Chapter 15: Good Intentions

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"Bring whatever blade you wish and prepare to lose, Loverboy."

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It was less then twenty minutes later when the boys arrived back at the dinner one after the other. A decent amount of time separated their entries. The blonde resumed his position at the back of the hall and remained quiet. He didn't have anything to say, no one was talking to him, so it was relatively easy.

He still let his eyes wander back to the boy he loved, who was currently laughing and joking with other people of his social class. Clay didn't mind. At the end of the day, he knew that George would much rather be doing anything else with him.

George would much rather do nothing with Clay then sit through the awful dinners that are arranged.

The brunette wanted nothing more than to finish this meal and spend as much time with his Prince as possible, but his family had other plans. They always do.

His mother whispered to his sister who told George to talk to his mother. A complicated train of mumbled words and lost sentences. After a minute of attempting to talk across the table, the Queen dragged him away, inviting Leila along.

He obliged and followed, of course, he didn't want suspicion to raise at all. After what happened the first time, George would rather die than let him and Clay be caught again. For Clay's sake.

Up the stairs they travelled and George realised they were making their way to his room. He knew it was a mess but could easily lie about the cause. The brunette struggled to piece together why they'd be going to his room of all places. Of all the rooms in the castle, why one so far away?

It's private and hidden from the party, but George was unaware that was something his mother supported. He thought he'd have to interact with guests and have 'fun'.

This was worrying him. Each step they took his breath hitched, his heart hammered and his mind raced. Leila seemed unusually calm and he could see the side glances both his mother and Leila were throwing at him.

Though when the two women looked at each other, a very different expression was exchanged. A knowing one. One that told George he was definitely out of the loop and there was something important he was clearly missing.

They finally reached the top of the stairs and George just froze. His breathing completely stopped. Unaware of what to do or say, he just stood, looking at the floor.

"I trust you have worked out why we're here, George." His mother sighed.

"I haven't, no, I'm incredibly confused." He laughed softly, but not because he thought this was funny, more because the drag of breath after his laugh was needed after he held it for so long.

His stomach was in his throat and he felt sick.

Did they know about Clay?

"I thought that maybe you and Leila could have some alone time together, peace and quiet. Away from everyone else. You know," She looked between the two teenagers, "To bond."

George knew what that meant and a lump formed in his throat. 'Bonding' through intimacy. He didn't want to agree but little choice did he have to object. At least Clay hadn't been found out.

At least the blonde was safe, for now.

Leila smirked a little and took George by his hand, leading him into his own room.

"Thank you so much, your majesty." She uttered before closing the door and watching George flinch as it slammed.

An awkward silence entered the room with them and George wasn't in any rush to break it. He'd rather silence then awkward conversation. Silence over anything Leila had to say in general.

She hurt Clay.

"So, George. Do you want to kiss me now? I mean, I know we've done it before," She giggled and walked herself over to his bed. "But nothing's stopping you from doing it again."

"I actually don't think I should, I feel quite ill and I wouldn't want to pass that on to you. I'm sorry."

"I don't care. We can be ill together. All the more time we can spend alone."

"I just-" George interlocked his fingers and hooked them over his head, holding them delicately against the back of his neck as he walked around the room. "I'm just not really comfortable with that sort of thing, Leila."

"That's why we're here, to get more comfortable. I can lead if you want?"

George neither agreed nor disagreed, just sat down on the bed.

Leila took his face in her hands and brought him in slowly, George prepared himself for another awful kiss. One he didn't even initiate this time. A kiss he wanted nothing more than to avoid.

George's heart felt heavier with every second his lips touched hers. What would Clay say? This is wrong, this is so wrong. He's not enjoying himself, he couldn't possibly.

She hurt Clay.

But she kept kissing him and holding him and suddenly his back was pressed against the headboard. Her thighs were engulfing his as she positioned herself on top of him.

He brought his hands up to cover his face and couldn't help the tears fall as an immeasurable guilt took over.

She hurt Clay.

George pushed her off and slid off the bed, running to the bathroom. He couldn't be more thankful that there was a lock on the door.

He ignored the banging on the door and any words that tried to sweet talk George into coming back out.

He didn't want to. He just wanted Clay.

He bit down on his index finger as he sobbed, so as to not cry out. His clothes were soon sodden with tears and his heart still ached with regret. What else could he have done?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the castle, in a very crowded room, Clay was being hunted. By George's father. A very angry looking King. Right now, Clay was trying his best to avoid that and the anger the King was so easily conveying.

But alas, due to closed doors and Clay's height, there wasn't many ways he could get away. He resorted to standing his ground and looking hard at the King as he approached.

"You, gardens, now." The sharp and demanding tone caught Clay off guard, but he stood tall and didn't portray any signs of weakness.

"Why?"

"A duel with a deal. Stakes are your dignity and ability to breathe on these grounds."

Clay couldn't lie and say he wasn't interested. The king was challenging him to a duel. The stakes being his freedom. How much must the king hate him to want to banish him from his kingdom?

"What do I win?"

"Nothing more than what you have already. You're fighting for your right to stay. I don't like you, have never liked you and I know you like my son." Clay's cheeks inflamed at the mention of George and he clenched his fist in an attempt to obscure his anger.

The king continued, "I'm confident that you'll be leaving these grounds in less than an hour. Bring whatever blade you wish and prepare to lose, Loverboy."

With that final sentence, the king rejoined the party, cracking jokes and telling stories. But whenever his eyes settled back on Clay, a deep hatred swam so very obviously that the blonde had to turn away.

He was about to fight his lover's father for his own freedom.

And the adrenaline told him he couldn't be more excited.

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IVE BEEN SPELLING BRUNETTE WRONG THIS WHOLE TIME

it's meant to be brunet for masculine characters

and

brunette for feminine characters.

I'm not going through and changing it though lmaoooo

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