sword ◦ larry stylinson

I

         first chapter

        "YOUR HIGHNESS," THE PATISSIER CALLED out for the prince. The feathery-haired nuisance had stolen at least three or four pieces of these large cupcakes that are supposed to be given to his sisters.

        The prince munched on the sweet delight, his other hand preoccupied with two more between his fingers. "Your other Highness's can wait! But bake them another batch for me, yes?" before he's off to wander about around the field, watching as the lords scurry off gracefully to where they were assigned according to their post.

        It's almost past two in the afternoon and he knew he's going to train when the clock ticks three and he's supposed to keep the food down but it's not like he cared.

        As he gave up on his third and last cupcake, he gave it to a flustered-looking servant, who only nodded and let the prince give the dessert to her. He spent the last thirty minutes of the clock walking around the large fields outside the castle and letting his stomach rest from any food and his mind from any rebellion.

        "Your Highness." The thick accent of his mentor called out to him, carrying two swords, one in each of his hand as he walked over.

        "Zayn. Good afternoon." Louis greeted, nodding as he took his usual sword from his mentor. The black-haired man had been with him as a trainer for about three years. He had been holding a sword since he was thirteen with his father until the king ran out of his interest and found him his own mentor.

        The raven-haired man was oddly glum, other than his strong and elegant demeanor he always seemed to wear every day. Although, Louis didn't mind it.

        They started immediately. They held a brief eye contact, mostly consisting of Louis arching a challenging eyebrow before Zayn advanced towards him with his sharp blade upheld. His mentor went for a fore swing and a back swing. Louis dodged the first one and met the move with his sword, blocking Zayn's second move. They went on and on, stepping back but stepping forward again, their arms swinging and avoiding the possible hits they can get. They were not wearing any safety armors or any shield for that matter, but Louis classified that it's only play, don't be so pensive.

        They stopped when Zayn accidentally struck the prince on the forearm, his skin tearing open with a small cut. Louis dropped his own sword, his free hand coming up to cover the slight wound as he hissed in pain. "Goddamnit."

        "Louis, goodness, here. Here I'll--" Zayn finished himself off as he pulled at Louis' other arm which wasn't bleeding continuously.

        But as they were about to go through the doors of the castle and to the castle's doctor, Louis pulled himself back gently, slowly stepping back as he saw an unfamiliar face in the corner of his eye. He had a sharp eye, if you can't tell.

        "Is he a thief?" Louis asked nonchalantly as he eyed the tall fellow who was carrying two sacks of what appears to be coal. He was dressed in some dirty white long sleeved linen shirt, rolled until his elbows which makes his arms look dirty, too. Over his clothing, is a thick black leather apron. His knees down to his calves are covered with knee breeches and his feet with leather shoes. 

        Zayn followed Louis' curious gaze. "No, Your Highness. He's a swordsmith here. Now, please. Come with me. I wouldn't want the king suing me because of my existence."

        "It's a cut, Zayn." The prince rolled his eyes at the already distressed man. "It is not big enough to spill out all my blood and flesh."

     "Harming royalty in any way is serious business, Your Highness, and you are royalty if it happened to have slipped off your mind." Zayn wanted to scold the prince, probably hit him across the head so it occurred to Louis that he's the prince of England and he should feel superior.