The Frog

I can fix it!

     A word of warning! This chapter has some masturbation near the end

     Ambrose hurried down the stairs, a fresh set of clothes on his back, muttering to himself. "I'm sorry about the mud, I'm sorry you were hit, were you hit by the box? Do you need medical attention? Oh, how embarrassing." Ambrose rolled his eyes. He hated talking to the knights and guards, he hated how most of them were not only bigger than him, but their voices rumbled through their lungs and shook him to his core. He hated how they ignored him. They only respected him as much as they needed to, usually brushing him off as a child. He was not a child. Not anymore. Sooner or later, they were all going to know it.

     Ambrose jogged up to the scene. Splattered mud, slowly drying to the grass. Ambrose thanked his lucky stars that it would be raining that night, hopefully washing away the mud. He took Weylin's sword and followed the trail of mud to the stables nearby.

     "Weylin? Are you in here?" Ambrose called, hoping to hear Weylin's voice answer back. He wasn't in the mood to go on a wild goose chase.

     "Yes, I'm in here. Did you need something, sire?" Weylin was the only one who didn't treat Ambrose like he didn't know anything.

     "I just wanted to give you your-" Ambrose finally found the man, slouched over a tub of water, washing his clothes. Dirty, blonde hair covered Weylin's brown eyes like a curtain, toned muscles working at his clothes and Ambrose couldn't help but rake his eyes up and down Weylin's form.

     "Oh, my sword, thank you." Weylin took the weapon, setting it to the side. Ambrose finally shook himself from his daydreams and nodded, returning to why he came here in the first place.

     "I wanted to apologize as well." Ambrose began. "I didn't see you when I dropped the box outside."

     There was a moment of silence.

     "That was you?"

     Ambrose's cheekbones turned a bright red. There was no reason to come out here. Weylin didn't even know it was Ambrose who dropped the box. If he had just kept his mouth shut and minded his own business, this wouldn't be so embarrassing. He should have never come down here, he should have just ran off to his room to change and return the sword. He should have just shut up about the mud.

     "Sire?" Weylin pulled Ambrose out of his thoughts.

     "Yes, that was me." Ambrose cringed at himself admitting to what happened. There was no way to go back now, he's gone too far into this.

     "Oh." Weylin's voice sounded too disappointed for Ambrose to be able to just walk away.

     "I'm really sorry, my brother just-" Ambrose stopped, trying to find the words to go forward.

     "Don't be sorry, Highness." Weylin interrupted. "I'm here to take whatever you throw at me. Even if it's mud from your brother's window."

     "Yes, but-"

     "And if you wouldn't mind, I have things to do." Weylin slid past Ambrose, putting his wet shirt back on.

     "...you forgot your sword again." Ambrose muttered as Weylin opened the door.

     Weylin paused, hurrying back to collect his sword, his ears a bright red to match Ambrose's cheekbones. "Good evening sire." Weylin quickly bowed and shut the door behind him.

     Ambrose let out an exasperated sigh, sucking his teeth. "Well if he hadn't gotten in the way." he mumbled, thinking of a million excuses on how this couldn't have been his fault. "If he had just stayed with his group for training, this wouldn't be a problem. Of course there wouldn't be any mud if Damien hadn't put it there." But Damien didn't deserve the blame, he's not even ten yet. "Damien wouldn't have gotten the idea if that frog hadn't been in that pond. So it's the frog's fault." But the frog is just a frog, it doesn't know what it's doing. So who's fault was it? Certainly not Ambrose's he wouldn't have it.