forum what a grand adventure // oxo // open

Started November 30, 2023 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

Arthur cleared his throat and straightened himself, having becoming frozen and immobile under the weight of her stare. He double-checked to make sure she was out of earshot before he commented. "Tell me about it. I worried she would turn me to stone if I looked directly at her for too long," he mumbled— something he likely would not have said to another soul. He almost half-regretted having said it here, but— it wasn't like Lucian was going to tell anyone.

"I was beginning to think she was going to send you by yourself." Arthur turned to face Lucian, thinking of everything that had just happened. "She sees enough in you to send you after her own daughter. And to offer the girl's hand in marriage when you succeed. So you must have certainly impressed her," he offered, trying to throw in something reassuring or light-hearted after the chilling interaction with the Queen.

"You would think that she would be some sort of ice queen," Luc hisses as he grabs Arthur by the bicep to lead them out of the intimidating throne room. "At least she managed to listen to us. At least you get to come with me–it's almost like we're boys again, isn't it, Arthur? Dreaming of some quest to save an heir!" He swipes his arm through the air as if he can imagine it fully. Well, at least in his dreams it's not a maiden's hand he'd be earning. Maybe they could just be great friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Luc is sure Princess Calwin is a kind individual. Luc's sure she's pleasant and admirable but she's still… well. She's…. a she. And there's that terrifying fact that's been lingering in the back of Luc's brain since adolescence. He always thought that he would be fine. Live as a bachelor until he got killed on the battlefield and nobody would think anything of it. They would weep at his grave whispering poor Luc, never got to marry and have children– while Luc would be cackling from beyond the grave, for he finally managed to evade the crushing societal norms that threaten to suffocate him.

But, well, this mission's going to be rough. Oh, why couldn't he have let Arthur win their spar? Why did it have to be Luc and his impeccable speed and fabulous hair–it should've been broad, bearish, heterosexual Arthur to win the princess's hand in marriage, not weasley, sunshine gay boy Luc. Maybe the Queen somehow knew of where his affections lay–maybe this is all one big, grand scheme to get him to conform–

But that. That's ridiculous. Why would the Queen want anything to do with Luc's private, nonexistent love life? It's as if Luc blinks and he's in the barracks, standing before his comfortable bunk that he's spent the last seven years sleeping in. It's a lofted bed with a fine wooden desk beneath it. On the table's surface is a bundle of books and writings that he would always entertain himself with in the late nights via candlelight. Luckily, his three roommates (one of which, his lovely friend Arthur) have never minded Luc's hobbies. They've always been politely disinterested, only occasionally voicing an urge to know what he's writing.

"When did we get here?" Luc murmurs to himself, finally releasing Arthur's bicep in favor of unlatching his chest. "I must've zoned out for the entire walk here." Lost in his thoughts… it happens occasionally. Luc's imagination gets away from him and the real world seems to skip forward until he finally comes to his senses. "Arthur." Leaving the latch to his chest wide open, Luc turns around. "Arthur, I don't think I want to marry the Queen's daughter." He says the fact as simply and plainly as he knows how. "But how am I supposed to even refuse such a prize? The son-in-law of the Queen? Please, Arthur, she'll kill me! Or well, she might as well kill me for declining her generous reward–"

(The way you write is genuinely so good and satisfying to read)

Arthur stared at Lucian, his eyes wide and brows slightly raised. Lucian didn't want to marry the Queen's daughter? But why? Was it the Queen's coldness and idea of being a part of her family? Perhaps a fear that her daughter had a similar iciness about her? Arthur, himself, could think of plenty of reasons why he wouldn't want the offer, but— why not Lucian? Unlike Arthur, Lucian had the charisma, the popularity, the charm, the looks— everything one could ask for in the perfect candidate to marry into the royal family. Why would he pass up an opportunity like this? Certainly it wasn't the reaction he'd expected.

An old scene replayed in Arthur's head. Several years ago. Him and his father in a heated exchange over a lady Arthur never loved and never would.
"She's a nice girl, Arthur. Pretty, too. And comes from a good family. And she's interested in you."
"I can't."
"Why the hell not?"
"I don't know." Arthur's voice was calm, empty. "I just can't."

"Then don't marry her," Arthur said, the words rolling off of his tongue, surprising himself. "I'm sure the Queen won't be too happy if you turn down her offer, but we'll wait until after you've rescued the Princess. As cold as she is, surely the Queen won't kill the man who saved her daughter, even if he does turn down the princess' hand in marriage." What was he doing? Advocating for Lucian to turn down a direct offer from the Queen? It was a privilege— an honor— that most people would have given anything to have, and here Arthur was, telling Lucian to decline it? Yes. Apparently so. Whatever it took to get this tangible weight off of Lucian's shoulders.

"It's a big decision, Lucian," Arthur added on. "You'll have the whole journey to think it through. Maybe you will change your mind when you meet the Princess. But if you don't… we'll figure out some sort of solution to convince the Queen not to go through with the marriage arrangement." He said this, partly, to reassure himself that there would surely be an answer to the problem, something that could be done to get Lucian off the hook. It bothered him to think of his friend being pulled into a lifelong arrangement that would only leave him miserable. "But for now, we only have a little time to prepare for our adventure. That much, we can't back out of." He patted Lucian's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "We should focus on one thing at a time, my friend."

(omg thank you alkdsjf theyre just so silly and luc is an overdramatic bastard)

Luc stops suddenly at Arthur's words, not even registering that he had been pacing back and forth. "Just as simple as that, don't marry her?" Luc's hands go up to his hair, pulling on it just slightly before patting it back down into its usual place. Everything feels tight and warm and god, Luc can't marry this woman–Luc's fingers go straight to the buckles on his armor, pulling at the straps until they fall into a loose pile at his feet. He nearly trips over his breastplate as he stumbles to get his iron boots off. The dozens of hinges across the toes and ankles get caught on his shoes beneath and nearly send Luc falling into the wooden post of his lofted bed. Finally free from his metallic armor, Luc stands up straight in his simple blue and gray clothing, hair mussed and far from his usual elegant self. "I am going to have a crisis over something I've wanted my entire life."

A quest, that is. Not marriage. Marriage has always been entirely out of the question ever since he knew he had eyes. He had been, what, eight years old and first enrolled to become the newest page in the kingdom. A tall, broad knight wearing the kingdom's crest had walked by, his face a little red and sweaty from training, but he had the most beautiful eyes and smile. Luc never learned the man's name, he just knew he perished at war only a few months later, by the time Luc had become a squire. Luc doesn't even know what Calwin even looks like! Does she enjoy poetry and music (none of which would be written about her) or the occasional jig when the whimsy strikes him. Does she have an ugly laugh? Is she allergic to peanuts? God, there are so many what ifs and Luc is half tempted just to throw himself onto his bed and scream a little.

Instead, however, he turns back to his open chest and digs out his large leather satchel that fits his favorite horse especially well. "I assume that our belongings won't be backing themselves, will they, Arthur?" Luc tries for a light hearted jest as he pushes away his internal crisis in favor of a much more menial task. "We'll need a change of clothes, enough rations from the kitchens, sugar cubes for Daphne, a few extra daggers in case you lose any–" Luc sighs and drops a bundle of clothes onto his desk. "How are you feeling about this?" Luc turns to Arthur, the reality of the other man's presence really just now setting in. "I just… I just sort of dragged you into this without really, erm, asking you." Luc almost shuffles nervously.

(I would watch a tv show about them in a heartbeat)

Arthur stood in place and observed as Lucian went about taking off his armor and having some sort of episode. Still fully clad in his own armor, Arthur only offered a slight, closed smile at Lucian’s question— something he didn’t do often, but just enough to remind everyone he actually could have a personality when the moment was right.

“I wasn’t expecting to get sent out on a quest today, but I like having something important to do,” he admitted. “So I’m in good spirits.” Even though he hadn’t been personally picked by the Queen to go, the fact that she and Lucian had both still opted to include him made him feel at least somewhat important. He didn’t really have anything to particularly base his value on in life except for his performance as a knight— as far as he could tell, it was his only redeeming quality— so being allowed on such an important task of rescuing the Queen’s own daughter gave him some sense of value.

Arthur walked over to his own area and began to unhurriedly remove his own heavy armor. It occurred to him that things would be a lot different between himself and Lucian if Lucian were to accept the marriage arrangement. Despite Lucian’s obvious anxiety about it now, he’d have a lot of time to think about it, and perhaps even decide that it was what he wanted to do with his life. Maybe he would come to love the Princess between there and here.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Lucian before returning to his armor. Would Lucian change his mind? If he did, this adventure would be their last one before Lucian married into the nobility and they hardly saw each other anymore. The thought dampened his mood.

Arthur tensed as his chest plate dropped to the floor with a loud metallic thud.

(omg i'm sorry the holidays hit me like a brick)

Trying to hold in his most melodramatic sighs, Luc opts for sighing as he debates which songbook to take with him. Of course, he could take both but that would take up the room where rations could go. Or a knife. Or maybe some sort of space he can leave for Calwin's handkerchief when she presents it fabulously or whatever maidens do when a burly knight comes to save her from a hulking dragon–wait, there's no dragon. Right? There should be no dragon. A detail that important could've possibly slipped the Queen's mind. There's no dragon, Luc reminds himself over and over again as he finally decides on the second songbook. (He has both of them memorized.)

"There's no rumors of any dragons, right?" Luc absolutely has to ask aloud because Arthur will ground him with rare smiles and firm reassurances. That's always what Arthur has been to Luc's frantic flying–a rock, a tether, a solid hand to help him keep his feet on the ground. A mountain of a man to Luc's fleeting breeze. The earth and the air. The rocks and the wind. Hell, even just turning to his fine friend is enough to calm his racing heart. Damn his mind for planting spiraling seeds. This is a quest! God, Luc should be dancing with joy instead of mentally beating himself over the head with a stick for winning that stupid spar. He should be singing and writing a new melody and already planning which routes would be the most fun to take through the tangle of forest between here and Ethel. He should be doing literally anything beside trying not to cry and drown himself in the drinking well.

(no need to apologize!! I hope you had a great Christmas)

“Huh? Dragon?” Arthur had to repeat the question to make sure he heard it right, arching a brow at Lucian. Was he— Lucian, the ever-unbothered— really having that much anxiety about this whole ordeal? It was an important mission, but from the way the Queen spoke there were no major enemies to fight them when they went to secure the Princess. Certainly no dragon. That was why two knights were enough. Right?

“I wish,” Arthur replied as he peeled off the rest of his armor, leaving him in his unremarkable dark gray and reddish-brown clothes underneath. “I bet that would be a legendary battle. But, unfortunately, no. The Queen made no mention of a dragon.” He stopped what he was doing and stared at Lucian for several seconds, brows pinching together as he tried to read and understand what could be going on in his friend’s head. Basic anxiety around marrying the princess— even a downright disinterest in it— would make sense. But Lucian generally wasn’t one to become so unwound… and before the quest had even started, at that!

“Whatever you’re worried about— the Princess, the dragons, or the absence of dragons—“ Arthur paused, trying to figure out what it was he was trying to say. Another reason he didn’t like to talk much— sometimes his words tended to get jumbled. “You can handle it. You’re the best of us all, and I’ll have your back.”

Arthur moved on to grabbing a worn out leather satchel and opening it up to get a visual of how much space it had. Pretty roomy— plenty enough for him, as he tended to pack minimally. “Surely it’s nothing beyond the two of us.”

(asdklf yeah it was pretty great!! I hope yours was great too!!)

Luc sighs, already relaxing as Arthur gives him small reassurances. "This really shouldn't be effecting me as much as it is," he admits, hanging his head and letting his perfect blond hair drift lifelessly around his face. "I've always wanted a quest–I've been dreaming of it since I was a boy–" He brushes his hair back and studies Arthur for a moment. "I think… well, I think if the reward wasn't so… god, sudden? I'm not ready for marriage, Arthur? I'm not ready to marry into any sort of royalty? I'm not meant for kingly duties? I don't even have the approval of our fellow knights, how am I supposed to win the support of an entire country?" He waves his hand before sarcastically bursting into a small set of rhythmic steps. "What am I supposed to do, sing them a ballad and dance a jig and then I'm suddenly their court jester?" With a defeated sigh, he shoves a pair set of clothes into his bag along with his second songbook.

"I think… I think this is why I need you on this trip with me." The admission takes a moment to break free. "I can't do this alone, Arthur, especially with this kind of prize on the line. I need you to…" To make sure I don't do anything stupid. To make sure I don't purposefully fail. To make sure I don't go picking fights just for the sake of fighting– "To keep me on track. You know how my mind wanders sometimes. Also, who else am I supposed to bounce my ideas off of?" An easy smile makes its way to his face, melting away any sort of fright or concern that could've previously occupied his expression. Putting on a show, right? That's what Luc's always been good at. "Do you want to go check on our horses? I think they might need to be prepped before dawn. We also should stop by the kitchens and ask for some rations." The chefs are always more than willing to give Luc a little extra on his plate if he smiles extra wide. Plus, Luc just needs to be away from this room. He doesn't think that it's doing anything to help his spiralling thoughts.

Arthur carefully packed a few messily folded changes of clothes into his satchel. "Yeah. It'll only take me a minute to pack. I'm not taking much." He glanced around the room, going through a mental checklist as he tried to think of anything else he could possibly need. Aside from clothes, rations, and the supplies needed for their horses— as well as the obvious armor and weapons he'd be carrying on his person— what else would Arthur himself really have need for? And, as he said, it took him only a few minutes to get together any loose odds-and-ends he would want to bring along.

"All right," he said after a moment. "The horses, then. I'll check on them now. Are you coming along, or are you going to get rations first?"

Luc raises an eyebrow as he contemplates exactly where he wants to go first. On one hand, the kitchen staff would likely appreciate the early notice but Luc knows how lonely his beloved mare gets when she's not visited by midday. Well, he supposes that she can wait just another hour while they stop by the kitchen. He slings his packed bag over the railing of his bunk and straightens his hair one last time in the mirror long overdue for a clean. Knowing their other two roommates won't do it, Luc might just go into a cleaning frenzy in the middle of the night to try to take his mind off the best and worst thing to ever happen to him in the history of ever. "Kitchen?" Luc asks, voice pitched slightly high with the sheer nerves of the scenario, which is entirely odd because he has never known himself to be nervous ever. (Well, there was that one time with the handsome barkeep when he was out on a mission. He took to the stage and sang his favorite ballad and they made eye contact quite the number of times. Hell, Luc will still get butterflies when he thinks of the man's smile.) "I think it would be smart to go there first, and then we can go to our horses. Pick up the food in the morning before we leave, right?"

Before he can get himself more upset than he already is, he grabs Arthur's arm in a familiar gesture and leads him out of their small barrack, passing their two roommates finally returning from the field. Luc offers his best smile to Rhys and Marcellus, but it hardly feels entirely genuine. It's barely afternoon when Luc looks to the sky, squinting at the sun's bright light. "So, Arthur, any meals you'll ask for specifically?" Of course Luc is making small talk, god. He used to shudder at the thought of it, but now it seems to be the only promise to prevent him from drowning in his own mind. "I think some jerky will last us, but it's hardly the most appetizing provision." Running his mouth, because he doesn't know what else to do, Luc continues. "Of course, I think I'll request a thermos of that fine chicken soup that Gilda makes for us every second Friday. She can be a prickly one, but I think that I can get through to her." It's far from the second Friday, and Luc knows that his charm hardly works on the hard-ass chef known as Gilda, but a man can dream. He's going to keep his optimism, damnit, even though he's facing the option of certain death or–the worse option–a permanent relationship with not only a woman, but the heir to the ice queen's throne. Luc represses his shudder with a smile. "I know you're a hearty one, so I'm sure Gilda will give us extra meat." He punches Arthur's bicep and cringes at the sheer awkwardness of the situation.