The Prince's Gift (EDITED)(A Yurio x Otabek Fanfic)

Chapter 2, The Castle Garden

It became a habit for the Prince and the knight to be in the range every evening. For a week straight, Sir Altin spent an hour each night watching him practice. Each loose was powerful and perfect, his form truly flawless. Sir Altin had never seen a more skilled marksman anywhere in all the Five Lands, which was quite the feat. The two stayed in semi-comfortable silence the entire time, Yuri only slightly discontent to shoot with his new guardian standing a few feet away.

The Prince was not at all what the warrior had been expecting. The sixteen year old was a few inches shorter than him, and considerably smaller as well. His clothes were often horribly askew, his shirt severely untucked from all the times he'd pulled the bow string back, and his once tight pony tail was as disheveled as the rest of him by the end of each day. All in all, he looked almost... adorable.

"Do you really have to stand there and watch me the whole time?" He growled, firing off another arrow before turning to face the older boy.

"I could go stand out in the hall if you would prefer it, My Prince," the knight suggested levelly, just as he had every night.

Yuri scrunched up his nose, hastily putting his bow away and fixing his untucked shirt. He brought a hand up and tugged his pale hair free, letting the long strands fall into his face and over his shoulders. Just like that, he instantly shifted form, going from the serene warrior to a bitter adolescent in no time flat.

"I don't need protecting," he declared, storming passed Sir Altin in a huff. He wasn't sure why, but he had held his tongue until then.

The Knight sighed and followed him, making sure to keep a safe distance from the spunky royal. Though he did not physically explode, there was a violent blast that came from his bursts of anger. Sir Altin always did his best to respect the fact that Prince Yuri needed both physical and emotional space.

"You might not believe you need me, but your father asked that I keep watch over you. Is it not better to be safe than to be sorry?" Sir Altin countered, very carefully choosing his words.

"What is there to worry about?" Yuri demanded, rounding on his unwanted companion,"You're the first person to come through the main gate since I was four years old! Who's going to come in here and try to hurt me?"

The warrior remained expressionless, analyzing the other boy. He was tense, his hands balled so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his shoulders noticeably raised. The older boy was no less frustrated, though he absolutely would not let it show. Trying to face the hot-tempered royal with anger would be like attempting to put out a fire with a box of matches.

"Just because it's never happened to you, doesn't mean it won't,"the knight spat,"Your great grandfather is a shining example of why such cockiness should be cast aside."

The younger's frame drooped, his angry gaze falling to the floor. His great grandfather, who had passed on long before him, had been assassinated in his own bedroom, supposedly by one of his servants. King Abram refused to talk about it, sticking to the delusion that all within the walls were safe.

Without a word, the Prince turned and began walking off. The Knight trailed him, taking the silence as resignation and keeping his own lips firmly shut. Moments later, the pair arrived at the palace gardens, a calm place filled with strange, albino beauties.

Letania was one of the best places to be in Spring. It was almost never too cool, or too hot, and there were light, warm showers every seven or eight days. No grass was greener, and the country was known for its flowers. The land itself was flat, filled with endless fields, only one very small forest to be found in the entire kingdom.