A tale of song, swords, and flowers

Chapter 7

For the Second time in about as many days, Florian woke up and was not entirely sure where he was. Bright light filtered through the wispy curtains of the window off to his left and a pair of voices were speaking quietly. His mouth was parched, his limbs heavy. With no small amount of effort he rolled over and fumbled for the cup of water he saw perched on the nightstand, flinching as a large hand snatched it up out of reach.

"Here you are good Lady!" The Cup Was gently pressed into his lips by a  still blurry figure and he drank greedily.

"Thanks!" He slurred, rubbing his eyes in order to clear the sleepy haze still in front of them. "You are a most kind gentleman!"

With much improved vision, Florian looked up at his mysterious caretaker and nearly choked on his own tongue. Curly hair glossy as Ebony silk fell in a messy ponytail over one shoulder, a Stark contrast to the man's sapphire eyes, angular features, and bright smile. On his Brow rested a simple golden circlet, leaving Florian with absolutely no doubt as to the identity of the individual he was currently staring at.

"Forgive me sir, but either I am hallucinating or you are Prince Baneir of Aquila?"

The sound of a soft chuckle caused  Florian to turn his attention away from the prince and catch sight of a wild mess of gold hair sticking out from a pile of blankets on The other bed in the room.

"Don't bother second-guessing yourself bard... he's real and Baneir, you're an idiot!"

The prince simply raised his eyebrows and sauntered back over to Tristan's bed, physically shifting the good knight's feet out-of-the-way before sitting down.

"That is you are an idiot your highness!" He corrected, Voice teasing, hand patting what was presumably Tristan's blanket swaddled ankles."I think I'll just blame your lack of decorum on the sleeping draft that old healer tricked you into drinking."

Without a word Tristan disentangled one Sunkist arm  from his blanket cocoon and promptly presented the crown prince with a very rude hand gesture. Florian was well awake at this point, watching the pair with an Open mouth. Instead of calling his guards to clap the knight in  irons, Baneir just laughed and clasped Tristan's smaller hand in his. "If you ever scare me like that again Little idiot, I swear I will have you on guard duty for my oh so infatuated little sister until you reach retirement age!"

Shaking his head in what appeared to be genuine exasperation, Baneir jumped lightly to his feet and strode over to the door. "I'll have some lunch brought up for you, now do everyone here a favor scamp and stay in bed, you don't need to go fainting on us... again!"

With a little wave he slipped snickering from the room, leaving florian to goggle at a now glowering Tristan. "Gods damn horses ass!" He muttered, pushing himself up into a seated position with a grunt.

"Pardon me... !" Florian murmured, words for once in his life not coming easy. "I don't mean to pry but, what the hell was that all about?"

Tristan twisted toward him, unbound hair falling haphazardly over his shoulders in disorganized tangles. Dark circles rested heavy under his eyes and the sparkling green of his gaze seemed muted somehow. It was humanizing to see the other man at less than his best, no swords and armor to be found. He was dressed in what appeared to be a loose fitting linen tunic without sleeves, revealing the alabaster wrap of a bandage curled securely around his surprisingly slender upper arm,

"Baneir and I have known each other for years, he was around a year ahead of me in training and I
Often stayed with his family at The palace during The holidays."