A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 26

It was Nicholas Llewelyn Grayson Wainwright’s first day at court and he was determined to make his family proud. It was a shame his elder sister, a year his senior, had been unable to advance their family through courtship with the young prince, but he was confident he would be able to advance their name himself through his performance at court. It was strange though, she seemed almost relieved when she returned from the prince’s formal introduction. Their estate was a good distance away from the capital, rumors were slow to reach their doors, but he knew at least that the young prince had lived most of his life as a commoner in Midland of all places. Perhaps he was rough mannered in reflection of that upbringing. It would explain why he had chosen to retain the name “Guts” rather than choosing one more suited to his position. Honestly, what kind of a name was that for a prince? He likely would not be meeting the prince today, nor his betrothed, whom his sister had neglected to describe.

The meeting he was attending today was rather mundane, simply meant to determine this year’s grain subsidy. This was usually a task left in the hands of ministers rather than members of the monarchy. The king would have to approve the plan once it was finished of course, but the actual drawing up of the legislation was done by court officials. Like himself a giddy little voice in his head added. He had passed the civil service exam for economics with flying colors. He was on his way to a promising career as an economics adviser provided he didn’t make a fool of himself.

When he reached the chamber the meeting was supposed to take place in, he was immediately blinded. A man more beautiful than anyone he’d ever met sat organizing notes in preparation. His long silver hair shone in the dusty beams of sunlight trailing through the windows, his eyes vivid blue, richer in shade than even the sky outside, his delicate face rivaled that of a fairy tale princess in beauty. It was as if the morning star itself had descended into this dim conference room. He was so entranced that he almost didn’t notice at first, that a veritable mountain of a man sat next to him, peering at his notes over his shoulder. He was darker in countenance than the man who had so blinded him and wore his dark hair shorn close in the manner of a soldier. Much of his visible skin was marked with scars, and his dark eyes darted warily to the door as Nicholas entered before returning to the notes. He would’ve thought the man was the ethereally beautiful one’s body guard if it weren’t for the iron circlet around his head. The Iron Crown was reserved for heirs that chose to engage in battle, the cold iron a reminder of the weight of duty they carried when they left the bounds of their kingdom.

So that was Prince Guts. Nicholas could see now why he hadn’t changed the name. Nothing more courtly would have suited such a grizzled soldier. Though looking at his face closely, he didn’t seem much older than Nicholas, 25, maybe 27 at most. Wait no, if he remembered correctly the prince was only about 19, but yet he already had a sizable patch of white in his hair and his face was marked with slight frown lines as well scars. Only the most seasoned warriors Nicholas had met were as torn up and spat out as his highness, but the prince was supposed to be younger than him. What on earth had done that to him?

But, if that was Prince Guts that would mean the man next to him was probably... He caught sight of the ring on his left hand. That was Sir Griffith, the White Hawk, the Grim Reaper of the battlefield. The man known far and wide for his terrifying effectiveness as a commander. Rumors of his monstrous appearance had made it even to his distant estate, but those rumors now seemed completely unfounded. Yet, as he made his way closer to sit down, he felt every single hair on his body stand at attention. A voice deep within him, one that thanks to his privileged upbringing he had never had the misfortune to hear, told him that something here was deeply wrong. He looked upon sir Griffith again and felt suddenly as if he were a lost dog that had suddenly come upon a wolf. His form was familiar to him, almost exactly like his own, but that voice inside of him screamed that this was a predator, this creature before him would consume him, without remorse or hesitation. Why would he be remorseful after all? It was the natural order. He was nothing but prey. Nicholas would not feel remorse for killing a rabbit.

“Are you alright?” Piercing blue eyes blinked at him questioningly. His voice was higher and softer than he had expected it would be. The musical quality of it almost quieted the voice in his head screaming for him to run. He noticed for the first time that his pupils were slitted like a cat’s.

“I am perfectly fine. I merely had a dizzy spell.” He grabbed the back of a chair to better sell the lie.

“You get enough water? It’s pretty hot out. You’ve got time before everybody else gets here to go get some.” The Prince’s voice was exactly as he had expected, deep and growling as if he had to force the words from deep within his chest. His highness leveled him with a knowing stare. Nicholas wasn’t being told to get water, he was being told to take a moment to collect himself before he returned. He felt it too then. That same sheer terror that made every fiber of his being cry out in fear. Yet instead of running or fighting or anything reasonable, he sat so close to the other man that they were practically in each other's laps, calmly reading over his notes. With that one moment of understanding, Nicholas could not determine which of the two frightened him more. The angelically beautiful creature that he knew instinctively could tear him to pieces without a thought, or the seasoned warrior who sat by his side seemingly without a care in the world.

He gave a polite bow before making his exit to “go get some water”. Maybe it wasn’t too late to become a local tax official or take some other position far far away from the capital. No, that was cowardice. After all, he was here representing his family. Their name was their livelihood and he would not be the one to sully it. He did actually find himself some water before he returned. It was pretty hot out.

“What was his problem?” Griffith asked. Guts didn’t really know how to tell him. ‘Hey Griffith, you know how you’ve created this careful persona your whole career? Well guess what!’ “I can see your wheels turning, Guts. What is the issue?”

“You know when we fought Zodd and that giant ape thing, every single time we came across something like that, even before they showed their true forms, they gave off this awful feeling. Even though they looked mostly normal, something told me that they weren’t, that something was deeply, deeply wrong.” He looked at Griffith askance trying to gauge his reaction. He didn’t look up from his notes.

“And being near me, it feels much the same?” He asked, completely matter of fact.

“I’d say if anything, the feeling is even more intense.” Guts didn’t know what it was. Griffith was much smaller and much more human in appearance than the monsters they’d encountered in the past and yet, somehow, the feeling of wrongness that emanated from him was significantly stronger. It was as if something part of him existed on the very edges of what it was possible for his eyes to see or his mind to understand. It was like how Griffith had announced to him one day that he was able to see a color he hadn’t been able to before and then found himself completely unable to explain to Guts what it looked like. There would always be things that existed beyond his ability to perceive them. Now there were parts of Griffith that he’d probably never be able to see or understand. But that’s how it was with everyone wasn’t it? Everyone had things going on with them nobody else would or even could understand. Griffith was just a little bit more difficult to fully grasp than most now. He was always pretty unpredictable anyway, it wasn’t a massive change. He very quickly proved that unpredictability by breaking out into a grin. Not one of his usual closed lipped smiles but a grin, wider than should’ve been possible, showing nearly all of his teeth.

“Amazing! That’s absolutely incredible!” He stared at his own gloved hands opening and closing his fingers. That same euphoric awe he had for his own body when he had first woken up after the eclipse had returned. Griffith had once likened Zodd to a god, but if what Guts said was true, he inspired even greater fear in the very depths of the human soul. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he was. He knew he was something beyond human, but that was really all he knew. To hear he had gone further beyond humanity than something that he had once considered near to a god, he was in near ecstasy at the very thought. Even if he didn’t sit next to the prince that intended to one day make him his king, he was a god among men, or at least a lion among deer. He practically shook with elation.

Guts was once again unsure how to respond so he just let what first came to his head come out. “You might want to get ready for more ‘dizzy spells’ in the future. People might not always notice it but when they do it’ll probably be enough to make most of ‘em shit their pants.”

“You can’t say it isn’t unwarranted. Look at me! Look at what I’ve become!” He was positively giddy. “If myself from five years ago were to see me now, I think he would be utterly terrified.” He reveled in the idea, how he would appear to his teenage self as a silver bolt from the sky. His saber would break against his skin and at the moment he realized he was truly powerless against him, that he faced a power it was impossible for him to comprehend, he would remove his helmet. His younger self would see his own face reflected back at him and he would smile in equal parts elation and fear at the heights his future self had reached.

Guts wondered what his past self would say if he saw him today. Probably, “I thought you’d be dead by now,” maybe “What the fuck are you wearing?” might’ve called himself a slur. It was hard to tell, he’d changed so much since he was 14.

“You’re the same, you know.” Griffith leaned into Guts, smiling into his shoulder. “If anything you are far more frightening.”

“How do you figure that?” He was genuinely curious.

“Because you are entirely ordinary. You have nothing but your strength of body and your strength of will, but yet you are the only one that could hope to match me.” Griffith held his face in his hands and looked him squarely in the eye. Guts saw himself reflected in the deep blue of Griffith’s eyes, just as he had five years ago, when Griffith had declared him his, and in that moment he knew Griffith believed every word. He really did believe that they were equals. The reason he’d planned to leave him, the insecurity that he would never match up to him, all of it fell away. Guts did what his younger self would have been too afraid to do and closed his eyes as Griffith pulled him closer.

The door slowly began to open again and they quickly pulled away from each other. Sure, their engagement was official at this point, but neither of them wanted to be caught making out in a conference room like they were teenagers.

Nicholas could tell he had interrupted something. The energy in the room felt different than when he had left, more charged somehow. This time he gave a curt bow to his majesty before actually forcing himself to sit down. No one else was here yet. Oh gods, it wasn’t just going to be him in a room with these two the whole time was it? He ought to make small talk right? “Apologies for my brief exit, your highness. I was unaware you and your betrothed would be attending such a trivial meeting.” The prince shifted in his chair.

“It’s way more important than any of the normal estates crap I’ve had to sit through.” He was stunned into silence, the prince considered grain policy more important than the management of the nobility? What on earth?

“What I believe my beloved means to say, is that he has personally seen the effects that poor agricultural policy can have on a nation’s populace. What is decided today in this room will affect the livelihoods of thousands of people, and if the decision is a spectacularly poor one, it could result in widespread famine as well. Most estates laws on the other hand, effect a relatively small portion of the populace, one that has a degree of cushioning to prevent utter destitution provided policies are unfavorable to them. According to my cursory research on the topic, the majority of people in this country still engage in some form of agriculture as a means of supporting themselves, correct?” Griffith smiled at him and he couldn’t help feeling as if he was being examined like a caught bug.

“I thank you for your clarification, Sir Griffith. Apologies if I appeared negligent, your highness.” The door finally creaked open again. Oh thank the gods.