Karma (m/m)

Chapter 3

One year ago, Wolfgan found a nymph on his garden.

Or so he thought, at first glance. It had been a tough afternoon, his father hadn't joined them at yet another hunt for a couple of ogres trespassing the forest. His clothes were damp, there was mud in them, and he'd been circling around the fortress trying to find Haomath so it wasn't too far of to say stumbling across Wolfgan right then wasn't very wise.

Scowling and placing his hand on top of the handle of his sword, he watched the creature from a distance, a safe distance where it couldn't see him back. The creature was tall for a nymph, slender and male, judging from the broad shoulders. It didn't notice he was around, to busy joining a bunch of roses in it's hands and inspecting them. The blond long hair fell all over his back and the gentle, soft white robe adorned with silver painted crochet reminded him of a virgin sacrifice. The nymph, however, proved itself to be an elf when Wolfgan noticed a pointed ear twitch in his direction. Blue-ish grey eyes looked side to side to find the cause of the noise he heard, and Wolfgan was surprised to see the intelligence, the amount of experience in those eyes.

Wolfgan knew now. It had to be Prince Geoffrey, the one that came to open a temple in Hull, and had been staying in the fortress trying to persuade his depressed father with sly, whore-ish manipulations, Wolfgan thought. Elfish mannerism that would surely confort his father, Prince for sure knew exactly what the was doing, and he hated to see someone using his weakness against him.

Wolfgan watched him turn his back and go back to touch and analyze the hullian flowers. I had to be him. He left the garden before doing something he'd regret.

The second time he saw him he had been rosy in the cheeks and swaying in his chair every so often, right across from Wolfgan. It lit a strange fire, that sight, but the arrogant words unnerved him who was used to respectful or fearful politeness. This was neither. But yet, he couldn't help his eyes from straying every so often to be beauty's collarbone that showed when his robes parted, or to the glossy blond hair that escaped from the silk black ribbon he'd tied it with, or from the way those grey eyes lost themselves in his when he searched for them, glazing over, so obviously drunk.

Wolfgan was angry with himself and answered every one of his questions tersely, curt and firm. He knew he was riling up the prince, and in some ways, he wanted that.

Geoffrey kept coming to Hull, not taking a no for an answer. He came too soon after Henry was gone, too soon. The searches were getting sparse, no one could find him, not even with the fat reward Haomath had promised to give for the finder. It was to a depressed, lost and angry Wolfgan Geoffrey obliviously treated with insults, tantrums and sharps comebacks. Unknowingly enticing and healing the beast inside him with healthy distractions. Wolfgan followed him around like a puppy under the excuse of watching out for the enemy.

It didn't take too long for him to understand that they could be so beautiful together, once his prince was tamed. Wolfgan would make sure of cherish and treasure him. He'd been so alone, sometimes he thought he might forget his own name, but Geoffrey could fix that. He was so sure of it.

He wanted him.

The last night he saw him, Wolfgan was sitting on his throne drinking red wine which he didn't like at all, but he was given, while the people commemorated his 25th birthday on the vast dining hall. The hall was loud, filled with laughter, music and screams, but his attention was focused on one particular blond head in the crowd.

He looked delectable that night more than any before, because he was dressed in white and because his cheeks were rosy in inebriation and because he not only looked like but he was a virgin. It would be the last time Wolfgan would see him. Wolfgan knew that, he knew Prince Geoffrey, as any other of the royal families of the southern countries, was pure and guarding himself for one day to marry an unworthy woman, a soft and fragile one that wouldn't be able to take care of him, to give him what he needed.