The king never stopped trying to force his idea of power upon him.

  He cornered Nuada when he was on his way to the glade, and thrust a spear into his arms.

  “We’re going hunting.” He declared while walking forward.

  “Why?” Nuada asked. “The cellars are well stocked.”

  “For sport! For pride, and strength!” Then as he walked by his son, he said so only he could hear, “...and you need both.”

  The king sought to draw out the day, and he succeeded. He knew Nuada would fell any game the instant he saw it, so he sang boastful songs, and had his men clatter their shields.

  Nuada was already tense, worried, and their combined obnoxiousness overwhelmed him. He was amazed to see any game at all within earshot of the group, so when he did, he urged his horse and tore after it like the wind.

  Fear quickened the deers’ stride, and Nuada grieved even as he settled into his breath.

  “Maith dom é.”

  Nuada launched his spear while his horse galloped through the trees… a feat none of them had ever witnessed before. A feat none of them had even heard of before… a feat Nuada had never even attempted.

  His aim wasn’t to impress, or even the kill.

  …It was just to be done with it.

  Even his father couldn't contain his awe as Nuada shot off at a speed he knew none could match.

  He had never liked feeling angry, and he had never felt this angry in his life. Why? He wracked his mind.

  His horse had slowed gradually as he became absorbed in his own thoughts… their frantic yells pierced his ears, and he was present once more.

  “Look at its eyes!”

  Nuada's mouth went dry.

  “It’s not human.”

  He kicked forward with urgency, and leapt off his horse just before the entrance to the path. He didn’t make the landing. He didn’t care. He scrambled forward as the shouts continued.

  “Síofra!” He heard just as he rounded the corner.

  Lasair was on his knees, arms not raised in defence but open, in confusion, in offering.

  The boys didn’t care.

  “You think you can trick us with that face?”

  Lasair flinched. “No, I’m… I’m looking for…”

  They didn’t listen.

  They rushed him.

  “STAND DOWN!”

  Nuada’s voice was like tempered iron drawn across stone.

  To Lasair he looked like one of the Tuatha himself. He stood at the ridge of the path, eyes bright with a cold fury, still covered in grime from the hunt he didn’t want to attend.

  “Tíarna!” The boys called to him as if his order hadn’t been meant for them. “We’ve got it cornered! Finish it!”

  “I said STOP.” Nuada descended the path, for a second, none of them moved, but when Nuada reached them, the boys dropped their ‘weapons’, heads held low.

  “Apologies, Tíarna.” They muttered, but Nuada wasn’t satisfied.

  “Why to me? Apologize to him.”

  They scoffed in earnest. One chuckled, but when Nuada's face didn’t change, they grew genuinely confused.

  Lasair stepped forward.

  “It’s alright, Nuada.”

  Nuada tried not to let the fear show, but sure enough they latched onto it.

  “It just called you by your name!” They pointed, and they smiled, like the offense was the signal of the start of a game. “To name the crowned is an offence! Now you have to kill-”

  Nuada didn’t need to rush them, or even put his hand on his sword. He simply squared himself to them, stood straight and firm. “Leave.” His voice was cold as deep winter.

  When they were gone, Nuada turned to him.

  “Lasair…” he started, but stopped when he saw the mark on his shoulder.

  Lasair was always dirty, like a child on a secret quest, but this was sharp, dented, made by impact. Nuadas’ eyes were blurry but he could see the rocks scattered at Lasair's feet.

  “You didn’t come,” Lasair whispered. “So I… I thought…”

  Nuada’s hands shook , and he clenched his fists at his side. “I should have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lasair said, quietly, confused.

  “I know.”

  “So why…?”

  Nuada’s jaw worked for a moment before he could answer.

  “Remember when we met?” Nuada asked, and Lasair beamed at the memory like he’d already forgotten the cruelty.

  “Of course!” He chimed, and Nuada felt weak.

  “Do you remember when I told you that hate often comes from fear?”

  At that, Lasair scratched his cheek and looked up. “Mmm, not really.”

  Nuada smiled, he couldn’t help it, but he went on gravely.

  “Some people fear what they don’t understand, and sometimes Lasair, they’ll hurt you because it’s easier than understanding you.”

  Lasair looked down at his scraped palms. “That’s awful.”

  “It is.” Nuada said in a tired tone. The wind rustled the leaves, gentle despite everything. “Will you hate them back?” Nuada asked.

  Lasair shook his head slowly. “No… but I don’t think I’ll forgive them, either.”

  Nuada gave a breathy laugh. “That’s more human than you know.”

  “Good,” Lasair said. “Because I still love you.”

  Nuada stumbled. “You what?”

  Lasair looked at him blissfully. “I love you!” He said again matter of factly, before simply adding. “Mortals!”

  Nuadas’ heart was pounding, and then it plummeted, and he almost felt dizzy.

  Lasair stepped towards him with a furrowed brow. “Are you alright, Nuada?” Then he stopped. “Oh… Can I still call you that?”

  He steadied his breathing and nodded slowly. “Of course. I mean. You may. Yes.” He swallowed. “Please.”

  Lasair beamed at him. “Good.” He said sweetly. “It’s a beautiful name, I think.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Nuada felt winded again, but recovered quickly. “Come,” he said, “let’s make our way deeper into the woods where we’re safer.”

  He felt heavy as he walked, while Lasair skipped along beside and ahead of him, seemingly weightless, like carried by his mirth. “Do you know those boys?” Lasair asked while taking in the canopy, gently brushing the leaves above them with his finger tips.

  “I do.” Nuada said. “They're from the village just beyond the north ridge.”

  “Are they your friends?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not friends with people who throw stones in fear.”

  “Well, maybe they wouldn’t if they had you as a friend.”

  Nuada's smile was honest but weak. “I don’t… I might not have any friends, in truth.”

  “I’m your friend!”

  It was too much, too quickly, and Nuada couldn’t take it anymore. “What about you?” He asked. “Where are your friends?”

  “Oh! Well, the fireflies here are adorable,” he said matter of factly, “and I quite like the tree I was spending time with when you found me.”

  Nuada shook his head. “You’re friends with the trees.” It was a statement, warm with reverence.

  Lasair hummed a reply nodding. “Oh my yes. None have better stories than the trees. My best friend used to be a tree! Though, she prefers to hear stories than recite them herself. So, she tells me what she’s seen, and I turn it into prose!” He fluttered about Nuada as he spoke.

  “What’s she called?”

  “Mimori.”

  Nuada faltered. “Meemah… pardon?”

  “Mi! Mo! Ri!” He danced on each syllable.

  “I’ve never heard a name like that. It’s very nice, though.”

  “She’s rather like you, I think!” Lasair said brightly.

  Nuada wasn’t sure where the question came from, but it was easy to ask. “What kind of tree was she?”

  “A willow tree!”

  And Nuada felt a joyful melancholy that almost made him break right there.

  They arrived back at the glade, and Lasair drew golden shapes in the air, and an archway made of light bloomed around him.

  He looked back at Nuada, his lithe figure illuminated and silhouetted, and smiled so purely. “See you in a few days!”

  “Tomorrow.” The word escaped Nuada in a hurry. “I would like to see you tomorrow. If you can. If you would like.”

  “Is tomorrow special?” He asked eagerly.

  Nuadas’ chest felt tight. “No.” He said flatly.

  Lasair just shrugged. “Well. Okay. I’ll come anyway.” The light flared a bit, and began to fade. “Tomorrow, then!” He added in sincerity, and innocence.

  “I love you, Nuada!”

  When the light dimmed to nothing Lasair was gone, and Nuada stared at the space he’d just been until the image of him that had singed itself into his eyes had faded away.

  Even then… he didn’t leave. Sleep came quickly after such a long day. He was still asleep when Lasair returned, and he didn’t wake him. He went about the glade collecting wildflowers, and adorned Nuada's sleeping figure, humming sweetly to himself.

  Nuada pretended to stay asleep for just a little while before opening his eyes and smiling gently.

  Something shifted after that. Not in Lasair, but in Nuada.

  He started with the shortsword, holding it out hilt-first. “Only if you want to,” he said. “Only if you ever want to.”

  Lasair took it with two hands, and Nuada shook his head smiling.

  It became the new routine.

  Next was the sling. Then, daggers. Axes, both small and large. Always in the glade, and Lasair would weave a charm to conceal the clattering of their training.

  Lasair was weak in truth, flimsy, but he was fast. He moved like wind, would strike and retreat like a flash of lightning, parry like sunlight glinting on a swift river. He didn’t fight. He danced.

  When he gave him the spear for the first time, Nuada actually stopped mid-step and stared.

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “No,” Lasair said, holding the spear outward like an extension of himself so casually, peering down the shaft with one eye shut. “But it’s… it’s like weaving, isn’t it? You follow the thread. You feel where it wants to go.”

  Nuada blinked. “That’s not how we teach it.”

  “It’s how it feels.”

  Nuada didn’t argue.

  The more they trained, the more Nuada saw his technique improve, but behind it, he also saw his spirit. He didn’t swing to kill, didn’t feint to trick, and Nuada thought: He’s never hated anything in his life. Not even what hurt him.

  “Why are you learning this?” Nuada asked one evening, after they’d collapsed into the grass, exhausted from running drills.

  Lasair turned to him, chest still heaving. “Because you asked me to!”

  “But why keep doing it?”

  Lasair frowned thoughtfully, then smiled, and said emphatically. “Because I want to be the best at it.”

  “At fighting?”

  “At learning.”

  Nuada laughed. Sharp, sudden, fond… and defeated. He covered his face with his hands. “You’re going to undo me.” He said before flinging his arms back to his sides.

  Lasair tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  “…Don’t worry about it.”

  He would catch himself thinking about Lasair at all times of the day, and always with a smile he hadn’t known he could muster. He started to long for a world where he could walk between glade and kingdom with Lasair at his side as an equal.

  But… maybe… as something else, too. Nuada had never thought of himself as a romantic, or maybe he had simply never had space for it. It seemed that there still wasn’t, as any daydream or fantasy that wandered too close to something comfortable would turn to images of rocks scattered around bare feet. Still, he started to change in ways that radiated from the inside, and it wasn’t a secret anymore; the prince was in love, it was simply a matter of with whom.

  “Could it be a young maiden from a village surrounding the dún?” Some murmured. “Or perhaps one of the young lords who serves in his vanguard?” Others contended.

  The rumours reached the king, and he had him followed.

  He noticed, and started increasing his tactics to throw off trackers… but increased the frequency of their visits. He continued to train him, but never told him why.

  “Is something wrong, Nuada?” Lasair asked innocently.

  “I just want you to be safe.”

  “From what? Those boys were harmless, really. Just young, I think.”

  Nuada didn’t answer, he just dropped into form, and Lasair responded in kind with a playful smile.

  You’re so easy to fool. He thought.

  …Too easy.

  The king had hoped for some kind of secret affair that might bring a political advantage through marriage or blackmail, or at least someone of childbearing to further his lineage. When a scout finally returned with information, it was worse than the king could have ever imagined.