The Swineherd: Fragment

[tsaiko]

I'm not going to mention all my plans for this story because I might jinx them. However, I thought you'd all like to know that yes I have started writing again. And it's a fairytale!

EDIT: Also, I should mention that the pairing of the Emperor/Nightingale (m/m) won in the poll. This is perfect for what I have in mind.



"Do you know what I need, Shaw?"

Shaw looked up from where he was composing a letter to his mother. Raban sat in a chair in front of the fire, a glass of wine in his hand. The chair was several decades out of style, and the cushion was beginning to look a little worn, but Raban insisted that it was the most comfortable chair in the keep. Shaw thought the prince deserved better, but the kingdom of Alaia could not afford to throw out good furniture.

Earlier, when he was entertaining the five barons whose baronies comprised the kingdom, Prince Raban had worn a rich tunic of red velvet with gold buttons and black leather lacings. That had been discarded about an hour ago. Now Raban lounged around in tight pants and a loose linen shirt. His boots, per usual, had been kicked off as soon as he crossed the threshold of his room.

The prince gave Shaw a look, arching one eyebrow. Shaw flushed realizing he'd been caught staring instead of answering the question. "My apologies, Prince Raban. What was the question again?"

Raban laughed. It was a good natured laugh, just like the Prince. "I see writing that letter has taken up all your concentration," he teased. Shaw could feel his cheeks begin to prickle with a blush. "I was asking if you knew what I needed."

"A better sense of humor?" Shaw replied tartly. That earned him a chuckle before Raban turned serious once again. He started into the fire and absently swirled the wine in his glass.

"No. I think... I think it is time I find a wife."

"Oh." Shaw felt his heart stutter and his stomach drop. Well. He knew this day was coming. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be coming so soon. "Are you sure you are old enough?"

"I am four and twenty years of age. There are men six years my junior fighting as knights. I am plenty old enough to find a wife." Raban looked into his wine. "I thought you'd be pleased. After all, you are the one who is always reminding me of my duty to my kingdom."

That hurt. It was true, but it hurt. Shaw had done everything in his power to keep his attraction to the prince a secret. There was nothing more ridiculous, more pitiable, that a servant who loved a prince. "I am glad that you are thinking of the future of the kingdom. Who did you have in mind?"

For a long, long moment Raban looked at the fire. Shaw could see the lines of tension around the corners of his mouth. "She has to be beautiful, and if not beautiful at least pretty. Talented, of course, in the womanly arts. I would prefer someone who would not mind running a household since there is no chatelaine for the keep. I wouldn't be adverse to a good political marriage." Raban took sip of wine. "Being royal is a must."

"That's a long list of requirements," Shaw said. He was very impressed that his voice managed to hold steady. "Are you sure that there is anyone who meets all those requirements?"

"I already have." For one long moment, Shaw's mind scrambled trying to figure out when and how Raban had met this girl. Surely he would have noticed. Surely. "I am going to ask the Princess Belaphoebe to marry me."

"The King Cadoc of Tasgall's daughter?" Shaw would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so unfunny. Tasgall was the largest, richest, most powerful kingdom on the continent. "Isn't she a little young still?"

"At fourteen, she is young," Raban conceded. "But already she has suitors at her door. If I am to win her hand in marriage, I must make my case now rather than later."

"How exactly do plan on making your case?" Shaw asked. He set the pen he'd been using down, less some other unpleasant surprise make him drop it and spill ink across his carefully written letter. "Alaia is a fine kingdom, don’t get me wrong, but it is not rich. King Cadoc will not hand his daughter over to a kingdom than cannot provide for her."

The idea gave Shaw more hope than it should. If Raban were turned down, maybe he would grow discouraged and give up for a few more months. Or years. Years would definitely be better.

"But I have a plan. The princess is known to be fascinated by bird and flowers. I plan on sending my mother's nightingale and the rose bush that grows on my father's grave." Raban's voice grew hoarse as he remembered his parents who had raised him. "This will be a good match. One they would have wanted for me."

"What of love?" Shaw asked. Raban gave him a sharp look. "You have never even met the Princess Belaphoebe. You're parents loved each other. They would want you to be with someone you loved."

Raban drank the rest of his wine in one swallow before setting it sharply on the table next to him. "Once I have won the Princess's hand, I can work on winning her heart. I have never done it before, but it cannot be so hard to make someone fall in love with me.

Softly, so even the Prince could not hear it, Shaw replied, "You already have."