A Rogue in all but name

Lan’iell swam as if his life depended on it. And, in a way, it did. Life as he knew it, anyway.

One might say the situation was one of his own making; after all, he hadn’t had to respond to the princess’s rather blatant flirting, at least not beyond the bounds of a few proper sentences and a polite, but firm, refusal. As the youngest son of a lowly viscount, it’s not like he would ever be considered a match for the king’s only daughter anyway.

Which was actually more than okay with Lan. The princess was, admittedly, gorgeous, but shallow and petty and not at all someone he could see sharing a home with, much less a marriage bed. (Or even a pre-marital bed, despite his reputation at court. He’d only been out in society for two years, but already had something of a reputation.)

He breached the surface, gasping for air and taking a quick look around to get his bearings. No one was in sight, and he breathed a quick “thank you” to his childhood swimming instructor, who had insisted, since theirs was an island kingdom, that he should be able to swim well enough to escape a shark, if need be.

Escaping from other things was a side benefit.

Coast clear, he veered west, heading for shore.

Twenty minutes later, he’d made it to shore. It was rocky here, and it took a moment for him to navigate his way to dry land. Once he did he took a moment to stretch and look around.

Still clear. Good.

The shore was wooded here, the treeline growing to a few hundred yards of the shoreline. Great for cover, not so much for navigation, and he studied the forest as he thought.

There was a reason he’d cultivated his reputation. Part of it was that he was something of a natural flirt, and good-looking enough to attract attention- tall, with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s jade green eyes. Lan wouldn’t call himself classically handsome, not in the way some of the favorites at court were, but he was lean and muscled, a love of swordplay evident in powerful arms and shoulders. If he’d wanted to, he could have cut quite a swath through the court ladies.

Too bad it wasn’t the ladies he was interested in.

Picking a path that seemed to head in the direction he wanted to go, he headed inland.

The ship he’d escaped from had probably gone back to port at this point. Lan’iell felt a small stab of pity for the guard that had been supposed to be keeping watch on him. It wasn’t the guard’s fault that he’d made a number of friends among the palace security force during his time at court, nor was there any way for the poor fellow to have known that one of his colleagues had taught him how to break out of shackles (in exchange for a small favor of the matchmaking sort) after a similar… misadventure.

Eventually, Lan’iell’s feet brought him to a small clearing. There wasn’t anything terribly special about it, if you discounted the ring of guards trying (and failing) to hide in the surrounding trees. Lan had spotted at least four in the last half hour. He snorted.

City boys.

It was easy enough to slip through the ring. Even easier, since the one guard who’d actually spotted him had studiously pretended Lan was merely a squirrel. It was far from the first time this particular situation had arisen, after all, and he restrained a chuckle as he reached the edge of the clearing.

Before him was a small encampment- a fairly nice tent, campfire with something tasty-smelling cooking over it, a couple of chairs, and a pair of blankets laid out, close enough to the fire to be warm but far enough it would be hard to see them from the edges of the clearing.

Lan had very fond memories of those blankets.

Standing by the fire, stirring the cookpot, stood a figure, and he took a moment to stare appreciatively as the other spoke.

“Took you long enough. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Sorry, love. Your father’s men were more persistent than usual. I had to go a little further than planned to lose them,” Lan said easily, moving into the firelight and wrapping his arms around the figure’s waist.

The other squirmed. “You’re still damp. Go change. There are dry clothes in the tent.”

“Why? You’ll be taking them off soon enough.” That earned him a swat with the spoon, and he chuckled. “So violent, your highness. Is this how you treat all your subjects?”

“Only the ones who stir up family drama. Do you have any idea how long it took my sister to stop screaming after that little stunt you pulled? Father was pissed. You’re lucky the guards gave up. If they’d caught you and brought you back he probably would have made you marry her just to shut her up.” The prince turned in the circle of his arms, wrapping his arms around his taller paramour and pulling him down for a kiss. 

Lan leaned into the kiss for a moment, then pulled back with a rueful shake of his head. “Not exactly what I was going for. Guess I won’t be welcome back at court for a while, huh? Too bad. I was just starting to get good at sneaking into your chambers, too.”

The prince snorted, pulling away to check the stew. “Yeah right. You’re lucky you’ve done such a good job charming my retinue. You’re a rogue, but stealth is not your thing, love. Stick with what you’re good at, we’ll all live longer.”

That put a damper on the mood. What they were doing was technically illegal and extremely ill-advised. “Darling…”

“Stop.” The word was short and clipped, the prince’s voice a mix of warning and resigned. “I know what you’re going to say. And, if I were my brothers, or even my sister, this would be a problem.”

The prince lifted the stewpot, setting it on a convenient stump. “I”m seventh in line, and my eldest brother’s wife is pregnant. If it’s a boy, it’ll more or less knock me out of the running entirely. My father could care less who I marry, or even if I marry, and he’s known of my preferences for years now. If his advisors weren’t all old and too conservative for anyone’s good, he’d be the first to approve of this. Your father is one of his oldest friends, after all.”

“I know,” Lan said with a sigh. “Alright, I’ll be good.”

“I highly doubt that. But come eat.”

Lan’iell laid back, sandwiched between two warm cotton blankets, his royal lover curled tightly into his side and snoring lightly. It was a gorgeous night, and he stared up at the night sky, letting the stars' peace creep into his soul. Tired as he was, sleep would not come lightly; his mind was too busy chewing over what the prince had said earlier. 

Marriage.

Maybe. Someday. Until then, I’ll take what I can get. You’re more than worth it, my prince.