THE LION'S DEN, Ichabod!

[DUKE JOSCELIN TREVALION]

Joscelin already had a mental overview concerning the royalty of Ríocht. Unfortunately, the report that had been done was by someone else who hadn't been entirely close to the royal family...well, at least not as close as Joscelin intended to become. Either way, there were a few valuable tidbits that he was able to glean from the reports back at Tilarus and that was the fact that Ichabod, the Prince of Ríocht, was aggressive in his approach and blunt beyond reason. Now, one would wonder why Joscelin would focus only on this Prince but there was a reason for it. It was because he had reason to believe that the Queen would distract Joscelin with her son and "feed him to the dogs," so to speak, although Joscelin liked to think that being around him won't bethat tortorous. Either way, Joscelin was happy to be at the final leg of his journey.

It had taken well over a month to finally arrive at the Dewinter's Castle and that was mostly because of the fact that Joscelin was spending time at villages and towns on the way through. It was in an attempt to speak with the lifeblood of Ríocht directly. That meant that Joscelin was actually rubbing elbows with the locals and learning about their own opinions and feelings toward Ríocht's royalty. The general concensus, however, was somewhat all over the place. You see, there were people who didn't exactly care but then there were others with conspiracy theories that could have made a man think or break into laughter - fortunately Joscelin didn't do the latter. Instead, Joscelin thought deeply about what they thought and considered why they would have thought this or that.

It seemed that the theories often focused around the eldest of the Dewinter family though...

...the Queen.

He wrote about all that he had learned each night within his chambers after each feast and festivity was over and done with. There was information about the royalty of Ríocht, relations between races, taxes, laws and thensome that had all been touched upon and documented by Joscelin. The entire time Joscelin idly wondered what he would truly find at the Dewinter castle though for he wasn't exactly making his arrival a silent one. Instead, he traveled proudly and proclaimed his arrival in Ríocht by establishing his presence in one village after another, at least until the afternoon he had arrived at the Dewinter's castle.

Despite the fact that Joscelin had celebrated his way through Ríocht, it might have come as a surprise that Joscelin didn't have a large entourage. In fact, he had none whatsoever and instead had a small band of men meant for his protection. There was a train of wagons though; in fact, there were several of them which were filled with goods from Tilarus. As for how he managed to have somewhat left over after such a long month would have been as good a guess as anyone else's. Yet, here he was as he rode at the head of the caravan, trailed by men high on their horses as their arrival was announced.

"Are you nervous, my lord?" Fortun asked, lifting his voice over the clatter of hooves that filled the air. Joscelin smiled to himself as he continued to hold his head high. "Of course not, Fortun. Why should I feel nervous?" Joscelin asked of his captain of his escort who lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "There's just a lot of questions surrounding this family is all," Fortun said. "Just call it a feeling I suppose," he added. "Let's hope there's no reality behind it, shall we? I don't exactly want to wake with a knife in my back...well, not wake at all rather," Joscelin said and looked amused. "I'm certain that I'll be treated well though, truly. I don't see why not," he added as the Dewinter's castle loomed above them and bathed them in shade.

It wasn't nerves that fell upon Joscelin when he did arrive at the castle but a mild irritation when he wasn't even welcomed by a member of the royal family. Instead, he was greeted by servants which he was fine with but what then? He could wait and be shown to his chambers, yes, but he intended to meet and speak with someone from the royal family - anyone. Fortunately, when Joscelin mentioned such a thing to one of the servants, she was saved by the grace of a guard he nodded, although he looked as if he were marching into Hell itself with the worry that crossed his face for the moment. Idly he wondered whether or not the entire family was busy. It was a possibility but it was far too late to turn back now as the guard navigated Joscelin down the hall.

He wore rich garments; after all, he wanted to make an impression today, although he would have prefered something with a bit more comfort. Nonetheless, the garments were soft to the touch and of high quality craftsmanship. It was made of shades of earthy tones - a deep, dark green that matched the emerald of his family's ring and brown mingled with golden lacework. His boots, however, were black and polished which ended below the knees of his trousers. The collar of his doublet was tight around his throat and across his broad shoulders. He was clean, prim and proper, although his somewhat tousled hair and the stubble that graced his face showed off a man who was somewhat more than a tight laced nobleman. It was then that they came to a stop before the hall and Joscelin was admitted.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the lion's den.

[PRINCE ICHABOD DEWINTER]

This is a gift,
it comes with a price Who is the lamb and who is the knife Midas is king and he holds me so tight And turns me to gold in the sunlight

It was not an easy power struggle that went on between Queen Morrigan and Prince Ichabod. The entire castle was well aware that they were at odds with each other, though it varied as to who knew to what extent their disagreements reached. They barely actually spoke to each other anymore though, as their schedules had both seemed to change quite radically and while Ichabod was unsure of whether the change had been done on purpose or not, the only part of actually seeing his mother that he missed was the ability to insult her directly to her face. As such, he had to resort to having other people pass insulting messages on, which was not very reliable as he had little way of knowing whether his messages got through to the Queen in their entirety or if the servants and guards he sent censored them for their own selfish well-being.

It seemed, however, that at least some of his communication made it to the Queen’s ears as she had taken to retaliating by giving her eldest son certain duties that she knew he would find excruciating to endure. One such duty had been his sudden role as the royal greeter of all guests that were to stay at the castle, despite the fact that Ichabod would rather pretend that most other people did not actually exist.

It was not, in truth, the best idea to have a snubbed and bitter heir to the throne as the official greeter of anyone that may have mattered, as typically, putting the kingdom’s best foot forward would have been preferable. However, in some things, Queen Morrigan could not help but to choose irritating her son over the good of the kingdom. Besides, Ichabod was actually very committed to Riocht, though he did not always manage to show that fact. Also, despite their rivalry, Ichabod was not likely to make himself look too bad, not solely to bring his mother down with him. Not at that point in their relationship, anyway.

However, to be completely honest, Ichabod was not the least bit concerned with being friendly toward any nobility from Tilarus. He thought them to be far too haughty for his taste, especially for a nation that he thought of as being more of a social club than an actual kingdom. He had it on good authority (from his own imagination, that is,) that there were no more than fifty citizens in the entirety of Tilarus, which, in his mind, was one of many embarrassing secrets that they kept safely behind their walls; another of which was most likely an intense dedication to inbreeding.

Thusly, he had instructed the poor frazzled guard who so often got tangled up between Prince Ichabod and Queen Morrigan, to send a group of servants to greet this supposed Duke of Tilarus (a title that Ichabod presumed the man had bestowed upon himself, since Tilarus had no royal line) in the courtyard and then have him brought to the Great Hall to meet Ichabod. The guard could do nothing but agree and do as the prince instructed, as it was typically wise to steer clear of such disputes and pointing out that insulting an important figure from another country was not recommended. Besides, one could not convince Ichabod that asserting his dominance in such a way was actually a bad thing.

And so, there he sat at the very opposite end of the door that Joscelin was brought through. Not that there weren’t closer doors to the front of the hall, especially from the courtyard; however, Ichabod had specifically instructed the servants and guard to take the Duke the long way around and make him walk twice as far and then double back to reach him there at the table reserved at the end of the hall.

This was no simple stroll either as the Great Hall was large enough to hold several hundred guests quite comfortably as it was situated. There were a couple dozen booths outlining the massive room and two elongated tables that flanked either wall, though they left enough space in between for anyone that wished to dance at the castle’s feasts. At the front of the hall was the royal table that seated all of the members of the royal family plus any honoured guests. Ichabod had seen to it that every single chair, except his own, be removed from the hall before the Duke’s arrival.

Despite the loud creaking of the door being opened and the sound of footsteps walking toward him, Ichabod did not bother to look up from his meal to see who it was that approached him. And, in fact, he allowed several long minutes of simply sitting there and shoving food around on his plate before he finally opened his mouth to speak and simultaneously looked up to see Joscelin.

He had been quite prepared to utter some horrid insult about Tilarus, one that he had been practicing in his head and was rather proud of. However, no one had bothered to tell him how extremely attractive the Duke of Tilarus was, which had obviously been on purpose rather than having been a simple oversight. His eyes immediately found the guard instead who, with such a glare directed at him, quickly bowed very low to the ground and then excused himself from the Great Hall.

”Well, Your Grace, you must be quite famished after your long journey here,” he picked up his barely touched plate of food and lowered it to the ground. Just behind the table, a glossy black creature skittered over to the plate and swallowed it whole, utensils and all, before it hissed at Joscelin and then made its way back over to curl up in front of the large fireplace.

”Unfortunately, due to your quiet, modest entrance into Riocht, we found no time to appropriately prepare a feast for your arrival, I’m sure you understand,” the sarcasm in his statement was quite palpable in the air, as news of the celebrations that the Duke had held for himself across the land had very quickly travelled back to the castle. There actually had meant to be a feast in Joscelin’s honour, but Ichabod had it cancelled at the last moment.

He shoved his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair as he studied the man in front of him. He could not help but to allow a small smirk of approval though, as he did rather admire what a nice physique the man in front of him had and he could rather imagine him both as a top or bottom, depending on the situation.

”Furthermore, I’m quite certain that the quarters you were meant to be staying in were found to have a sudden infestation,” he didn’t bother to make up what sort of infestation it might have been, ”though I’m sure we can easily negotiate some other arrangement for you for the night,” the look he gave him then quite clearly implied the sort of arrangements he meant as he was obviously picturing the Duke in his very own chambers.

It was the lion’s den, indeed, as Ichabod could think of no better result than fully devouring such a man.

notes: Sorry for any stray suckage words: 1,208 tag: joscelin

CODED BY lumos OF Caution.

[DUKE JOSCELIN TREVALION]

Mayhap Joscelin should have taken Fortun's warning and concern to heart. Unfortunately, even if Joscelin had...well, there wasn't exactly much he could do about it. He was here to meet and treat with the royalty of Ríocht which included Prince Ichabod amongst them. Yet, what he hadn't been expecting was this petty way of being introduced to the Prince. It was becoming painfully obvious that he wasn't exactly welcomed, especially when Joscelin noted a number of doors that would have undoubtedly led into the great hall far sooner. Instead, they had ended up sauntering about to the front entryway and upon entering Joscelin found himself doubling back the distance he had already walked in order to reach the dais where the Prince was situated.

If it hadn't been obvious already, Joscelin was beginning to truly understand how much he wasn't wanted there. Beyond the beauty of the great hall and the Dewinter's castle proper, there was no warmth coming from the Prince; in fact, Joscelin felt detested, although he showed no signs of knowing. That and there were no seats available which obviously meant that the Prince intended for his visitor to continue standing. Joscelin was smarter than to voice some semblance of complaint though. He would allow the Prince to play this petty role of his and he would smile that wide, toothy smile of his when Ichabod would finally look his way. Unfortunately, it took several minutes of simply standing there until the Prince deemed it fit to finally look to Joscelin and the man who had led him within.

Joscelin kept his eyes averted and staring off toward one of the tapestries behind Ichabod until he was addressed. He listened to the guard retreat hastily from the hall and before long Ichabod had finally spoken to him. He looked down and searched Ichabod's face and bowed thereafter to the Prince of Ríocht and smiled that smile of his.

"Oh, yes, somewhat..." Joscelin started and trailed. He watched the way Ichabod moved with purpose as if to stir something within Joscelin. Fortunately, Ichabod wasn't the first man he had dealt with who was less than kind to him and he wouldn't be the last. So, Joscelin smiled once more as his teeth settled upon his lower lip, suppressing that smile of his somewhat. All the while he watched as a black creature skittered out and ate the plate whole - shocking to say the least. He looked back up to find that he had been staring after the beast.

"Ah, Your Grace, the thought itself is more than enough to warm my heart, however, I must assure you that I am but one man and a feast in my honor...it's not necessary," he said and shook his head. "I am simply delighted to be here in Ríocht and in the fabled Dewinter's castle," he said and looked all around him, admiring the time that had been undoubtedly put into the great hall. It was impeccable to say the very least and Joscelin could only wonder how it would have looked filled to the brim with lords and ladies arm-in-arm. Nonetheless, there was something that weighed on Joscelin's mind there and then.

He had partly expected Ichabod to be harsher. Mayhap it was because of what he was told and warned of by others, but despite the fact that Ichabod was still a bit cold, he wasn't as outright harsh as he had expected. Then he remembered the way Ichabod looked when he finally saw Joscelin. It was brief and Joscelin had seen it out of the corner of his eyes, yes, but he had been certain that he saw surprise there. Had Ichabod seen something that he actually liked? It was possible, and although Joscelin wasn't intending on flirting with Ichabod or any royalty, he wasn't exactly against using his mother's comely looks to his advantage. Well, Joscelin at least hoped that was the reason and if wasn't then he was certain that this would all come back to him in a terribly horrid way. Whatever the case might be, Joscelin was going to play along.

Ichabod mentioned a sudden infestation found in his room and Joscelin looked amused, especially more so with the way Ichabod was looking at him. It would have made anyone flush, be it a man or woman, but Joscelin could only grin down at the Prince. Mayhap he should have drawn it back a tad though, but Joscelin found it hard to do so. Instead, he looked down and bit his lower lip before looking back to Ichabod.

"I am certain that we can, Your Grace, but I must say that these are the least of my concerns and I assure you that I am in no rush to be laying on my back. Instead, I was actually wondering if I may accompany you and that we may converse? I have heard of such beautiful things in Ríocht and I've a mind to see them all for myself...if you have the time, of course," he said.

[PRINCE ICHABOD DEWINTER]

This is a gift,
it comes with a price Who is the lamb and who is the knife Midas is king and he holds me so tight And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Ichabod smirked ever so slightly at the other man’s captivation with his pet, the creepy black skeletal creature that he had named Ifreann when he’d acquired him several years ago. No one seemed to know quite what it was, as it was the only one that had been seen anywhere in the land. The general consensus had been that it was a demon of some sort and should be exterminated. However, it was quite protective of Ichabod and seemed to care for him and he for it, so he would not allow the guards or knights anywhere near it.

It had apparently been only an infant when it began wreaking havoc in Riocht. It had first been noticed in the village, where it had been surviving by devouring people’s pets, though it was not long before it’d entered the city walls where it could raid the butcher’s shops in the market. It had been considered more a pest than anything at that point, up until panic set in when the creature was found within the castle walls by a servant unloading supplies for one of the kingdom’s great feasts. It injured three servants and two guards with its scorpion-like tail before it made its escape out into a corridor. By the time the remaining guards in pursuit of it caught up, they found it flopped over on its back and receiving a belly rub from the young Crown Prince.

Although the head commander of the knights at the time, Sir Percival III insisted that the creature should be destroyed, the late King Etion always had a soft spot for Ichabod and ordered that the thing, whatever it was, be left in the responsible hands of his eldest son. Despite the fact that it rather unnerved people with the way that it looked, its possessive and sometimes aggressive nature toward people that threatened its owner, its eating habits and the fact that it had grown to the size of a goat and seemed to be getting bigger still, it had not attacked anyone since Ichabod had taken possession of it.

Ichabod was always amused by outsider’s reactions to his pet, as regular visitors to the castle had become accustomed to its presence around the Prince and therefore, rarely paid it much mind except for the occasion that it got tired of waiting for a meal and found its own food by way of some noblewoman’s prized pocket pet or when it suddenly appeared out of the shadows and hissed at someone for having ventured too close to it. Outsiders had a tendency to gawk at it though and anything that made other people uncomfortable had a tendency to please Ichabod.

It had occurred to him that the Duke would take his feeding his unfinished meal to his pet as an insult, which was certainly why he had done it. He had not actually intended on eating from the plate at all, as Ichabod had always had a tendency to skip meals here and there. His governess had always chastised him for it, but Ichabod preferred to keep lean and had little interest in food.

”I don’t have much of an appetite, myself,” he said as he wiped his hands with his napkin, then allowed a small smirk to creep to the corner of his mouth. ”Not for food, anyway,” he flirted rather shamelessly, though it was only the beginning of his tests of the Duke’s boundaries.

”Well, good, we’ll cancel the celebration indefinitely then. It’s not as though we couldn’t find better uses for the supplies than feasting in honour of nobility from Tilarus; adding it to the compost, for instance,” he said coldly as he sat back against his chair, though he kept his gaze fixed on the Duke.

”Yes, I’m sure you’re quite amazed to be here, as anyone would be, especially after coming from a village such as Tilarus,” he put emphasis on the fact that he was declining from acknowledging the other man’s homeland as any place of significance. He may have been rather attracted to the Duke, but it didn’t stop him from being aggressive toward him. In fact, his aggression often grew when he found himself faced with someone that he would rather enjoy dominating.

He frowned, however, as Joscelin widened his grin. Perhaps, he thought, Tilarus had given the title of Duke to their village idiot and sent him to Riocht out of spite. That sounded very much like the sort of thing that he thought the pompous country would do (that is, pompous in his own pompous opinion, of course.) However, even if that was the case, it didn’t generally change Ichabod’s opinion nor his physical attraction to the other man. Honestly, intelligence was not a requirement for Ichabod’s conquests.

”Mmm, pity, that was all I had my mind on,” he said in reference to Joscelin’s comment about being on his back. He sighed a little and then pushed his chair back and stood up and then frowned again as he saw that he and Joscelin were the same height. He much preferred to tower over people and had often found himself jealous of the Laochra race’s superior height for that very reason. Not that he would ever utter to anyone that he was jealous of anyone for any reason, much less the Laochra.

”Allow me to make it very clear to you that I will be showing you around under complete duress. For some reason my glorious mother has deemed me responsible for taking care of all of the guests to the castle, regardless of what sort of mud pit country they’ve come from. So you’ll excuse me, I’m sure, if I don’t act as though I’m ever so honoured to be accompanied by you if you insist upon subjecting me to such an exciting event as strolling around the castle,” he rolled his eyes and huffed as he walked from around the table and toward a door on the side.

”Well, come on, then,” he glanced back impatiently at the Duke, though he gave him another appreciative glance before folded his arms over his chest, turned back and continued walking. Only a moment later, Ifreann went bounding over to follow him, but Ichabod quickly snapped, ”Not you. You go lie back down,” which caused the creature to look rather dejected for a moment, then turn and hiss rather viciously at Joscelin before it slunk back over to its spot by the fire.

notes: Rambley rambling words: 1,081 tag: joscelin

CODED BY lumos OF Caution.

[DUKE JOSCELIN TREVALION]

Despite the fact that Joscelin may not have crumbled there and then in Ichabod's presence, he was left with one question in mind: How did the men and women of Ríocht deal with this man? He had to admit that even just a few moments with Ichabod was terribly grating and filled him with a want to simply turn on his heel and leave. Yes, leave. He didn't want to flee but simply leave in disgust at how one could be treated. It's not that Joscelin expected to be pampered by any means, however, but the fact that Ichabod could be so petty toward someone he did not know irritated him beyond reason, although Joscelin continued to keep a smile plastered on his features without a hitch.

So, there was to be no welcoming meal for Joscelin. Fine, he could deal with that. As for the celebration? Yes, he could deal without one as well. Now, the insult to Tilarus - his homeland, despite the fact that things may not have been absolutely flawless in his youth, was still a place that was held in a special part of his heart. He was nearly undone at what Ichabod had said and he partly wanted to snap at the Dewinter Prince. Yet, who could blame him? Somehow he willed himself to calm and to second think things. How? God only knew as he forced a toothy smile, looked amused and bowed his head to Ichabod politely as if nearly shaken with laughter by Ichabod's words more than the sudden urge to throttle him.

It seemed that Joscelin's constant stance at being able to weather Ichabod's early storm of insults was actually working though. He had hoped that this tactic would have been in his favor and so it seemed to be there and then. Ichabod seemed to have started growing dull and bored over prodding Joscelin in that petty way he was greeted in as talk turned elsewhere, at least for the moment. He was grateful for it though. How could he not be? Even Joscelin was pressured under Ichabod's cruelty as he suddenly felt a new found respect settle over him for the people of Ríocht and those who directly dealt with Ichabod.

Idly he wondered if the other Dewinter royalty was like him in any way, shape or form.

"Well then, mayhap I could show you a bit of the physical art that can put any man upon his back sometime, Your Royal Highness," he said suddenly, although Joscelin knew fully well what Ichabod had meant. In fact, it was obvious that he knew with the amusement that showed in his blue eyes. Still, as Ichabod had come to it his feet, it was obvious that the Prince wasn't intending on making any semblance of a friendship between them. That was well and good for Joscelin though. So be it if Ichabod wished to act this way. So long as he was whole and healthy by the end of the day and for the weeks to come.

"Well, Your Royal Highness," he started and bowed before the man in respect. "I would be sure not to take too much of your time up if it pleases you," he said through suddenly clenched teeth. Could the damned man be any more frustrating and impossible? It seemed that, yes, he could and he wasn't exactly about to let up any time soon. Nonetheless, Joscelin stood quiet as he listened and nodded slowly, half-expecting this day to end abruptly before long which was entirely fine with Joscelin.

He followed when looked at impatiently.

Before Ichabod and Joscelin could leave, however, the strange creature bounded forth and Joscelin was witness to an awkward scene between him and his...creature. Ichabod barked at it and it hissed at Joscelin in return as he made a mental note to never attempt petting the damned thing. It was well and good for him any way because the damned thing look terribly dangerous to him and he wasn't one looking to be missing a hand any time soon. He even subconsciously started to rub at his wrist.

"I must admit that I have never seen such a thing like that before, Your Royal Highness, where did you find it?" He asked suddenly when they were out of earshot of the creature as if the thing could have heard him.

[PRINCE ICHABOD DEWINTER]

but as the water fills my mouth it couldn't wash the echoes out
I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole till there's nothing left inside my soul as empty as that beating drum,

but the sound has just begun...

Ichabod couldn’t really tell if he was getting to the other man or not, which was a trait that the manipulative prince did not find particularly endearing in anyone. If his words were devastating to someone, then he wanted to see the devastation evident on their face or at least in their eyes. Perhaps there was a glimmer of such in the Duke’s eyes, but Ichabod was uncertain if he was actually shaken by anything that had been said to him or if it was simply a typical uncertainty that anyone felt in front of a member of a royal family. However, he didn’t give up so easily.

”You look as though you know more than just one way to put a man on his back. I shall expect frequent and vigorous demonstrations of such artistry,” Ichabod licked his lips automatically as he thought of all of his own arts for achieving such results and how he would like to apply them to the man before him.

”Oh but you’ve already taken up far too much of my time, we may as well continue on until you’re satiated. I will pray to the gods, however, that it shall be as brief as I imagine satisfying you in bed would be. Any longer and I’m likely to have to find a sword to run myself through; any less time and well, I’d be rather irritated if we didn’t even make it out of this room,” he huffed like a petulant, yet obviously seriously corrupted, child.

”What, you mean Ifreann?” Ichabod turned back to look at the Duke as he asked about his pet. ”It just appeared one day; it might’ve crawled directly out of my mother’s cunt after she squeezed out my youngest brother, for all I know,” he shrugged and continued walking.

”There are many unusual creatures to be found here in Riocht. I don’t suppose you’re used to such variety in Tilarus; I doubt many beasts would waste their precious time in such a place, what with so few citizens to devour. Or, I wonder, should one consider your people to be beasts rather than citizens? Not much better than the Fiáinsal, are you?” he didn’t bother looking at the other man, although a small smirk played across his lips. ”You do smell significantly better, at least.”

Ichabod led the Duke out to a breezeway that looked out upon the outer grounds at the rear of the castle and stopped in the middle. He leaned against the stone railing and gestured to the left of the grounds.

”Out that way and to the rear of the property you’ll find the archery range and before that are several dozen courts and fields for varying outdoor sports that work their way up nearly back to the castle. Running down the middle, as far as the land goes up to the guard wall are the gardens. I’ll be forced to walk its winding paths with you when the light is on our side,” he sounded as bored as he possibly could be and rolled his eyes as he mentioned the further involuntary strolling that they’d be suffering through together.

”Closest to here and leading up to the door to the kitchens is a vegetable garden where all of the castle’s produce is grown. That’s very well guarded from thieves so I would not suggest...” he trailed off as a different thought occurred to him, ”well, go ahead and try to gain access on your own.” He smirked mischievously, though obviously he did not expect the Duke to actually do so as Ichabod’s insincere encouragement was as good as any formal warning.

”Out to the right,” he gestured that way, ”is a large fishing pond, well, more of a small lake, but it’s carefully controlled as to what species are allowed to inhabit the water at any given time. It is a well-kept secret that enchanted rocks are used to regulate the temperature of the water year-round, despite the kingdom’s intolerance for its people’s use of magic.” Without so much as taking a breath in between, he added on to his statement in an unconcerned monotone. ”Oh, well, I suppose my mother didn’t mean for me to reveal all things to you.”

”Closest to the castle on that side is my father’s aviary...” he paused suddenly and pinched the bridge of his nose as though a pain had suddenly shot through his skull. ”Was, it was my father’s aviary until his death. All manner of feathered creatures could be found there, up until the Queen had them all either prepared for the castle’s feasts or released into the forest if they weren’t at least slightly edible.” He sounded slightly dismayed by this, as Ichabod had spent much time in the aviary over the years. Though if one were to think it was because he had a soft spot for the creatures, they would be wrong. It was, in fact, that it had been one of his late father’s favourite places on the castle grounds. And it was just one more thing of his father’s that he could only assume his mother had destroyed just to spite him.

”I’ve no interest in venturing out to see things that once were, yet are no more; even if the light did suit doing so,” he sighed and stood back up straight and looked at Joscelin again.

”You’ll understand if I do not spend my days longing to revisit the ghosts that my mother has created in this castle. So do tell me, Your Grace, had you any specific destinations in mind? It would speed this torturous process up immensely. Or perhaps you wish to simply retire after your journey; I did promise to rearrange your accommodations did I not? Not to worry, I’ll be sure to put you up somewhere appropriate to your rank. In fact, I’m feeling rather generous as you are quite gorgeous,” no sense in beating around the bush, the man was very attractive and must have known it. You have it on my honour that I’ll not have you put up in a broom closet, even if I think that our broom closets are probably as grand as your chambers in Tilarus.” He, of course, had no real intention of allowing the Duke to retire for the evening, though the tour was certainly on his short list of things that he never wished to do again.

notes: hopefully less pointless rambling this time words: 1074 tag: joscelin

CODED BY lumos OF Caution.

[DUKE JOSCELIN TREVALION]

Ichabod Dewinter was relentless.

One would have thought that the Prince would have lightened up somewhat after the initial onslaught but he hadn't. As for whether or not this was truly how he acted at all hours of the day was still up in the air for Joscelin. He assumed that because Joscelin was a foreigner, and from somewhere Ichabod obviously had no fondness for, that Joscelin was as open a target as anyone else he would have disliked. Still, the persistance was enough to chafe even Joscelin whom was accustomed to being looked down upon since childbirth. Ichabod simply had a way about him that managed to get under his skin. Fortunately, Joscelin didn't let that on and if he had...well, Joscelin was certain things would have ended far worse.

"It would be a terribe thing to do, Your Royal Highness," Joscelin said, bowing his head to the man.

Joscelin had never wished ill upon anyone before but the notion of watching Ichabod run himself through a blade because of Joscelin wasn't such a horrid one. He certianly wouldn't have minded it to say the very least but Joscelin was certain that if such a thing were to happen then he would swiftly follow afterward, blamed for the sudden death of the Prince. Ah, well, there goes that dream there and then. Anyway, it wouldn't have been anything good to write of if it had happened. He was certain that the council of Tilarus would have much preferred the royalty of Ríocht alive than another death in the family.

"I haven ever seen anything like it," Joscelin admitted when Ichabod spoke of Ifreann, the creature whom had wanted to come along but had been abandoned. Joscelin had to be admit he preffered things that way. Unfortunately, talk of Ifreann only led to more insults as Joscelin kept his calm, listened and looked onward. He was grateful that Ichabod didn't constantly look back to check on him either. If he had...well, Joscelin wasn't cracking yet but one never knew what may happen in time. There's only so much that a man could take, although Joscelin had a threshold unlike any other. Still, Joscelin hoped that Ichabod's interest in Joscelin's physicality would peak to the point of him wanting to join in on it for Joscelin certainly wouldn't have minded taking out his frustration on the Prince by tossing him about roughly. It was something he had done with others once before and it had been gratifying to say the very least.

"Mayhap I will be able to see a few more then. I wouldn't mind that overly much," he admitted. "As you say, there's a lot to be found here in Ríocht and just my venture through it has shown me as much, Your Royal Highness," Joscelin admitted.

It hadn't been long until Ichabod had led Joscelin out onto the outer grounds where everything practically lay before them. Joscelin kept his distance, however, as Ichabod leaned against the stone railing and gestured to the left. Joscelin's eyes followed, moving just enough to be able to survey the grounds properly.

"Well, I wouldn't wish to be the source of your heartache there. I am certain I can stroll them on my own time without you, Your Royal Highness; after all, you are a busy man," Joscelin said in a mattre-of-fact and understanding tone. Unfortunately, Joscelin had to spend time with him despite the fact that he wasn't exactly looking forward to it in any way, shape or form. Still, the fact that Ichabod seemed to bored with everything around him was somewhat shocking to him. One would think that having the ability to do as you please would make the man happy but mayhap there was more to life than coin and having everything.

Mayhap.

Ichabod spoke onward of where the castle's produce was grown and the warning was well received. "Mm, I think I will take your word for it," Joscelin said in a matter-of-fact tone. He would rather not risk himself over anything whilst here, especially looking like a dimwitted fool by sticking his hand where it didn't belong. He followed Ichabod's next gesture to the right. All of which Ichabod spoke of made him wonder whether or not the man took any pride or pleasure in what the Dewinter's grounds offered. That or mayhap he was simply weary of it all. Yet, just when Joscelin thought Ichabod had no semblance of a soul, the man surprised him fully when he spoke of his father's aviary and Joscelin heard a note of dismay in his tone of voice.

Idly Joscelin wondered if a suggestion or query on whether or not Ichabod would have liked to breathe life into the aviary would have been out of bounds for them. They had only just met and Ichabod already showed he had no interest or care for Joscelin. So, who was he to go about suggesting things? Still, Joscelin wondered if Ichabod would have or if he had even thought of continuing what his father had seemed to love. Either way, it seemed that Ichabod did have a heart and that the death of his father was undoubtedly unwanted or so he surmised.

Ichabod looked to him as he pondered.

"You are too kind to me, Your Royal Highness," Joscelin said, bowing deeply before the Dewinter Prince, although the man's words on closets and Tilarus did not sit well with Joscelin. Still, he had a glimpse at what might actually be proper beneath that thick skin of his and behind that barbed tongue. "As for what I wish to do and see...? May I speak plainly?" He asked and looked hopeful, and when allowed, Joscelin spoke.

"I wish to do what you do, Your Royal Highness. Why must things be so cold between us when I mean to cause no such distress? We are men and I'm certain there any number of things we can do to pass the time," he said. "That and I must say that I was hoping to do more than just talk, although conversation is always a good thing..." Joscelint trailed off, lifting his shoulders and hands toward the sky. "...but there always so much we can do. So, Your Royal Highness, what do you wish to do?"

[PRINCE ICHABOD DEWINTER]

but as the water fills my mouth it couldn't wash the echoes out
I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole till there's nothing left inside my soul as empty as that beating drum,

but the sound has just begun...

Ichabod rolled his eyes and shot Joscelin looks of irritation each time the Duke offered some polite comment or courteous nod in response to whatever nasty thing had just left his mouth. With each and every dull response, Ichabod could feel his blood pressure rise, the same way his own comments were meant to inspire a rise out of Joscelin. He absolutely hated to be ignored, as he’d been raised as the heir apparent with much attention ever fixed on him. As a result, even ignoring what a prick he was, to him, was just the same as ignoring him entirely. And, to be perfectly honest, Ichabod was not above acting like a child grabbing onto his parent’s leg and whining pay attention to me! He just so happened to be a bit more aggressive in his approach for the same end.

”You’re right, Your Grace, your mere presence here in Riocht is more than enough heartache for one man to bear. You wouldn’t want to wear out your welcome quite so soon, now would you?” Though he added a bit of sarcasm to his tone, he felt that he actually was being rather welcoming. After all, he could have taken the other man on a tour of the nastier bits of the dungeon, rather than displaying the beauty of the castle’s grounds.

But no matter how unkind Ichabod was to him, it seemed that he simply could not get the other man to appear the slightest bit shaken. It was infuriating and he couldn’t help but to wonder if all of Tilarus’ citizens were that way because if so, he had half a mind to have the whole place invaded and cleared out, as obviously so many insufferable people had no business banding together in such a way.

”Oh please, I’m more kind to my boot,” he rolled his eyes and huffed, as though it irritated him to be forced into speaking the ugly truth about himself in such a way. Not that he was ever ashamed of his behaviour, not by a long stretch.

”You disrespect me with your disingenuous responses and I’m beginning to take grave offense to such treatment. Furthermore, I have begun to think that there is nothing within you, that you truly are the imbecilic puppet I was told would be visiting from Tilarus, rather than the real man that I apparently mistakenly had begun to believe was before me. As such a pawn, then, do you really wish to return to your superiors and tell them that you started a great war by being too polite?” he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

”Though I could very easily spend the rest of the evening thinking up insults for your homeland, I would have thought that something I’ve said would inspire some sort of spark within you, or do you simply not care for Tilarus as one would assume? Honestly you’ve begun to make me wish that I’d greeted a tongueless Dorchan whore rather than the ‘duke’ of Tilarus,” he put emphasis on the word duke to again imply that he believed the man’s title to be a fraud, considering the lack of respect that he had for the nation of Tilarus.

”And,” he added, as he thought to mention it, ”tongues are generally the only part of a woman that I find remotely interesting, so you can see exactly where you stand here.”

His permission for Joscelin to continue on was by way of another eyeroll and a huff of, ”Yes, finally speak plainly or do not speak at all, Your Grace. I grew tired of you the moment you opened your mouth and bullshit spewed forth rather than honest words.”

However, as Joscelin revealed what he wished to say, Ichabod, in all honesty, found himself a bit bewildered, which was evident by the way that he kept opening his mouth and then closing it again. Having managed to completely silence the eldest prince of Riocht was certainly no easy feat and there were not many people who could brag about having done so; not without having shoved something in his mouth to accomplish it, at least.

Finally, he found the words he had been searching for, though he uttered them much more softly as he moved closer to Joscelin and slid one of his hands behind the other man’s jaw line. ”You didn’t have to wait until just now to be so direct in expressing your desire, I’m not a believer in exchanging false pleasantries before getting around to fucking,” he gripped Joscelin’s hair and tugged a bit to show that his aggression could also be beneficial if that was what the Duke wished of him.

”As for your question, I’ve never been overly fussed with an order for positions. We can begin whatever way feels most natural... though I’ll definitely have you on your knees at some point, I think,” he smirked a bit and pressed himself against Joscelin’s thigh so he could feel the result of what Ichabod thought to be a sudden and preferable subject change.

notes: words: 849 tag: joscelin

CODED BY lumos OF Caution.

[DUKE JOSCELIN TREVALION]

"Of course not, Your Royal Highness," Joscelin replied simply.

Joscelin didn't wish to wear out his welcome, especially not within the presence of a mad man like Ichabod was. Who knew how far the man would go to get his point across no matter Joscelin's station. Joscelin wouldn't be the first nor the last man or woman to have suddenly disappeared if it came to that. If anything Ichabod would be doing a few men a favor by ridding Joscelin of the world entirely; after all, he was certain that there were many men and women in Tilarus whom still frowned upon his parentage. Nonetheless, if it had come to that...well, Joscelin wouldn't be the sort to roll over and offer his soft belly.

He'd fight tooth and nail, and Godwilling if he survived, he'd throttle Ichabod until the bastard pleaded for his life. As for now, Joscelin will smile and play the part of the earnest visitor and allow Ichabod's barbed words to flit past him as much as possible.

Then Ichabod ranted.

Had Joscelin truly gotten under his skin? He nearly laughed.

...nearly...

Joscelin held no attraction for men in any way, shape or form, but what truly unsettled him was how the crowned Prince thought he could have him so easily. Joscelin's amusement faded the instant Ichabod tugged upon his hair. Joscelin's hand shot instinctively not to drag Ichabod's touch free but to catch the man by the throat. Fortunately, Joscelin caught himself in time and didn't strangle him to death. Instead, Joscelin simply held him as he searched Ichabod's face with a sharp breath.

"I think you have mistaken my words for somewhat else, Ichabod," he said, forgetting to use the man's proper title as he took a step back in an attempt to avoid the Prince's touch. Things were only becoming worse and Joscelin feared that a sudden uproar would end with Joscelin's cock being cut off. Still, that didn't change the fact that Joscelin wanted to slap the spit out of Ichabod's mouth. If the Prince had wanted a spark out the man before then he had it now.

"I do not intend to suck your cock nor will you bed me," Joscelin said defiantly, moving his hand from Ichabod's throat to his hair to sharply pull in return. He knew that he was testing the waters. That at any moment Ichabod would bark for the guards and he'd be dragged off, beat on and flogged until he bled to death. He took the chance, however, for Joscelin was already in deep, unsettling waters.

"Have I made that clear, Princeling?" He asked sharply, meeting the man's eyes defiantly.

How stupid of him truly. Had he just thrown away his life...?

[PRINCE ICHABOD DEWINTER]

but as the water fills my mouth it couldn't wash the echoes out
I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole till there's nothing left inside my soul as empty as that beating drum,

but the sound has just begun...

No surprise showed on Ichabod’s face as Joscelin suddenly put his hand around his throat, though his expression naturally faded back to its usual state of blank annoyance. He stood there, staring at the other man, sizing him up but without any fear of what might happen. Ichabod did not fear death and lately he had been entertaining the notion of welcoming it were the opportunity to present itself. However, in his mind, some noble from Tilarus, of all places, did not present the most attractive offer, not for death anyway.

”No, the mistake is not mine,” Ichabod immediately countered, though he continued to watch and listen to the other man as he backed away. It was a lie, of course, as he had truly thought that the other man was coming on to him, not that he would reveal such a thing. No, the Dewinter family did not typically admit any wrongdoing, accidental or not. He would simply ignore it and lead Joscelin on to believe that it had simply been a further attempt to toy with him. In truth, it had been a long time since anyone had last challenged him in such a way. If at all possible, it proved to turn him on even more.

He took in a sharp breath as Joscelin returned the hair tug and as he finished his defiant outburst, Ichabod allowed the slightest of smirks to adorn the very corner of his lips. Now that was a proper response to his bullying, although, truthfully, he wouldn’t have minded if there’d been a few more tears involved.

”No, you’re right,” he patted the Duke’s cheek in a somewhat affectionate way, ”definitely more foreplay first, hmm?” he started to turn but then, seemingly on second thought, though it was his intention all along, he leaned in closely and spoke in a hushed yet obviously threatening tone.

”I will, however, have you gutted and gild your entrails to fashion them into an extravagant necklace for my eldest sister if you ever dare to call me ‘Princeling’ again, Your Grace,” he patted a final time, a bit harder, as a sign that no empty threats ever left his lips and that Joscelin should therefore take heed of his advice.

”Now, in the meantime, before you finally drop your act of not wishing to be mercilessly fucked by so fine a cock as mine; what wonders of my family’s castle do you wish to gaze upon? How about a detailed tour of the kingdom’s most treasured artefacts? We’ve a wide collection of hideously detailed tapestries that I’m sure I could invent some boring histories of to entertain you with.” His demeanour had not gotten any friendlier but his body language at least did not read as quite so aggressive. As far as he was concerned, Joscelin had passed through the initial fire of meeting him. Not that the flames were any less likely to relight within him, as it didn’t take much to cause a spark those days.

”Or did you have something else in mind? It’ll be something dreadfully boring for you to torture me with, I’m sure,” he rolled his eyes as he anticipated Joscelin’s latest response.

notes: words: 533 tag: joscelin

CODED BY lumos OF Caution.

[DUKE JOSCELIN TREVALION]

Joscelin somehow managed to keep himself under control despite the fact that he trembled with the impulse to suddenly hit the crowned Prince. He wondered whether or not Ichabod had any redeeming qualities; after all, even the most cruel of men and women had something about them. So, there had be something within Ichabod...something that could restore Joscelin's fate in Ríocht as a whole. If not...well then, Joscelin wasn't certain of what to say or do if that was the case. Mayhap the other Dewinter siblings were better off than Ichabod, although it seemed that the Prince was tasked with entertaining Joscelin thus far.

That meant he would be stuck in this living Hell.

If Joscelin had thought that finally releasing his pent up frustration would help, he swiftly realized that it had and it hadn't all at once. It had earned a semblance of respect from Ichabod, at least somewhat but Ichabod wasn't about to roll over belly up in submittance. Instead, Ichabod turned back to him and left the threat out there for Joscelin to deal with. It was more than obvious that Ichabod wouldn't take another outburst lightly and Joscelin hoped the man wouldn't press Joscelin for another any time soon. It was hard to stay calm around Ichabod when he instantly knew how to press Joscelin in a way unlike any other, and honestly, that was saying a lot because Joscelin had dealt with horrid men and women for most of his life. It was just that Ichabod was a notch above them . . .

. . . a very far up notch at that!

Joscelin resisted another impulse as he smothered it down and kept his hand from reaching for his belt knife. He was surprised that Ichabod had never been beaten before or threatened to get his so fine cock cut off by the way he acted. Then again, who could blame him for that? Joscelin blamed his mother, who undoubtedly had a part in his upbringing alongside his father. That and he blamed all the people who followed every order as if he was some damn God. Yet, if they hadn't then where would they be? Undoubtedly beaten and flogged for their disobedience.

Joscelin wouldn't have minded seeing tapestries with the so called boring histories but he would have preferred seeing those alone and listen to the tales from someone who could speak more animatedly of it. Instead, Joscelin tried to be more diplomatic and even a tad bit challenging when he spoke of somewhat else.

"I'm certain there's something else you like to do other than fuck, Your Royal Highness," he said suddenly. "Or are you not allowed to be physical otherwise?" He asked and lifted his brow. It was obvious that Joscelin was looking for a challenge...something that the two of them could free their tensions at and relieve their stress.