Chapter Text
“I think it’s going to be fun having you in our class, Prince Osora,” Arias said with a small grin as he leaned back on his hands.
Osora, sitting beside him in the hall of the training building, smirked. “Don’t sound too excited,” he replied, the playful bite in his voice softened by the twitch of amusement on his lips.
But just as he opened his mouth to add something sharper, the heavy stomp of polished boots echoed down the corridor.
Osora’s expression shifted in an instant. He groaned and pulled his scraped knees to his chest, burying his face in them. “Oh no,” he mumbled.
“What?” Arias asked, frowning. “What happened?”
“My dad’s here,” Osora muttered. “And I’m about to get the lecture again.”
Arias blinked. “Wait, your dad? Like… the King?”
Before Osora could respond, the man himself rounded the corner—tall, broad-shouldered, and looking far less joyful than he had earlier that day when he’d introduced Osora to the class. His dark hair had a streak of gray, and worry was etched deeply into his features. King Antonio locked eyes with his son and quickened his pace, long strides echoing ominously through the corridor.
Antonio stopped right in front of them, towering over the two boys like a storm cloud ready to break. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of command.
“Osora.”
Osora slowly lifted his blond head and met his father’s stern eyes. “It’s not that serious, Dad,” he said, trying to shrug it off.
Antonio didn’t respond right away. He crouched, his strong hands surprisingly gentle as he inspected the boy’s skinned knees, the faint cut on his lip, and the beginnings of a bruise swelling along his cheekbone.
“I come here to pick you up, and the first thing I hear from your instructor is that you sucker-punched another student.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it stung more than if he’d yelled.
He sighed heavily and turned to Arias, who instinctively sat up straighter. “What’s your name, lad?”
“Arias, sir,” he answered after a hesitant pause, unsure if he was in trouble too.
Osora, still sulking, added, “He was my partner for warmups.”
Antonio looked him over for a second, sizing him up. “Well, Arias, I apologize for my son’s behavior. Believe me, this won’t happen again .”
He shot Osora a pointed look.
Osora grumbled something under his breath and looked away.
Arias gave a crooked smile and wiped the blood still dripping from his nose. “It’s okay, King. Someone’s got to keep him on his toes.”
Antonio blinked. Then his shoulders shook once, and suddenly, a loud, unexpected laugh boomed from his chest, echoing down the hallway.
“Well!” he chuckled. “Glad to see someone’s not afraid to fight back. My son gets that fiery personality from his mother, but the competitive streak? That’s all me.”
Osora glanced up, startled.
Arias just grinned. “Yeah, he fights dirty, but it was kind of fun.”
King Antonio stood again, still chuckling, and clapped Arias on the back. “Good lad. But do get that nose looked at. Can’t have my son breaking faces every week.”
Arias nodded, amused.
Osora, however, was staring—not at his father, but at Arias.
He really isn’t afraid of my dad. The thought rolled around in his head like a marble. Most people flinched or froze when the king entered a room. Most kids avoided Osora altogether, too scared of what might happen if they got too close to the prince. But Arias didn’t flinch. He joked. He laughed. He fought. He looked at him, not past him.
Why doesn’t he care like the others? Osora wondered. He’s met dozens of kids over the years in different training sessions, from noble families, military households, and orphans. But none were like Arias.
Maybe he just hates authority… he thought, annoyed with himself for thinking too hard about it. Ugh. Whatever.
“Alright, lad,” Antonio said, giving Arias one last pat on the shoulder. “Head to the infirmary. And you—” he turned to his son— “Let’s go. We're having a talk before dinner.”
Osora stood, brushing dust from his pants.
Arias stood too, and for a moment they just looked at each other.
Arias was struck again by Osora’s brown eyes—sharp, amber, and way too intense for a nine-year-old. The Prince looked away, scratching the back of his neck.
“Sorry again… for punching you,” Osora muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”
Arias smirked. “Yeah. See you tomorrow. Bye, Your Highness .”
Osora rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his mouth. He gave a little wave before turning to follow his father down the hall.
Arias watched him disappear around the corner, his stomach fluttering weirdly. What just happened?
His day had started normal. He'd expected training, drills, maybe getting his ass handed to him by some older kid—but not by the prince . And definitely not a casual conversation with the King afterward.
He chuckled as he made his way to the infirmary, nose still bleeding. Yeah… this is going to be interesting.
——————-
That evening, Arias entered the mess hall, tray in hand. He barely got three steps in before Leo jumped up from the table.
“DUDE!” Leo whisper-yelled, practically bouncing in place. “We thought they killed you!”
“What?” Arias scoffed, setting his tray down. “Seriously?”
“You fought the prince , bro!” said another boy, arms flailing.
“He started it,” Arias defended, laughing. “And the King apologized for his behavior, too. Can you believe that?”
Leo leaned forward across the table, eyes wide. “You talked to the King ?”
Arias shrugged casually. “Yeah. He wasn’t mad. Not at me anyway. He gave the prince a lecture and everything, though.”
“WHAT?!”
“He gave the prince a lecture?!”
“Wait, wait, wait—are you friends with him now?!”
That one made Arias pause, his fork halfway to his mouth. He blinked. Friends?
He thought back to the way Osora had smirked. How he'd apologized. The weird wave. The way he’d stared at him like he was something confusing but important.
“I dunno,” he said slowly. “We kind of talked like friends, I guess.”
Leo nudged him, grinning. “Better be careful. You might be his guard by next week.”
Arias rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face. “Shut up.”
The table buzzed with questions the rest of dinner, but Arias’s mind kept drifting back to amber eyes, a sharp mouth, and golden blond hair.
He headed back to the barracks later, arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling above his bed.
Prince Osora.
He was annoying. Stubborn. Dramatic. Royal.
And kind of amazing.
Arias sighed, rubbing his still-bruised cheek.
Yeah… this is gonna be interesting.