Zavier

Zavier gripped the railing of his ship, glaring at the Sea Siren. Why was she here? With the curve of the port, he had a perfect view of the ship. It sat there in its berth, taunting him.

Had Alwyn docked it there simply to taunt him? Of course she had. Their last two interaction tangled in his mind, the highest emotion of happiness followed by the deepest despair.

Now she was in the West Isles. There to torture him, knowing he wouldn't be able to think about anything other than her. Sense her presence in the city. Feel her eyes on him as he went to meet the royal family. Went to meet his betrothed.

"Your Highness."

Prying his fingers off the railing, Zavier turned. Jayis stood holding out Zavier's cape. It bore the full moon of Loria and symbolized who he was as Prince. Zavier wanted to rip it from Jayis' hands and hurl it into the sea.

Fighting down the urge, he allowed Jayis to drape the cape over one shoulder and secure it across his chest with a gold chain. The weight of it felt heavier than any shackle.

"It is time, Your Highness," Jayis said.

Zavier nodded, but before he could descend to the main deck, Jayis gripped his shoulder in silent comfort. Though it reminded Zavier he wasn't alone, it did nothing to alleviate the suffocating pressure in his chest. His guard formed up around him as he left the ship. Waiting for them was a group of horses. As they all mounted, Zavier glanced back once at the Sea Siren.

The sun lowered in the sky as they rode into the city. The streets were packed with citizens all eager to see the Lorian prince. Women hung out of windows, waving and throwing flowers. Little children shrieked and tried to run alongside the procession. Every color burst around them in the leaves on the trees to the vibrant fabrics the women wore.

"I look forward to living here," Casian said, smiling at a girl.

All the guards chuckled in agreement, except Brigin who had a fiery girl back in Loria he wouldn't betray. Despite the foreboding Zavier felt, he smiled a little. The women here were beautiful with their cinnamon skin tone, light eyes, and auburn hair.

But Zavier found his smile fading, his mind drifting to one girl with dark blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and blue eyes.

As they approached the palace, Zavier was grateful that decorum didn't dictate that he smile. He knew he wouldn't be able to, not as he met the girl he would marry while thinking of the girl he loved.

Compared to the boisterous energy of the city the nobles in the palace were gracious and self-possessed. They all bowed as Zavier entered the lavish ballroom and strode towards the dais where the royal family stood. Jayis's presence beside him kept his head held high when all he wanted to do was run away and find Alwyn, escape into the ocean's fold.

All Zavier's lessons in etiquette let him flow through the introductions with an easy manner. When it came time to start the night's festivities, he held out his hand to Princess Vienna without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Only the two of them danced that first dance, everyone looking on. It couldn't be denied, Vienna was everything a Princess should be, stunning, poised, and composed. Zavier felt like a fraud of a prince in contrast to her.

Only when he danced next with her younger sister Lydia, did Zavier begin to relax. Lydia, like her brother Reen, took after their Seau mother with their richer skin tone and darker eyes. But that was not what made her different than Vienna. No, there was a liveliness about her, like she was a bird about to spread her wings and soar away. There was a hint of wildness about her.

Zavier felt a prick of longing. If he were to marry one of the sisters, he would have chosen her. With her, he knew he could be more himself, he could show the side of him that wasn't always perfect, wasn't always the Prince he knew he should be.

Vienna carried herself with such a royal bearing, Zavier feared he'd always be caged around her, stuffed into the role of prince rather than husband, friend, confidante.

Lydia beamed up at him without a care in the world and Zavier hated having one more choice taken from him.

But nothing of his thoughts ever came through in his manner, he acted as he should all through dancing, dinner, and more dancing. He never showed how trapped he felt. Never betrayed that he wished someway to break the ties that bound him to this family.

Then in a cruel turn of fate, his desire was answered as he witnessed the royal family cut down, one by one. Watched as shock brightened Princess Vienna's eyes and heard her as she cried out then went silent.

Pain flared through Zavier's side, ripping him into reality. A moan escaped his lips and he sucked in a breath as the pain eventually faded into an intense ache. Every inch of him felt weak and sore. He swallowed, his throat raw. One arm felt chilled except for his hand that was encased in warmth. He peeled his eyes open. Gradually, the room around him took shape and it wasn't one that he recognized.

He couldn't sense the motion of the sea and knew he wasn't on the ship anymore. The room was large and dim with the setting sun. He lay in a wide canopy bed with soft feather pillows cradling his head and thick blankets wrapped around him. The scent of metal and something savory drifted in the air. He had no idea where he was.

Slowly, he twisted his head to the side, wanting to understand why his hand didn't feel chilled. The answer surprised him but warmed him.

Alwyn sat by his bed, her fingers locked with his. In the glow from a candle on the table beside his bed, Zavier could see the exhaustion in her eyes. He could also see that the angry fire in her eyes she'd tried to burn him with lately was snuffed out.

"You no longer hate me," he croaked.

"What?" she said, taunting, though her eyes turned glassy. "You think 'cause I've spent endless hours at your bedside hoping you'll live means I don't hate you? I told you I planned to hate you always."

Zavier struggled to smile but it took much effort.

"I am alive, that means you have to at least forgive me," he said.

Alwyn tightened her hold on his hand. "Always."

This time Zavier did manage a smile.

With Alwyn's help, he drank some water, the coolness soothing his parched throat and reviving him a little.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"A former first mate of my mother's, Hawk," Alwyn said. "The ship was damaged in the fight and we weren't going to make it to Loria, so we sailed to the closest port, the Seau Islands."

That explained the unfamiliarity of his surroundings.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Bates didn't make it," Alwyn said, quietly. "Everyone else took a few wounds but nothing too serious." She dropped her gaze. "You don't need to worry, your betrothed survived."

Princess Vienna's face flashed in Zavier's mind and his heart jerked in his chest. She was alive? She was here? How? But the ballroom...he'd seen her...he'd heard her...how...Zavier couldn't understand the meaning of the statement, his thoughts made slow by the pain and tiredness.

"How is that true?" he asked.

Alwyn gave a low chuckle. "I don't think Wilder would let anyone touch her while he was still standing."

This only added to Zavier's confusion. Wilder had saved Lydia, not Vienna. So then why did Alwyn say Vienna had survived? His head hurt at the tangled mess of it all.

Alwyn let go of his hand, misreading his torrent of emotions.

"I can tell her to come see you," Alwyn said. "The Princess has been as worried about you as I have."

Zavier closed his eyes, wishing that he could think straight. Vienna was alive. And if she was alive that meant that they were...

"I thought she was dead," he said. "I saw her die."

The grief of having to watch Princess Vienna murdered turned Zavier's voice thick. The dream memory lived too vividly in his mind, it was all he could see.

"No," Alwyn said, no longer looking at him. "Lydia is alive and safe."

This brought Zavier up short and he stared at Alwyn through a fog of bewilderment.

"But Princess Vienna," he said, slowly. "She is alive as well."

Now Alwyn stared at him confused. "Who is Princess Vienna?"

Zavier wanted to go back to sleep, too weary to handle Alwyn's fake ignorance.

"Lydia's older sister."

Alwyn furrowed his brow, baffled. "I thought the whole royal family was killed."

"They were, but you told me Princess Vienna was alive."

"No, I told you Lydia was."

"You said my betrothed survived."

"Yes, Lydia."

A long stretch of silence passed between them, both of them frowning at the other as if they were mad. Alwyn thought that Lydia and him...Through the throb of pain, Zavier caught hold of a shred of clarity. He blinked at Alwyn, his face clearing.

"You thought Lydia was my betrothed?" he said.

"Isn't she?"

Everything clicked for Zavier: Alwyn's dislike of Lydia, her avoidance of them on the ship. He laughed and instantly regretted it as his side burned with pain. He gritted his teeth against it. When the discomfort subsided, he opened his eyes. Alwyn sat with her arms crossed, looking pleased that he hurt since he'd laughed at her.

"That is why you have ignored her, isn't it?" he said. "You thought we were betrothed."

She scowled at him. "How was I supposed to think any differently? You were going to the West Isles to meet the Princess you would marry. You showed up on my ship with a Princess."

Zavier smiled again. There was a fire in her eyes again but this one kindled with defense and jealousy. He preferred this over the worried exhaustion.

"You wear jealousy well, Wyn," he said.

She kicked his bed but winced in apology as Zavier closed his eyes, bearing through another spike of discomfort.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Zavier kept his eyes closed, all too aware of where everything hurt.

"That sounded like an apology," he said.

Alwyn unknotted her arms and let out a breath. "It was one." Leaning forward, she reached for his hand but hesitated, lowering her eyes. "If Lydia is not your betrothed, does that mean you aren't promised to anyone?"

Zavier heard the hope hidden in her words, it was a hope he hadn't dared think about. But still, he slid his fingers between hers. He knew every callus and line. Knew the slenderness of the fingers that so easily wielded a sword. She locked eyes with him as she gripped his hand. Zavier felt a mountain of things he wanted to say to her surge up from his heart.

A quiet step and a cleared throat sliced through the moment, halting Zavier's words.

Lydia stood in the doorway, a tray with a steaming bowl on it in her hands. She no longer looked like a dirty-faced boy; her hair fell in loose waves right above her shoulders and she wore a simple dress. What hadn't changed was the circles under her eyes and the grief that lived in her.

"Simon saw that you were awake and told us," Lydia said. "I offered to bring you food. Fynn says he will come to check your wound once you've eaten."

She shifted uncertainly as she glanced to Zavier and Alwyn's joined hands and away. Zavier pulled his hand back, feeling guilty that Lydia would see them when he had been engaged to her sister. Despite Vienna being dead and the arrangement being political, it felt like a betrayal.

"Alwyn, your brother wished to speak with you as well," Lydia said.

Alwyn stood and gave Zavier one final glance. There seemed to be so many things that needed to be said, but now wasn't the time. Alwyn paused before Lydia, almost like she meant to say something, but slipped out of the door without a word. Lydia drifted over to Alwyn's empty chair and hesitated. When Zavier tried to reach for the tray, a spasm burned in his side, and grunted in pain.

"Don't," Lydia said. "I can help you."

Zavier eased back and nodded. Setting down the tray, Lydia added pillows to the one behind his head, helping prop him up. She perched cautiously on the edge of the bed next to him, searching for signs she might jar him.

"You do not need to worry," he said.

She spooned some broth and lifted it to Zavier's lips. He accepted it, the heat of it flooding through him, making him relax.

"I'm glad you're alive," she said, quietly, dipping the spoon into the bowl. When she raised the spoon, she lifted her head and Zavier saw how her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'm tired of people dying around me."

"Then for you," he said. "I am glad I lived."

Lydia's lips twitched but dropped back to their somber line.

"How long have I been asleep?" Zavier asked, wishing to divert her thoughts.

"Three days. We arrived in port yesterday evening."

Zavier sipped the offered broth, feeling his strength slowly return. Lydia fed him in silence, her movements caring. When a trickle of broth spilled down Zavier's chin, she swiped at it with her fingers.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Zavier chuckled, but stopped abruptly, remembering how it hurt.

"Feeding me does not seem to fit your position as Princess," he said.

Lydia turned her face away, the spoon rattling against the bowl. She pressed her lips together then met Zavier's gaze.

"Did you know that Bates died?" she asked. "He died fighting the sailors. Fighting to help..."

Zavier understood the unspoken word. Bates died in order that she could live. He understood that type of weight, the burden that pressed her down. Not because she'd earned something but because she'd been born to the right people.

"Zavier," she said.

She looked at him and all he could think of was how she'd seemed like a bird about to fly away when he'd first met her. Now she looked like a bird who had fallen out of a tree.

"Do you..." She hesitated. "Do you ever wish that you weren't...that you didn't have the...that you could be..."

Zavier's heart tightened. He knew. He knew exactly what she asked. All those unfinished questions were ones that ran around his head all through his life. Questions that made the world around him feel too small, too constricting.

"Yes," he said. "I have. I do."

Startled, Lydia jerked her head up. Something like hope flickered in her eyes.

"Truly?" she whispered.

Right then Zavier could see how her grief had been forgotten. He wanted to keep it at bay for her, for just a moment longer.

"Yes," he said. "When I was little, I always hated my studies. I irked my tutors by running away during lessons. I aggravated my parents by refusing to act as all my brothers did, as a Prince should. I am not sure there was a person in the palace I did not manage to annoy in some way or another."

Lydia lightened, escaping her past by entering his.

"My mother is Eldin, the traveling horse trainer kind. When I was ten, my parents decided that I needed to see the hardship that other boys faced, to see how blessed my life in the palace was with people caring for me. They sent me to my grandparents, along with a few guards, to get a taste of the un-pampered life." Zavier smiled. "Their plan did not work as they wanted it to."

Interest glowed in Lydia's eyes and it was the first time she resembled the girl he'd met.

"I loved that life," Zavier continued. "I loved being out of the palace, away from the stuffy politics and stiff clothes. I loved running around without shoes to confine my feet."

Lydia smiled tentatively and Zavier found he couldn't look away. It made something in his own grief lift. There was hope that the sorrow wouldn't be forever.

"I wonder how my sister would have reacted to hearing this," Lydia said. "To her disapproval, I often ran around barefoot." Her smile saddened. "Little did she know that she was to marry a vagabond Prince."

Lydia's light dimmed and the room somehow felt colder than a moment before.

"I was never the same after I came back from my grandparents," he said, wanting to bring back her glow. "I was more restless than before, to the point when I was thirteen, I boarded a ship and hid in the cargo hold."

Surprised, Lydia raised her eyebrows, swept back into his tale.

"The ship belonged to Alwyn and Cyrus's parents," Zavier said. "I knew them from times they had visited the palace. I knew they were safe. Alwyn found me and helped me stay hidden until we were too close to the next port that it was pointless to turn around. It would be easier to send word with another ship."

Zavier remembered how Captain Isla had stared at him, silently furious and how Duke Raif had laughed so hard he cried. Alwyn had stood by him, defiant and willing to take whatever punishment her parents gave her. That had been the start. He'd slowly given his heart away to her, piece by piece from then on.

"Did your parents plan to lock you away forever after you returned home?" Lydia asked.

"No, but there were a lot of angry words. After days of being kept in my rooms, my parents came to a decision. If I agreed to train as an ambassador I could travel with Captain Isla and Raif every few weeks as they performed tasks for the crown. I saw my way of being free and took it."

Lydia didn't speak, her gaze distant.

"That's what I wanted," she said. "To travel, to be my family's ambassador..."

Tears filled her eyes and she stood, gripping the tray.

"Thank you," she said. "For sharing your story." She blinked and a tear slid down her cheek. "I believe you would have been perfect for my sister, she needed someone who was free."

Zavier didn't know what to say. What could he say? He was free now and his freedom had come at a high cost, one he'd never wanted to pay.

When Lydia left, she took all the room's warmth with her, leaving Zavier with a chill that dug deep into his bones.

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"Being brave doesn't mean you go looking for trouble."

(Try telling that to any of my characters! *cough* Carter *cough*. Also this is from the Lion King)

Oh happy day Alwyn finally knows the truth! Zavier is alive! Lydia is...well she'd still struggling... but hey! At least there were some positive things! You must tell me your thoughts on it all! 👑⚔️🛡

*falls on the floor exhausted*

Jeez luweez I thought Alwyn was going to never know the truth and she would always be angry! At least that's over, it's annoying how misunderstandings can cause so many problems.

She didn't go as far as to apologize to Lydia but hey! baby steps!

What did you think of Zavier's backstory, or history with how his parents tried to do the best for him?

(I know someone of you thought they were being too cagey with him, I hope this helps remind you that his parents are still the wonderful characters you remember. If you don't remember them then go read A Vagabond's Tale.)

A question for you: What is one funny quirk you have?

Reader question from ErinFowl204: Are you enjoying all these torture chapters?

Resposta da autora (Portuguese): At first, yes because it made things really new and interesting for me.

Now, I'm tired and I want my characters to be all happy and unbroken again but they are being a bunch of butts and not doing that.

I guess I only