#rodax

King Roland rolled the document and patted the table with his fingertips, looking for the ribbon.

“I’ll inform our steward as soon as possible,” he said. His fingers found the ribbon and he wrapped it around the paper. Roderick amused himself for a couple of seconds watching the King tie it into a bow. “It’s nearly lunch time. Would you care for a quick tour of the castle before joining us?”

“Gladly.” Roderick smiled. Dinner and breakfast had been delectable, and made him look forward to mealtime.

He followed Roland, but did not pay much attention to the lengthy digressions on the castle’s architecture and decorations. Not until they entered a roomy hall with a stained glass window did he attempt to tune back into what Roland was telling him. The thing was grand. Its pieces filtering through a magnificent stream of colours, and the picture was put together so masterfully the faces bore minimal distortion. He immediately recognized Roland and one of the children, though her name did not come to mind. Had he seen her somewhere in the castle?

“Magnificent!” he exclaimed. “You must lend me your royal glassmaker for a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you!” Roland beamed at him. “I’ll inform him to be prepared for—“

“Dad? Are you there?”

Roland turned around. Roderick looked around in curiosity. The voice sounded awfully familiar.

“Sofia?” Roland answered.

The name echoed in Roderick’s mind. Unless he was sorely mistaken… he glanced at the stained glass window again, and realisation dawned.

Sofia of Enchancia appeared from one of the side corridors and rushed towards them. She looked somewhat different in a tiara and a dress, but there was no doubt this was the child who had come with her aunt to steal Thundercloud. Chasing her had cost him Tempest and Allegra, not to mention walking all the way back to his castle.

But that was in the past, and he had managed to acquire not three, but four new horses. Seabreeze he loved the most, as she was of calm temperament, and had taken to him fast. He hoped Gavin was keeping up with her exercise schedule.

“Princess Sofia,” he greeted, and bowed his head.

“Prince Roderick?”

She seemed taken aback. Roland put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Do you know each other?”

Roderick waved his hand and smiled at Sofia. “We’ve met,” he said, holding her gaze. There was no need to trouble her father with the details. “How is your horse, er… I’ve forgotten his name, I’m afraid.”

“Minimus is well,” Sofia responded quickly. Her face relaxed.

“Did you need something, Sofia?” Roland prompted.

“Oh, right!” Sofia looked up at her father. “Baileywick is waiting for you in the throne room. He says it’s urgent.”

Roderick’s face became sombre. “I guess I have to go and find him, then. Sofia, can you take our guest to the dining room? I’ll join you as soon as possible.”

“Sure, Dad!” Sofia said, and turned towards Roderick. “Follow me, Prince Roderick.”

“Lead the way, Princess.”

They exited the hall. They went through two corridors in silence, then Sofia stopped and turned towards him. There was a scowl on her face.

“I hope you haven’t gone after Mazzimo again!” She had probably waited for her father to be out of earshot.

Roderick could not suppress his laughter. He waved his hand at her and propped it on his hip. “Thundercloud?” he insisted, just to tease her. “I haven’t, I can assure you. A horse in the stable is worth two in the wild is what I like to say, and I stand by that. I have plenty of horses, I can’t spend all my time chasing after them. That would be dreadful.” The mere thought made him scrunch his face.

Sofia held his gaze for a couple more seconds, squinting at him as if it was going to dig up a lie covered under his casual attitude. “Okay, I believe you,” she said finally.

“Splendid,” he clapped his hands. If only everyone were this agreeable.

He was about to inquire about her riding lessons when he caught a movement out the corner of his eye. Unless he was having a wild hallucination, or his entire visit to Enchancia was a dream, he had just seen a bowl of fruit disappear through an open door. He was about to dismiss it as a silly thing when he heard a soft thump, and in through the door rolled what looked like a… pear.

Interesting, he thought.

He pivoted on his heel and headed towards the door. He expected it to be closed by the careless servant that had forgotten it open. It was not, and when he reached it the pear was still there, tangible and real.

From the door issued a dark wooden staircase that spiralled up and out of sight. The walls had no windows and if Roderick had to guess, the staircase probably led up into one of the smaller towers of the castle. He looked at the pear again, but it gave him no clue as to what it was doing there. Intrigued, he ascended the stairs, higher and higher, until he found himself on the landing of a spacious, yet dark attic.

Numerous portraits were propped against the stone walls, and the beams supporting the ceiling were decked with garlands and bunches of evergreen. On the other side of the attic, a man was floating next to one of the beams, conducting the decorations with his hand. The garlands snaked around, obedient, untying themselves from the beam as if they were alive.

Roderick’s jaw dropped. “How are you doing that?” he asked.

The man swirled around to face Roderick. His limbs and the outline of his clothes were transparent, Roderick noticed, and emitted a soft green light. Behind him, the garland hung limp and lifeless as any other inanimate object with a shred of decency.

“Is that sorcery?” Roderick guessed. He loved his horses, but the ability to fly untethered to another being was extremely tempting.

“Boo!”

Roderick yelped in surprise, and took a step back. Something white had just materialized in front of his face, blinding him in brightness and sparkles. The old staircase creaked ominously under his shifting weight. He waved his arms blindly, groping for the handrail. He had jumped back and gravity pressed him down, but instead of falling he felt something soft press against his backside, and then push him into the attic.

He walked away from the stairs until he was at a safe distance from them. The glowing man floated towards him, until they were at a conversational distance from each other. He was biting his lower lip in worry.

“Are you alright?” he asked. The sound of his voice was melodious in a way that distracted from the words he was actually saying.

“Safe and sound,” Roderick reassured him. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. The man heaved a sigh and turned towards the fluttering creature that had materialized in Roderick’s face. It looked like a white bat, glowing with the same green light.

“Manners, Boo!” the man scolded. “What was that for?”

The bat shrugged mid-flap. “Sorry, sorry. He’s alright though, isn’t he?”

The man shook his head, and looked back at Roderick. “Do forgive him, we’re not accustomed to guests,” he said, gesturing towards the attic. “And speaking of guests… may I inquire who you are?”

Roderick startled. “But of course! Where are my manners? Prince Roderick of Borrea, on a visit to King Roland.” And he fluttered his arms in an elegant bow. “Princess Sofia was giving me a tour of the castle.”

The man took off his hat and bent into a deep bow in turn. “Sir Reginald Daxter Sircliff the Fourth, at your service,” he introduced himself. “But you can call me Dax,” he added, and put his hat back on. His feet stubbornly refused to thread on the ground. “This is Boo, my bat. Boo, can you go and fetch Princess Sofia? She’s probably looking for her guest.”

“On it, Dax!” the bat said, and disappeared with a soft pop.

Roderick could not stop staring at Dax. He also had trouble deciding where to start his investigation. “Why are you two glowing green?” he asked, trying to prompt Dax into some answers.

Dax considered him for a moment. “We’re… well, ghosts,” he said at last.

“Ghosts? But that’s brilliant!” Roderick exclaimed. He joined his hands in front of his chest, and could barely suppress a shiver of giddiness. “I’ve never met a ghost before. I guess the green glow and slightly bizarre fashion sense does seal it,” he mused. Dax gave him an appraising look with a raised eyebrow. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to give up, and closed it. “So what do ghosts do? I thought you were supposed to be scary, moan and rattle chains?”

Roderick’s excitement grew by the second. He hadn’t expected to have an adventure in the very castle of Enchancia. He saw his diplomatic visit in a whole new light, and the time he was about to spend here seemed way too short. He gestured towards Dax, entreating him to speak.

“I reckon most of them are,” Dax agreed. He floated backwards and landed on what seemed to be an exquisite table or a writing desk. All his movements were slow and elegant. There was no rustling of clothes when he sat. A real ghost, how exciting! Roderick cheered in his mind. He took a couple of steps closer to Dax to avoid having to yell for a simple conversation.

“I spend my time reading. Boo likes to sneak off to the kitchen every now and then and steal snacks.” Dax waved towards the half-empty bowl Roderick had seen float off through the door. His tone indicated some mild disapproval, but he did not look especially miffed.

“Ghosts need sustenance?” Roderick wondered. That was something new. He had never heard of food disappearing from their castle kitchens. Maybe they didn’t have ghosts, which was a real pity. Dax looked like an interesting fellow.

“Oh, no, no,” Dax laughed. “It’s something like an old habit, you see? We don’t need it, but we miss the feeling, the taste…”

“I see.” Roderick wouldn’t let death stop him from trying new and delicious meals either. “So what else can ghosts do? Can you make things fly?”

Dax tilted his head and gave Roderick a shrewd look. “Well, we can fly—float, really,—and we can make objects levitate…” He hesitated but did not look away. “But not people.” He paused again. “Well, technically I could lift you by the band of your breeches, but that would be rude.”

“And uncomfortable,” Roderick added. Hanging from the yellow umbrella was all the experience he needed to decide being a ragdoll was no fun. He’d rather fly on a horse if he couldn’t fly on his own. “But don’t you get bored cooped up in here day and night?” he asked, and put his hand on the writing desk next to Dax. He had moved closer without even realizing. Dax glanced at the portraits around them.

“Hardly?” he said, but his tone rose at the end, as if he wasn’t sure he had given the correct answer. “I’m a man of peace and quiet. A good book is all I need.”

He opened his palm and waved it. A book floated out of thin air, opened, turned over a couple of pages, then closed and sank back into nothingness. Roderick’s eyes widened, and he looked up to Dax for an explanation. The latter grinned at him. He looked like a host willing to entertain and for all that Roderick was glad and, admittedly, impressed. And just a little envious.

“Besides,” Dax went on, “not everyone takes to ghosts as well as you, Prince Roderick.” His grin wilted. “You and Princess Sofia are the only living ones I’ve spoken to in centuries. Sofia is such a darling, she even brought me Wassailia decorations.” He nodded towards the garlands he had been conducting into undoing.

“Wassailia was some days ago,” Roderick pointed out. “A jolly good time of the year here in Enchancia, I gather.”

Dax shrugged. “Time passes differently for us ghosts. Got to give Sofia her due though, her holiday spirit is infectious. But it’s high time I take these down already,” he said, and floated away to the ceiling, reaching for the mistletoe.

Roderick leaned his other hand on the writing desk. “Surely you’re not taking the mistletoe down without a Wassailia kiss?” he chuckled.

Dax let out a laugh, his fingers still on the mistletoe. “No one around to kiss, darling, unless you’re offering.”

Roderick scoffed. “Don’t be silly. Of course I am.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers. His heart beat faster.

Dax blinked at him, completely stupefied. The mistletoe in his hand trembled.

“Well, if you insist… can’t reject a gentleman’s offer now, can I?”

He let go of the mistletoe and it stayed in the air where his hand had been. Out of nowhere, his face lit up with a mischievous grin. Something in Roderick’s chest stirred. As far as he was concerned, Dax was no ugly fellow, but the grin... He wanted to comment on Dax’s transformation upon smiling, but the moment he opened his mouth he was flung over, spun in the air, and landed on the writing desk in a perfect sitting position, ankles crossed and everything. His head followed suit and spun, making him grip onto the edge of the desk to prevent himself from falling. Dax floated towards him, followed by the mistletoe, which settled itself over their heads. Roderick blinked.

“What was that for?” he inquired.

Dax’s grin widened and Roderick was, for the most part, mollified. “Apologies. It was the fastest way to get you into a comfortable position.” He floated closer. “I had a distinct impression you were eager to see my humble ghostly power demonstrated, or have I misunderstood?” His voice had gone down an octave. Roderick felt the mood in the attic shift, though he was not sure how or why.

“You are not wrong,” he admitted, “But I can use a warning next time you want to sweep me off my feet.” He offered Dax one of his own grins. His cheeks grew warm. He wondered what Dax’s touch would feel like. So far he could only feel coolness off the air between them.

Dax gave him an appraising look, then lifted a hand and ran his finger under Roderick’s chin. Instead of the touch of the smooth leather glove, there was a cold sensation going through Roderick’s flesh, as if someone had ran something very cold over his skin. He shivered, and leaned away.

“Cold, isn’t it?” Dax inquired. “I won’t hold it against you if you’ve changed your mind?” he offered.

“I don’t go back on my word, sir.” Roderick pouted. Dax raised his eyebrows.

“You sure are something else, darling,” he cooed.

He pinched the end of Roderick’s cravat and pulled it. The knot came undone as if it had never been there; the smooth silk snaked around Roderick’s neck and its other end floated in front of his face. It was so close his exhale made it billow like a miniature sail.

“What’s this for?” Roderick inquired.

“You felt my finger going through you, didn’t you? A ghost’s touch is an acquired taste, I’m afraid,” Dax said. “Let’s do this the old fashioned way first. Close your eyes and trust me with the rest,” he purred.

Roderick did not protest and did as he was bid. He raised an eyebrow, then relaxed his face and closed his eyes. With sight out of the picture, his other senses sharpened. He grew aware of every inch of his skin, the dryness of his lips (he licked them), the movements of his tongue. His fingers scraped the smooth surface of the desk, trying to hold onto it.

Something that felt like a hand pressed into the small of his back and gently pulled him in. His body obeyed and tilted forward, towards Dax, his head following the pull of his spine to keep the balance. His lips fell onto the silk, and the fine material was pressed into them by something soft from its other side. He hadn’t known what to expect. On the other side of the cravat, Dax’s lips were soft and cool. Roderick opened his lips to feel more, and the rub of the silk tickled him. It was quite the tease on the damp, sensitive skin, an itch that demanded attention, and he could only press further and kiss deeper to get rid of it. The coldness of Dax’s lips became tangible, an unyielding presence that was kissing him back with the same growing urgency. The confidence behind it sent a shiver down Roderick’s body, made him shift in his seat. He was having a hard time coordinating kissing and breathing, yet craved more of that cold untouchable mouth he could only have through silks and fine fabrics.

A hand clasped the nape of his neck under the collar of his jacket and pressed, just enough for him to feel how real it was. He gasped, then the initial surprise melted into contentment, then want and greed, more of this, more Dax, more contact. He opened his lips wider and tried to slip his tongue out but the silk was there to stop it. A moan of displeasure rose and died in his throat. He pushed at the silk with the tip of his tongue, and teeth closed around it. He flicked his tongue over them, then pulled it back and drew breath. He tried to nip onto Dax’s bottom lip with his own teeth, but Dax retreated. The touch of silk disappeared.

Roderick sucked in a shuddery breath and opened his eyes. His cravat was lying his lap. Dax was still in front of him, looking… satisfied, to say the least. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Roderick imagined Dax’s cheeks had gone very pink, compared to the rest of his complexion.

“Darling, you kiss like a man on death row!” the ghost murmured.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Roderick said in a low voice, quickly growing smug. “This was quite something. I thought you weren’t one for mingling,” he teased.

Dax bobbed in the air. “I must admit, I was worried I might be out of practice, but that wasn’t the case.” He crossed his legs so it looked like he was sitting on an invisible chair. “Is your curiosity satisfied?” he asked conversationally, as if nothing exceptional had happened.

“Curiosity? Yes.” Roderick crossed his arms on his chest and leaned back a bit. Blood and adrenaline were rushing through his body, and he could feel his skin heating up. He could kiss Dax for days. “But I’ve hardly had enough! Aren’t there other ways to kiss me?”

Dax shook his head. He took off his glove, revealing an elegant pale hand underneath. He reached for Roderick’s mouth and ran his thumb over the lower lip. Roderick, who had expected more physical attention, shuddered and drew back again. The ice-cold feeling had sunk into his mouth, and even made his teeth pulse.

“What you think of as true ghost kisses would feel a lot like this no matter what I do,” Dax told him. He put his glove back on.

“But that won’t do at all,” Roderick protested. He tried to stomp his foot but couldn’t reach the ground. “I suppose we simple have to find another way round it, then. Maybe magic. Does this castle have a court sorcerer?”

Dax’s eyebrows shot up and hid under the brim of his hat. “I’m afraid I’m not following, darling.”

“If kissing you through a piece of fabric is this good, I can’t imagine what you must feel like in the flesh,” Roderick explained. “To be precise, I would very much like to find out.”

“Darling—“ Dax began, but was interrupted by the sound of steps coming up the staircase. Roderick stuffed the cravat into his pocket, then turned around to see who was coming up.

Seconds later, Princess Sofia’s tiara came into view, followed swiftly by Sofia herself. Boo was right behind her.

“So this is where you’ve been, Prince Roderick!” Sofia said. “I see you’ve met Sir Dax.”

Roderick glanced at Dax, then smiled at Sofia. “Yes,” he confirmed, “A most enchanting fellow.”

He felt Dax’s stare boring into his neck, and his smile widened.

“He’s great,” Sofia agreed. “Would you like to come down now? Lunch has been served.”

“Lovely.” Roderick hopped off the writing desk and went around it to follow Sofia. They took their goodbyes, and he descended down the stairs after the princess.