors among the guards about how all he did was blow things up on accident.

ah,  it  was  beautiful.

the  streets  bathed  in  moonlight  &  the  warm,  comforting  glow  of  lanterns  alike,  people  dancing,  music  guiding  their  bodies.  malik  felt  right  at  home,  in  his  element.  draped  in  sapphire  and  cerulean  silk,  his  sheer  robe  spilled  over  his  shoulders  &  arms,  gold  embroidery  tracing  delicate  wings  of  a  phoenix  along  the  edges.  beneath  it,  a  fitted  indigo  vest  clung  to  his  frame,  fastened  with  golden  clasps,  while  a  wide  cobalt  sash  cinched  his  waist.  loose  silk  trousers  billowed  with  each  step  before  tapering  at  his  ankles,  where  fine  embroidery  adorned  the  cuffs.

gold  chains  draped  across  his  chest  and  shoulders,  linking  to  delicate  arm  cuffs.  his  wrists  jingled  with  stacked  bangles  &  his  fingers  bore  rings  of  lapis  and  sapphire.  even  his  ankles  weren’t  bare,  a  thin  golden  chain  glinting  beneath  the  hem  of  his  trousers.  every  shimmer  of  gold,  every  whisper  of  silk,  made  him  a  vision  of  elegance—like  a  legend  woven  in  moonlight  and  fire.  he  was  used  to  being  accompanied  by  a  guard  or  two,  but  they  usually  were  more  ...  stoic.  this  one  seemed  almost  innocent,  maybe  a  little  clumsy.  good  at  heart,  no  doubt.

"please."  voice  a  gentle  hum,  cuffs  jingling  as  one  of  his  arms  lifted  so  that  a  hand  could  cup  the  young  guard's  cheek.  "shhhhh,  relax.  i  could  bounce  a  coin  off  your  broad  chest  at  this  rate.  that's  no  way  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  harvest  festival.  deep  breaths,  little  guard.  deep  breaths.  close  your  eyes  and  feel  the  music.  let  it  guide  your  heart."  malik's  presence  never  went  unnoticed  &  it  didn't  this  time  either.  familiar  faces  &  not,  he  greeted  them  all  with  love  in  his  heart,  bright  smile  still  on  his  lips  when  he  turned  back  to  bennett.  "come."  hand  reached  out  to  grab  the  boy's  as  he  dragged  him  towards  the  dancing  crowd.  "feel  the  music."

the  crowd  split  for  them  with  ease,  forming  a  small  circle  around  malik  to  give  the  prince  space  while  he  danced.  once  upon  a  time  the  attention  would've  bothered  him,  but  now?  he  reveled  in  it.  “dance  with  me,  little  guard.”

the noble had planned and schemed and murdered and brainwashed and manipulated people just so he could have the man firmly in his dungeon. and this was no ordinary man. no, this was the esteemed malik feinhalnaar, second in line to the varlinnis throne. and if oisín had his way. his future wife. and one step closer to sitting on the royal seat. there had been multiple setbacks to get to this point but oisín, ever persistent, was nothing if not determined.

no, this was something he wanted for years, at least decades if he was being honest. power he craved, bringing glory to his house, coveting a very specific throne. all his desires nurtured from a young age. but when he'd first set eyes on malik, he wanted him, lusted over him. and he knew he had to have him. whatever it took.

oisín still had a lot of work to do to get there however. and it all starts with mentally manipulating and training the man. sure he could pose as malik's rescuer from this horrid place — no doubt what he'd planned to implant into the man's brain later when all this was said and done, and the story that they'd both (when the prince was resolutely in his clutches) sell to the king of varlinnis. but oh he did so enjoy breaking in men and women. not just physically, but mentally too. that sick thrill lit up a fire in him every time he did so. make them his.

but nothing and no one did he ever want to be his more than the pretty man trapped in his dungeon.

he let the prince stew in relative darkness, days with minimal food and water. the cunning man kept his fellow sorcerer weak so that malik couldn't use his magic against him when oisín would reveal himself. it would also have made the man more susceptible to mental conditioning and commands. just little things first before he'd make the prince obey his every word eventually. he wanted malik's devotion towards him to be absolute.

not to mention: the air was dry — he did his research. knew whatever there was to know about his prince, or at least what he could have gleamed from his interactions with the other and people who had been in contact with his obsession; listened to every oral story about the royal. every little tidbit gained just made him love him more, proved to himself that what he needed to do was right. and oisín knew the lack of moisture would be hard for the other to manipulate, kingly blood or no.

the noble descended into the basement and unlocked the prison door. he walked in, illuminating the place with a magically powered glow light floating just above him. the light at first dim before growing and turning harsh as it cast its light on the man in the room, chained and locked tight into the chair.

he'd  had  a  many  thought  while  trapped  in  this  place  with  information  scarce  &  escape  routes  not  yet  willed  into  existence.  was  this  ..for  coin?  had  he  been  kidnapped  for  a  ransom?  would  his  father  -  in  this  moment,  procure  golden  coin  to  save  his  son?  though  that  raised  the  question  malik  was  afraid  to  ask  himself:

would  he?

out  of  all  the  princes,  malik  felt  he  was  the  least  ...  impactful.  he  had  been  blessed  with  the  magic  of  their  ancestors,  but  so  had  their  youngest  brother  &  ryker  was  a  gifted  fighter  on  top,  who  swung  magic  as  well  as  he  did  his  sword  &  had  single-handedly  befriended  the  vissaian  crown  prince.  he'd  inherited  the  feinhalnaar's  beauty  as  well  &  stood  up  to  par  with  malik  in  every  sense,  if  not  higher.  malik  was  also  not  the  crown  prince,  but  merely  the  second  born.  did  ...  his  father  even  consider  freeing  him?  would  he?

the  more  he'd  thought  about  it,  the  less  sure  he  became,  so  eventually  he  forced  himself  to  stop.  but  if  not  for  his  name,  why  else  would  someone  catch  &  chain  him?  for  his  magic?  surely,  there  were  others  around  who  were  more  viable  targets  than  him.  after  the  first  few  days,  he  tried  to  stop  finding  a  reason  for  he  wouldn't  know  the  truth  until  it  was  presented  to  him  anyway,  but  one  thing  seemed  clear.  he  was  wanted  alive.

when  the  thirst  became  too  much  to  bear,  he'd  tried  producing  water,  which  was  when  a  thought  struck.  what  if  he  used  it  to....  but  it  was  to  no  avail  for  his  magic  didn't  work  in  this  place.  he  could  summon  a  few  drops  at  best  &  while  even  those  were  a  blessing  to  a  parched  man,  it  took  a  lot  of  strength  to  do  so  &  he  wasn't  sure  the  effort  was  rewarded  profoundly.  if  it  cost  him  more  strength  to  call  forth  drops  of  water  than  the  water  gave  him...  he'd  cut  his  own  flesh  that  way.

after  days  in  the  dark,  the  door  swinging  open  to  reveal  a  ..light  just  floating  inside  so  bright  malik  had  to  squeeze  his  eyes  shut  &  avert  his  gaze  even  when  he  squinted  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  man  stepping  inside  with  it.  it  took  his  eyes  a  little  while  to  get  used  to  light  again,  but  even  then  -  when  his  gaze  fell  on  the  man  addressing  him  so  formally,  he  ...  came  up  short.  sure,  it  was  familiar  in  a  way  &  he  had  no  doubt  they  spoke  before,  but  malik  met  a  lot  of  people  ...every  day,  every  time  his  father  hosted  festivities  &  every  time  he  invited  suitors  into  the  castle  to  meet  him.

malik  was  famished  &  afraid,  the  reality  of  his  situation  way  too  heavy  a  weight  on  his  shoulders.  he  knows  who  you  are.  so  this  was  indeed  a  pointed  attack,  was  it  not?  lips  were  dry  when  they  parted,  droplets  of  blood  forming  in  the  little  cracks  that  tore  when  he  swallowed  hard  or  tried  to  speak.  words  fell  short  at  first,  but  he  cleared  his  throat,  a  little  wince  followed  &  quiet  whispers  grew  into  soft  tones.  "w-who....  why?"  he  just  wanted  to  go  home.

at  the  mention  of  precautions,  his  eyes  followed  the  other's  down  to  the  chair  he  was  strapped  into.  teeth  clattered  when  he  didn't  pay  attention  &  he  sucked  in  a  little  breath  when  touched,  his  neck  giving  in  to  the  nudging  to  lift  to  bear  not  only  the  collar  around  his  neck,  but  his  bright  blue  eyes  filled  with  fear,  too.  what...  was  this  about?  why  was  he  here?  what  was...  what  was  happening?

beautiful.

he  couldn't  move,  he  couldn't  even  pull  away,  although  the  soft  nature  of  the  touch  had  him  lean  into  it.  almost.  "please,  m-my  father,  i'm  sure  he'll  give  you  what  you  ask."  fingers  &  thighs  trembled  against  the  sturdy  chair,  unsure  of  what  would  happen  next.  terrified  of  what  was  yet  to  come.  again,  reminded  of  his  short  comings,  for  he  was  sure  his  brothers  would  be  spitting  insults  &  threads,  ryker  would  never  have  ended  in  this  chair  in  the  first  place,  but  malik  ...  soft,  naive  malik...  was  not  born  with  the  bravery  of  a  soldier.  "please."