TWO
The Ten Kingdoms were at peace.
And that was the thing; peace had lasted too long. Joran felt something unpleasant getting ready to rise in the horizon, to throw the Ten Kingdoms into turmoil.
After the year of mourning, Joran had waited another two years before thinking about finding a consort. Erindore had been a good woman, and their union had been one of love. This time his marriage would be one of duty, an alliance to make his kingdom strong.
His councilors hadn’t been too happy about Zigag as option for an alliance at first. Zigag was the northernmost island of the Ocean Kingdoms while Doriar sat at the opposite end, being the southernmost of the Land Kingdoms. It seemed like an overreach but considering his need for ironclad ties with one of the Ocean Kingdoms, his options were considerably short. Gikid, Kaskal, Busar, and Munus stood between Zigag and Doriar. Munus, Doriar’s closest ocean neighbor would have been the perfect ally, since its King, Adder, and the King of Lakoneh, Bracken, were married, and any alliance with one would secure it with the other.
Those two already powerful kingdoms had not been united into one because there had always been Ten Kingdoms, five Ocean Kingdoms and five Land Kingdoms, and the creation of such a superkingdom would toss the region into utter chaos. Still, a marriage alliance with Munus would have enhanced Doriar’s position amongst the Ten Kingdoms. Adder’s firstborn was in love with Bracken’s nephew. The real option, his daughter (the one he was raising as his and Bracken’s), was only five years old.
Similar underage-royals situations happened in Gikid, Kaskal, and Busar; the oldest of that group was currently ten years old, and Joran couldn’t wait another six years until that boy was of age. Therefore the only truly plausible alliance by marriage had been with Zigag. The twin princes were intelligent, well-trained warriors, and endowed with masculine beauty.
Joran sniggered; he still remembered the princes’ powerful, sweaty bodies glistening under the summer sun during the previous year Ocean Kingdoms Games in honor of Erin and Apheilon. Just because this was a political move it didn’t mean he could not have a true prize at the end of the bargain. Besides, a man in his bed would be almost a soothing presence since every woman would certainly make him miss or remind him of Erindore. Yes, a male consort was the safe option for his heart as much as he was doing this to secure his people’s future.
Nonetheless, Erin and Apheilon gave their children things to endure before any reward. Joran had requested Landra’s hand, knowing full well that Orrin was the crowned prince. Joran was aware that the mere insinuation of trying to get for himself the future King of Zigag would have put him in a suspicious position with the other kingdoms. Orrin would never do anything to harm his brother; therefore, he would protect Doriar’s interests once he became King.
Besides, the Munus-Lakoneh situation was a deviation from the norm; Kings (or heirs apparent) did not marry other Kings.
The only hiccup in an otherwise relatively perfect plan had come when Ouranio decided to give Orrin instead of Landra to Joran. Polite circles would call Orrin energetic; people who called things by their names would say the pretty prince was a self-centered jerk whose only purpose in life was to fuck anything with a hole in it.
From the moment Joran began to contrive ideas for an alliance with one of the Ocean Kingdoms he sent spies to gather intelligence all over. Soon Orrin’s sexual stunts convinced Joran it had been the best idea to not intend to pursue the heir apparent but his twin brother who was (by all accounts) a gallant prince in high contrast with his rakish twin.
Nonetheless, you couldn’t really value something if you didn’t work hard for it, right? Now the gods had put Orrin in Joran’s path. Ouranio had been clear that part of his decision stemmed from his inability to control his son. “He’s not a bad kid,” the King of Zigag had said. “His dick, on the other hand, has no self-control!”
At least the other King hadn’t tried to be deceitful. He had a problem; Joran wanted an alliance— his option to get the alliance was to deal with Ouranio’s problem.
Oh, I will.
“My King,” Joran’s Right Hand, Yndyre, bowed as he entered the chamber, “we are ready.”
“Where are my children?”
“They await you at the palace entrance to say goodbye, sire.”
It was time for Joran to go to the Port City of Me Diell to receive his betrothed.
****
The gentle mountains of Munus emerged as the sun rose. Orrin had his chin propped on his elbows, and he had been by the port railings long before the first stars began to disappear, listening to the ocean and the billowing sails. The winds had been favorable since the Treptikó left Na Sever, and he would reach his destination later that day. All Ocean Kingdoms had their capital cities by the sea; Orrin’s future husband would encounter him in a port city and take him in another great parade to Doriar’s capital city, Chryso.
As the morning became brighter, a dark silhouette with large wings appeared, growing bigger as it moved toward the ship.
“Gryphon!” yelled one of the crew members.
A message from Munus.
Orrin moved closer to the prow to receive the communication.
The feathered beast alighted, and the messenger dismounted. “I have a message for Prince Orrin of Zigag from Prince Deron of Munus.”
Guards surrounded Orrin as he approached the messenger. The Ten Kingdoms were at peace, but “peace” was a relative term amongst them, so you could never be too careful. “I am prince Orrin.”
The messenger went to one knee. “Prince Deron request permission to come aboard for a visit.”
“Will Prince Deron come with his escort?” Veldar, head of Orrin’s guards, asked before Orrin could open his mouth.
“You protect your prince. We protect our prince,” the messenger stated matter-of-factly after a nod.
“I don’t like it,” Veldar growled.
Orrin rolled his eyes. “Deron is my best friend. He could have come straight, and I wouldn’t have minded. He’s been a nice boy following protocol. Veldar, do not make this something it isn’t,” he admonished his guardian. He turned to the messenger. “Please tell your prince I’ll happily welcome him.”
The messenger moved to his feet, bowed, turned to climb on his gryphon, and was swiftly in the air.
As Orrin saw the gryphon return to Munus, a series of clicks and whistles starboard made him run athwartship. His orca, Desta, undulated playfully beside the ship. “Hey, boy! Where have you been? We’re getting closer to our new home!”
King Joran had promised to find a way to keep Desta close to Orrin. He wasn’t sure how the King of Doriar would accomplish that, but it would certainly earn him some points. The thought of going for a swim to play with Desta crossed Orrin’s mind, but Deron would be there any moment, and he didn’t like to start things he couldn’t finish properly.
An hour later, Orrin sat with his best friend in the sumptuous deckhouse of Zigag’s flagship.
“I did not see that coming,” Deron said with a snort. “I mean, Joran is not old, but I never thought you’ll end up with a grey-haired man.”
“Well, if my informants are correct you were lucky. Joran just wants an alliance with an Ocean Kingdom. It could have been you.” Orrin waggled a finger at Deron. “Just because you and Fern have been so vocal about your love, you were not contemplated as a sacrificial pawn.”
Deron did a guard-me-from-evil sign, swiping forward his right thumb from under his front teeth. “Blessed Father Apheilon keep darkness away from me!”
“So dramatic,” Orrin cackled.
“First of all, I am not being dramatic. A prince is not dramatic,” Deron recited in his most theatrical voice, making Orrin cackle even more. “And you know what they say about him, right?”
Oh, gossip! Yes!
“Let’s hear it.”
“He eats raunchy boys like you for breakfast!” Deron roared and started tickling Orrin.
“Sweet Erin! Stop it! You’re more brother of Landra than me!” Orrin tried to fend off Deron’s tickling attacks but was failing miserably and ready to pee himself right there. “We are supposed to be princely, remember?”
“Seriously,” Deron stopped, “you, Prince Orrin, Rider of narwhals, Sun of Zigag, and Fucker of Royal Guards, are asking me to be princely?” His face was one of mock disbelief; he even had a hand over his chest in fake outrage.
“I do not,” Orrin straightened himself, “only fuck Royal Guards. I have ample preferences.”
Deron seemed unable to hold it any longer and doubled cackling with a massive snort. He was rolling on the deckhouse floor a heartbeat later.
Orrin moved to his feet. “Honestly, Deron. I’m trying here to pour my heart out, and you’re making fun of me,” he huffed.
Deron heaved as he turned into a sitting position, pulling his knees toward his chest and wrapping his arms around them. They had grown to love each other as brothers from early on, and this was a moment when Orrin needed Deron’s mature approach to things. “It is very difficult to take you seriously when your biggest problem is that you’re not going to be able to fuck everything that moves but are gaining a handsome husband and a kingdom.”
Orrin tilted his head and studied Deron; he didn’t roll his eyes, though. “I heard the same arguments from Landra. I need something different.” He crossed his arms. “I already had a kingdom waiting for me, remember?”
“And sooner or later you would have needed a spouse,” Deron added.
“At least it would have been someone I chose.”
“You don’t know that. It could have been duty, just as Joran’s. He’s doing this out of duty to his people. Can you understand that?”
Yes. Orrin knew that being a ruler wasn’t always about doing what was best for you but what was best for your subjects. “I’m not a total drone, you know. I’m aware of those things.”
“Then what is the real problem here?” Deron perked up, apparently reaching fixer mode finally.
Orrin took a deep breath. He sat again. His eyes settled on a very attentive Deron. “I am afraid. I have lost the ability to decide for myself. I know I put myself in this situation, but it doesn’t make it less scary. I am in the hands of another man now. Am I still my own person? Will I be able to make decisions?”
Deron rested his chin on one knee. Orrin could see the inner workings of his best friend’s brain looking for a soothing answer. The silence extended; it became so complete within the deckhouse Orrin could clearly hear the men outside and below deck, even other orcas, which had probably come to play with Desta. “I think we’re analyzing the problem from the wrong perspective.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have been raised to be kings our whole lives. Think for a moment. You’ve already been King for so many years, had kids, lost the woman you loved, and now for your people, you’ve decided to marry again, and a bratty prince is what’s thrown in your lap as response. What would you do?”
Put that way, there was not much to say but “Fuck.”
“Exactly,” agreed Deron.
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