Between Lions and Men

13: pining for battle and the war-cry

Menoetius

"Shh. Go to sleep," I say, stroking his golden hair as we lay in the sand. He presses his head into my chest, face sticky with sweat, and flushed. But he's tired now. Finally tired. I stroke the curls gently, playing with them one by one, as I stare up at the stars glistening above us.

"I sleep and you're not there," he mutters.

"Shh," losing me for two minutes in battle was traumatizing. Well, marrying his wife was worse. He was without me for nights on end. I didn't know he needed me that badly until then.

"Do you remember when my father talked of sending you away? And we'd already pledged never to be parted? So we tried to run away?"

"I do, yes," I say, smiling at the memory. I had been with them for a year, and they were to send me home. My father had sent for me.
It didn't occur to me he'd react as he did. "We'll run away, then they'll never take you from me!" he cried, cheerfully, arming himself with stolen fruits and his father's old jacket. It wasn't until then that I realized he even liked me.

I later realized, nobody had ever treated him like a friend. Just a prince. And me? I showed up, accused of murder, bruised knees, perpetual scowl at anyone, determined never to be pleased with anything. Of course, everyone was a bit afraid of him, whispers were his mother was a sea witch. And as it happened, he'd never learned the art of not being all that he is. He beat everyone at everything, fencing, boxing, races, swimming of course. He was always the golden star, and no one dared contradict him. That didn't make for a terribly fun time for a small boy.

And I showed up. And in the words of my father I have 'no regard for my personal safety' and 'absolutely no filter on that saucy mouth'. He may be right. Anyway, I chased after the prince, losing every race, but doing it while mouthing off to him.

"I will catch up with you and I will slaughter you Your Royal Goldenness Best Dancer in the Kingdom!!! Let's see how sweet your smile is when I knock your teeth out," I shouted, out of breath, as I chased him around and around the fields. He loved it. Turned out, he'd never been insulted before in his little life, nor had any cause to get in a really good ruff and tumble boxing match and get all filthy. Did he win every time? Of course he did. Did I learn my lesson? Certainly not. The next day he'd beat me fair and square at fencing so I'd sock him in the nose and we'd be off.

I'm a bit older than him, his father thought I was picking on him, having no idea the rage filled demi-god child he was parenting adored the excuse to actually let loose and brawl and chase and brawl until neither of us could breath.

He'd never had a friend like that, one he could sass and insult back, knock over, push off a roof, down from a tree, just to get back up with a fresh insult based on his pretty hair and pretty girlish face.

I was an unbreakable toy that was just as ready to start mischief with him as start mischief at him, be it tripping him by knotting up his sandals, or flicking apple cores at him while he did his lessons. As I said, I was older, and so as older friends do, I seemed so worldly, and invincible.

He'd been preached to about his power so he thought all mortals were made of glass. But me? He could play with me with no fear of me breaking, not for any virtue in myself, but in that I was too stupid and proud to show any pain. And no matter how many times he bruised me or bested me, I was still happy to lie on the roof and look at the stars while eating spoils we stole from the kitchen.

So, as it happened his father thought we were fighting all the time, and sought to send me away some other place as I was violent and a miserable excuse for a person (that part's true, my prince just likes me like this).

And so we ran away. We only got so far as through the wood. Of course his father's men found us. Dripping with rain, he stood up to his father, shouting that he was keeping me forever.

"You said I could have anything I wanted in the whole world!"

"That was when I asked if you wanted a present, on occasion of you turning eleven, child—,"

"Well I want him! He's small and doesn't smile except for me and I love him," clutching me like a ragdoll while I stood there dazed. I'd never heard anyone tell me they loved me before. To my father I was a menace, someone who was uncontrollable and would wind up dead sooner or later, to my mother I was a bastard best left in my father's care, nothing more, nothing less. So, no. No one had ever said they loved me much less to loads of people while holding me off the ground despite me being taller than them. "And he's mine forever and ever and ever. Even if mother says no. He's mine because I love him. See? Just look at him---look at how perfect he is."

No one had ever called me perfect either. Nothing like it.

"We'll see what your mother has to say, child," the old man laughed, though. He just laughed. I suppose he knew what we were even before we did.

No, his mother was not thrilled with me. But at some point, despite my many failings, I became known as the good decision maker of the two of us, though that's only because I have about an eighth more sense than he does. That's not a lot. But whatever. We're still alive. That's what counts isn't it?

"Remember the night we stayed up till dawn underneath the sycamore? When we went back we thought they'd all know." The first night he kissed me. Of course he kissed me. And I told him not to stop. He is very good with direct commands that is one very good thing about him.

"They probably all did," I say, amused. Now that I think of it. At the time we thought we were terribly clever. We always do at the time. But in retrospect, returning, faces flushed, lips swollen from kissing when we didn't quite know how, blushing and nearly holding hands the whole day through. Yes, I'm quite sure they knew.

"How can that memory be as sweet as when it happened? Or is it sweeter for the remembering? And will this night be just as sacred?"

"Every minute we have is sacred, prince," I say, rubbing his neck.

"I asked Neo if he had any particular friends. He didn't answer. I suppose that means yes. We thought we were quite subtle too."

"You told everyone you met that I was your best friend in the world," that was my introduction to everyone in his father's court. Me trailing behind as strawberry blond curls bounced before me.

"This is my very bestest friend!!!!" he would say, holding his hands out to present me like I was his new pet. I realize now I was. I'm all right with that. "He's been sent to stay and he's staying forever."

"Why did he get sent?" was usually reply. The reason was I killed a boy over a dice game but other than the murder part of my personal history I was quite boring and shy.

"I don't care! He's mine now!" Hugging me then to complete the introduction and make it abundantly clear I belonged to him.

"That's true," he mumbles, face into my chest once more, eyes drifting closed, "I suppose I did. Oh well. I hope he's not lonely. I was so lonely before you came. I hope he makes a friend to spend the long summer days with."

"I hope he does not meet a poor scruffy murder child and adopt him, no, I think that once in a family that's enough—,"

"Shut up, I adore you. I'll kiss you till you can't speak if you're going to say rotten things about my favorite person ever."

"A rotten, no good, bastard—," I begin so he kisses me silent. We both knew I wanted it that way.