Mister Loki

Thank you so much, that’s really encouraging to hear, especially since I’ve been gone from it for so long! The story means a lot to me and I really want to get back to it soon! 

First promo image for the short story “The Brother That Wasn’t” that I am working on with @jahnadraws. I am just so excited to finally be working on this project and I cannot wait for you to all read it! It is a queer historical fantasy! 

A snippet of a story (temp title) I worked on late last year. I’ve had it plotted out for awhile, but haven’t sat down to actually write more than a scene here and a scene there, none of it connecting. Here’s a small sample for anyone who is interested! 

Gay knight in love with his bi prince and his prince’s enemy slow burn kinda deal, SE Asian medieval fantasy

Let me know if you enjoyed it! I can post more as I go along or maybe a full chapter if I finally get to it! 

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The summer stretches out endlessly against the dry fields with only the occasional unsatisfying, hot breeze from the Aradonian desert to the east.  It is under this sun that I toil, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead as I let another arrow fly, missing my mark by a few inches. It lies scattered amongst several other feathered tips, but not a single one has found its bull’s eye.

 I curse.

 “That isn’t the way for the goddess’ chosen to speak.”

 My head whips to face the familiar voice, and I immediately feel a surge of embarrassment when I see Prince Agarus leaning on one of the many columns behind me. How long had he been standing there observing me? I relax my posture before rubbing my right shoulder, tense from the strain of my practice. The atmosphere about Agarus is casual, but I drop into a bow, my braids nearly touching the ground as I do so.  

 “Apologies, my prince. I did not mean to disrespect the crown or the goddess,” I say, causing Agarus to scoff at me.

 “I was teasing,” Agarus says with narrowed eyes, as if uncertain of who I am for a moment with my formal tone of voice.  “Eferain, what has gotten into you? Please don’t tell me this is all about the tournament. It’s just entertainment for the annual summit between our allied nations.”

 “Yes, but…” I protest loudly at first and then immediately withdraw. I have caught myself being too familiar around Agarus multiple times these past several weeks. It is difficult to adjust after having grown up alongside the prince as playmates, with him now as my superior.  Every day, I see how he grows into a wise man worthy of the circlet adorning his forehead and am reminded about how I am merely a lucky fool of a fisherman’s son. There is no one I know better than Agarus and yet I feel the circumstances of our responsibilities driving a stake between us.  

 As the days of summer slip by, I can feel the eyes and the pressure from the courts mounting on me like a physical weight.  Everyone expects me to bring our country honor at the games.  

 The only person who does not seem to care is him.

 Agarus was born into his position, trained and taught from birth for greatness.  I was nothing more than a dumb country boy who coincidentally picked the right token and got the right toss of cracked chicken bones.  It could have been anyone.  They call me the goddess’ ordained chosen, destined to uphold the crown.  Standing in a scattered sea of missed arrows, I certainly do not feel like that.

 If only things were as uncomplicated as back then, when we had both been children, and Agarus had simply been my best friend.

 “The Aradonians are known for their archery, aren’t they?” I say this time with an appropriate tone, one that is both respectful and distant.  I can tell that Agarus senses this as he gazes at me through his dark lashes. He makes no comment, though I sense his disappointment.  “What mockery would I bring upon your name if I allow the Aradonians to shoot circles around me?  I want to bring you honor.”

 “You want to bring the crown honor,” Agarus corrects me gently. “Besides, you’re representing my older brother, not me. You forget that I am neither king nor crown prince.  You need not be so formal.”

 Agarus takes a step down from the stone platform onto the open grounds where I have been practicing.  I am not quite sure of what he means to do until he stands across from me and attempts to take my hands in his own.  I gasp immediately, jumping back as if hot coals have scalded me.  I regret my instinctive reaction just as I can see that Agarus has finally registered the true distance between us now.  He folds his hands in his robes out of sight, as if somehow that would erase what he had tried to do.

 “I rarely see you anymore,” Agarus says quietly. “Do you truly fear what people might say about us?  Should it really be that surprising if we were to spend some time together?  We are not doing anything wrong.  Whatever the courts might say is little more than rumormongering amongst the courtesans in southside.  You have always been like a brother to me. ”

 Agarus pauses before he adds in a tentative whisper, “I miss you.”

 Agarus has always had a way of evoking sympathy with his demeanor and gentle way of speaking. Though he may not have the commanding mannerisms of a future king as his brother, Jothram, I would have been lying if I did not admit that I also longed for his companionship as well.  

 It almost makes me give in.

 Almost.

 “Rumors or not,” I say as I keep my distance while pleading him with my eyes, “I will not do anything that may tarnish your reputation or show that your dedication to the goddess is anything but sincere.  There is enough talk that you called upon her name merely to walk the temple halls alongside me.  I am sorry, my prince, but I think it is best if you allow me to practice in private, and you continue with your lessons and prayers as you will.”

 Calling him an honorific rather than his name wounds him more than anything else I have said this afternoon.  I can see it written clearly like a scripture in his eyes.  I know Agarus all too well to be fooled by the emotionless expression that he wears, learned from years standing in the shadow of his brother and late father in the courts.  

 “Very well then,” Agarus says with a stiff nod.  “Perhaps you are right.  Maybe we will just run into each other during sunset prayers. Good luck with your training.”

 I feel the emptiness like a sudden chill when he leaves.  I want nothing more than to call him back and apologize for how harsh I am being, but instead I burn the image of Agarus walking away from me into the back of my mind and do not breathe again until he rounds the corner.

 Perhaps Agarus may care little of rumors and his reputation because he only honors the truth, but I know that what they whisper is not entirely a lie.  I know that whatever is between us has blossomed past boyhood frivolities and that we have flirted with that forbidden line on several occasions. I know that when the priests and courtiers speak of the way we look at each other and the time that we spend together, nothing can be truer.

Hey everyone, here is a teaser of what I have been working hard on with @jahnadraws. It is an illustrated short story about a Mongolian centaur working under Genghis Kahn. It is a queer romance as well ;)