Chapter Text
The carriage jerks to a stuttering stop. Hoofbeasts whicker, clopping and clattering as they rein up. Several pairs of feet thump on the ground.
Inside the carriage, Prince Jake notices none of this. He is slumped against the wall, mouth agape and snoring. His glasses are cocked at an implausibly sharp angle across his face. He doesn’t stir even as the door opens and one of his guards calls to him.
“Uhhh Your Highness? We’ve arrived…you should probably, wake up…”
Jake shifts, but only hucks in a breath and snores on.
“Oh…no…Your Highness, you really, should wake up now…”
A runner of saliva drips from the prince’s chin to the collar of his soft yellow tunic. Neither the prince nor his guard notice the shadowy figure lurking outside the window beside the prince's head.
“Your Highness…oh gosh, do I have to…”
It should be as simple as stepping inside the carriage to gently nudge the prince awake, but there is a rather notable obstacle to executing this idea. The guard gives it a go anyway, angling his head to try and slip the large horns on his head through the door sideways, and he nearly has it when a lisping voice shocks him from behind.
“Tav, what in the pan numbing fuck is taking you so long.”
Tavros jumps and cracks his horns on the doorframe. He yelps and tumbles backwards just as a rapid shadow darts into the carriage unseen.
The prince's dream of roaming the halls of some dark ruin, torch in one hand and flintlock in the other, is brought to an abrupt end by the strange sensation of being prodded half a dozen times in the chest by something cold and narrow. Jake jerks awake, but before his eyes are fully open the shadow is gone. He gazes around blearily, blinking away the sleep and rubbing absently at his sternum. He takes in the open carriage door, and after a moment’s concentrated thought, understanding slots into place.
“Heavens! We must have arrived.” Jake sits up and straightens his glasses. His sculpted hair is undisturbed thanks to the copious amounts of clay applied earlier that morning, and he knuckles away the trail of spit tracking down his chin. He wonders if he should double check his reflection, but the mirror's packed away in his trunks, so he shrugs and steps out the door.
Outside the carriage, Jake's trunks are being rapidly unloaded from the wagon by the barely discernible form of one of his guards. Brobot's steel plating winks in the bright sunlight and by the time Jake's descended the steps, his trunks are piled neatly on the ground, and Brobot has vanished, as he is wont to do. Jake hopes the thing is more concerned with inspecting their destination than bothering him for the moment.
Directly before him, another of his guards is sprawled on the ground, while a third stands and watches with a grin under his red and blue lensed glasses.
“Tavros?” Jake frowns. “You bally well didn't have to bother me awake like that. A simple nudge would have served!”
Sollux cackles, tongue pinched between his pointed teeth. Tavros says, “Yes, I definitely, should have done that…sorry, Your Highness.”
“And why in the sam hill are you laying about at a time like this? This is no time for a snooze!”
“Also true, and I will definitely get up, just as soon as my think pan dismounts the whirling device.”
Sollux, unsurprisingly, does not seem interested in helping, so Jake strides over and takes Tavros by the forearms. He’s heavy, but once his boots find purchase on the ground they get him to his feet easily. Tavros stutters out a thank you and goes to check on the hoofbeasts, with Sollux meandering after him. Jake turns to take in the sight of their destination.
Across a rectangular court paved in alternating squares of black and white marble, and up a pair of similarly patterned steps, the Battlefield rises impossibly high into the blue ribbon of the sky. It is a dizzying masterpiece of Skaian architecture, deeply rooted in the arts of the ancient kingdoms that founded it. Spires and colonnades and towers and arches, shifting and merging and breaking apart, defying the eye’s ability to follow. Its imposing form is wholly appropriate for its even more intimidating function. Skaia is neutral ground; the ancient Dersites and Prospitians founded it on the precept of compromise, and the Battlefield is where leaders from kingdoms the world over unite to negotiate, collaborate, and mediate. The castle's name is an intentional irony–it is a place where people go to avoid war.
And it is where Prince Jake of Lomax is going to spend his summer.
“Golly,” he breathes, craning his neck back. High above, some sort of ornamentation on the roof winks arrhythmically in the sun.
“Golly?” says a loud voice. “Out of your enormous lexicon of silly exclamations, the best you can do is golly? You are going to cause irreparable harm to your kingdom’s reputation, Jake.”
Jake looks over his shoulder. His fourth and last guard, Terezi, taps her way towards him across the marble with her cane.
Jake laughs with a little embarrassment. “Well, the place rather defies words, wouldn’t you say?”
“I wouldn’t,” she replies cheerfully. The bright sunlight glimmers on her red spectacles. “I was hoping your loquacious yapper could describe it for me.”
“It pains me to disappoint you, but even my yapper doesn't have the words to properly describe this place. I will say though, I am eagerly anticipating the exploration awaiting me within yon halls.”
Terezi lifts her chin and sniffs the air. “It's definitely pretty big, that's for sure. You’re going to get so hopelessly lost.”
“An adventurer is never lost, merely en route to his next discovery. And it’s not as if I’ll be alone, is it? It wouldn't do for the Skaians to let a guest starve to death because he got lost on the way to the privy. And of course I’ll have the company of my three good friends.” Jake sweeps his gaze across the court. “That is, assuming they’re here?”
“We were obviously the first ones to arrive, Jake,” Terezi replies. She taps her cane on the ground. “Didn't you notice?”
“Goodness, were we?” Jake gazes around again and deduces she can only be right. No other carriages are ranked along the checkered court, and the general chaos of their arrival has settled. “Er–then I suppose we should wait?”
“JK, you were supposed to leave your stupid at home,” Sollux says, ambling over with his hands in his pockets. “If you stand around outside goggling like a lost wiggler, you'll make Lomax look bad."
“I'm more concerned with looking like a rude wiggler by not being here to greet them.”
“Jake,” Terezi says firmly. “Shut up. First of all, rude wigglers are not a thing. Second, as someone who used to be a wiggler, I am better qualified than you to say whether it would be worse to be a rude or lost wiggler, and I can confidently say that lost is undoubtedly the worse option, because a lost wiggler is a dead wiggler. You are not a wiggler, Jake. You are a prince, and your duty is to your kingdom. The other scions may be your friends, but you still need to command their respect, or they will walk all over you like the wiggler you are not. Go inside. Wait for them to come to you.”
Jake sighs. The blade hidden in Terezi's cane could never hope to be half as sharp as her tongue. "Alright, alright. Point taken."
“Besides,” adds Tavros, rubbing one of his horns, “the four of us should probably, not be here, when the others start showing up. We don’t want to, come across as threatening?”
“What Tav means is he’s afraid of meeting their guards,” Sollux interjects, with another of his staccato laughs.
“Untrue,” Tavros replies quietly, but Terezi’s face lights up.
“Ah, yes, I remember! You served with some of them, didn’t you, before we left Alternia? Didn’t you even court some of them?”
“This conversation,” Tavros says, trying with all his heart to muster a firm tone, “is moving, I think, in unproductive directions.”
“You must be sitting on a hoard of truly salacious stories.” She lifts her cane threateningly. “Don't make me prod them out of you! We've got a long ride home, so–Jake?” Terezi’s spectacled eyes shift to her prince. Even with all the chatter, she doesn't miss his quiet sniffles.
“Oh, fiddle faddle” Jake hiccups, rubbing fitfully at his eyes. “How perfectly namby-pamby of me! It’s just that I…well, it just occurred to me how terribly I am going to miss you all.”
Tavros lays a hand on his prince’s shoulder. Terezi takes his other hand. Sollux drops his aloof affectation for a moment, to smirk, not unkindly, at Jake. Behind them, Brobot flashes into view long enough to offer Jake a thumbs up.
“You’re going to be fine,” Terezi says, patting Jake’s hand. “And if you're not, I'll have words with those delectable licorice and marshmallow men.”
“Hells,” says Sollux, tongue braced between his teeth, “you’ll probably be glad to see the nooksides of us for a while. I'll be glad to see yours, ehehe.”
“We’ll be back, before you know it,” says Tavros, “and you can sleep in the carriage all you like, on the way home.”
Jake sniffs mightily and smiles back at each of them. When it comes to protecting the prince of Lomax, they are simply the best there is. He feels luckier than a leprechaun to have them as friends, let alone guards.
He watches them depart. From a seat on the wagon, Terezi waves. Sollux doesn't, so Terezi seizes his hand and does it for him. Tavros guides carriage and wagon steadily forward until something lands hard on the carriage’s roof, causing the hoofbeasts to buck–it’s Brobot, appearing from nowhere at the last minute, as usual. He flashes over to the wagon and Tavros gets the hoofbeasts moving again, and before Jake knows it, they’re gone.
Jake draws a firm breath through his nose. “Right-o!”
He crosses the checkered court and mounts the steps. At the top, four Skaians, two each of black and white, are ranked before the door. They bow to him in tandem. One of the white carapacians greets him, welcoming him formally to the Battlefield. He is told his luggage will be delivered to his room, and the Skaian asks Jake to follow them to the reception hall.
Half a dozen steps past the threshold, Jake feels dizzy from the scope of this place. A name like “reception hall”, he thinks, should mean it's somewhere near the front door. Instead the Skaian leads him down more hallways than he can count and up a baffling number of stairs. When they finally reach their destination, he is bowed through another pair of doors and left alone in a surprisingly small room stuffed with ludicrously plush sofas. In the center of the room is a table spread with cheeses and cakes and carafes of wine. Jake's excitement curbs his appetite, but he tries a few bites of a pastry that he is pleasantly surprised to discover is filled with pumpkin, his favorite. While he eats, his eye is drawn to a banner high up on the far wall: a string of pennants bearing the crests of the nobles who will be in attendance this summer. It's almost startling to see anything rendered in color, breaking the endless black and white scheming of the castle, and Jake has to blink a few times before he can examine them.
On the left is the three-eyed cat of Lopan, shaped from pink stitching on a purple background. Beside it, the white fork of Locah is stark against red. Next is Jake's own, the skull of Lomax in green and black. Last, the stylized orange helm of Lotak on white.
Jake smiles, lips curling up one side of his face. It's been too many years since he last saw his friends, and now he gets to spend a whole summer with them. True, it could be under better circumstances, but then again that's sort of the point of all this pomp and circumstance. He has a strong hope that their years apart will not prove an insurmountable distance. By gosh, he is personally going to see to it that this is the best summer in any of their eighteen years.
Minutes later, his hopes are put to their first test when the door creaks open, and a Skaian announces the entrance of Princess Roxanna of Lopan.
Jake would know her anywhere. She struts into the room as though she's been here a hundred times–and maybe she has, or somewhere very like it. She wears a blue dress cut into a style Jake has never seen before: sleeveless, lacing up the sides, and laid over a pair of matching leggings. Her high boots are snug around a pair of legs that seem to reach for miles. At chin length, her blonde hair flares out at an insouciant angle, and she is smiling like she knows every secret ever whispered in these halls.
“Roxy!” Jake crosses the room over to her, grinning like a fool. “It is simply too good to see you again, my lady! Believe me when I say I've missed you like the dickens. I am ever so eager to spend the summer in your beguiling company!”
Roxy's lilac eyes gaze at Jake. Her smile doesn't falter, but neither does she speak.
“Er…” Jake tugs at his collar. “Um…oh bother! Me and my everlasting mouth. Forgive me. I mean, Princess Roxanna, it is an utter joy and delight to be making your acquaintance once more.” Jake lays an arm across his waist and bows. When he rises, she is still only looking at him.
“Drat and druthers,” he mutters. Sweat breaks out on his brow and neck. Consarn it, he's supposed to be forging good ties with the other nobles, and here he's gone and bungled the job on his first outing. “Rox–Princess Roxanna I mean, please forgive my impoliteness. You know what they say, my tongue hangs in the middle and runs at both ends! I surely meant no offense, and I beg your pardon for–”
“Jakey,” she says, and her grin stretches wider and those lilac eyes trail down Jake's body. “Where are your pants?”
A flush slams up to Jake's forehead. “Oh, matchsticks and meadowlarks.” He looks down at his legs. Like Roxy, he wears leggings, his of yellow linen. They cut off just barely at mid thigh, and the fabric grips his legs like a drowning man gripping a life raft. His matching tunic terminates precisely at his waist, and his boots only come up to ankle height, leaving what feels like miles of toned, tanned skin for anyone to gawk at. The entire outfit is the result of his tailor experimenting with a new style they insisted would “show off his best feature”. Jake isn't certain he agrees.
“Stars and garters, this is wholly inappropriate for this sort of affair, isn't it? I should go change–”
“Don't you dare,” Roxy says sternly. “It's just been me and Callie and my stuffy ass guards for the last week and the sight of your strutters is like cool water in the desert.”
Jake tugs at his collar. “Goodness, Princess! Such language is unbecoming of one of your station.”
Roxy snickers. “Come off it, Jakes. It's been too long, bring it in.”
Jake laughs, and the tension of their meeting is gone in a second. As one, they step forward and embrace. The hug is warm but light, almost as though Roxy isn't even there at all, just her calming spirit. When it's done Roxy flops facedown onto one of the sofas, bouncing on the overstuffed cushions, and lounges into a long stretch.
“Done with carriages for some time now, I tell you,” she groans, as her back arches in a near perfect curve. "My poor, beautiful backside may be bruised the whole summer long."
“Would the beleaguered lady care for refreshment?” Jake proffers a carafe of wine.
Roxy's lip quirks in a small smile. “You know Jakey, I think some water would do just fine for me.”
“As the lady demands!” Jake pours a glass and settles down on the sofa beside her.
“None for yourself?” Roxy asks. She props her chin in one hand and slurps her water in a decidedly unprincess-like manner.
“To be plumb honest with you Roxy, I am just too keyed up to bother with any nosh or nibbles at the moment! After our own heartwarming reunion I am abuzz with excitement to see our other friends again.”
“Ah now, Jakey.” Roxy sets her glass precariously on the cushions and paps his thigh with her free hand. “I know you're supposed to be the plucky one and all, but don't feel too disheartened if it's not all tears and tenderness right away. Janey is still the same good hearted stick in the mud as ever, but I can tell you she's more than a little nervous about this.”
Jake tries to say this assessment of their friend is unfair, but can't quite overcome the kernel of truth at its heart. He knows that Roxy means it as well as it can be meant. Shuffling to the side to break contact with Roxy's hand, Jake asks, “And what is the basis for this claim, my lady?”
Roxy's hand follows Jake's leg unerringly, and the papping continues with unbroken rhythm. “Well we been sending letters back and forth, haven't we? Not so often as like, I know the exact particulars of her day to day, when she's having dinner or taking a bath or changing her unders, but. Enough to know how she'll probably be feeling when she walks through that door.”
“I see…” Jake's brow furrows. He places a gentle hand on Roxy's wrist and pushes her hand away, but it snakes back moments later. The fleshy sounds of papping echo through the room. “But Roxy, I have to ask. The Four Noble Kingdoms…well, there wasn't to be any contact between us since the treaty signing, no?”
Roxy tips a wink on the beat with her paps. “Best not to bother with the specifics, Jake. Though I’m actually surprised you didn’t do the same with Dirk.”
It's not until Roxy says his name that Jake well and truly thinks about what it means to be meeting his old friend again. He feels something strange in his gut, and realizes with a flush of shame that it's guilt.
When was the last time they were face to face? Three years ago, at the treaty signing? He'd stood on the opposite side of the room from where Dirk and his twin were ranked like statues behind their older brother, faces unreadable behind the customary shades worn by all citizens of Lotak. He remembers wanting to say goodbye to Dirk but never getting the chance, and the memory rakes thinly over his heartstrings like a blade.
Shame floods up into his throat. His thoughts are so arrested he stops trying to abjure himself from Roxy's paps. He treasures all three friends equally, of course, but even he knows there are subtleties in the dynamics between them. It's never concerned him overmuch, but not even Jake could miss how Dirk had always seemed more attached to him than the others. Well, naturally; Dirk had always felt inclined to look after Jake, to protect him the way he protected his brother.
And what had Jake done after the signing? Gone back home and lived his life like always. Studying when badgered, but mostly practicing with his flintlocks and wandering off into the jungle for adventures when no one was looking. Of course Dirk had crossed his mind often, and he had felt plenty of sadness due to how badly he'd missed all three of them, but it was humiliating to realize he'd never thought to try and do something about it.
Jake groans and slumps on the sofa. “Roxy, I've been a blasted fool. A complete, absolute knob. The most blithering idiot who ever blithered! How could I not have thought to try and keep contact with him despite that confounding treaty! After all he's done for me, I owed him that much! And now I come here all eager to reunite, and it's not until you put the thought in my noggin that I realize, Dirk could probably have used a good friend in the last few years. How very in character for Jake English, to prance about the room like a hornbeast in a pottery shop, chatting up friends he's not seen in years as though no time at all has passed! Say old chum, never mind about the narrowly averted war between our kingdoms or the crushing isolation of being cut off from your closest friends, shall we go for a romp through the woods and get into some fisticuffs and whatnot? We can get as scrappy as you like you know, the guards you gifted me aren't here to stop us!”
Roxy frowns. The papping pauses as she sits up. “Okay, first–don't talk about people like that. Your troll friends wouldn't have come from Lotak if they didn't want to. The metal one is maybe a different story but that's neither here nor there.”
“Brobot literally was a gift, never mind that I didn't ask for him,” Jake mutters, “so I'd say it is both here and there.”
“Being as the hereness and thereness of things is basically what my entire business is about, I must insist on being the judge of such matters. And don't interrupt. Now truthfully this place I think could use a good smashing up a la pottery shop hornbeast because the décor is absolutely tragic, but don't start moaning about how you've goofed up before they even get here. I doubt Dirk is upset with you Jakey. I'm just saying, be a little mindful and don't take this time with us or him for granted, alright?”
Jake sighs and feels a bit of the shame slip away. “Your honesty is acerbic as always but I can’t say I didn’t miss it. I will certainly endeavor to be as mindful and grateful as one silly prince can be. Thank you, Roxy. Forgive that slip of the tongue, there. The trolls barely follow my orders, I doubt they'd follow Dirk's any more .” Still, Jake gnaws his lip. “You really think Dirk doesn't mind not hearing from me?”
“I can say quite comfortably that it is so,” Roxy replies loftily, and her paps resume with a vengeance, “given that I was exchanging letters with him too.”
Jake throws his hands in the air. “Oh, come now! Blast and bugger Roxy, you've got hells of legs up on me here. How can they not think me an uncaring ass compared to your diligent correspondence?”
“I really wouldn't worry, Jakes. I reached out to them first, and they could have ignored me, but clearly they needed some good old-fashioned Roxy talk. And much talking there was, indeed.”
“Is that so…” Jake feels a small twinge of jealousy to think that neither Jane nor Dirk seem to have attempted to contact him, nor Roxy either, he realizes, now that the thought is in his head. Maybe it was too risky, to try to violate the treaty more than they already had? Though this thought doesn't do much to ease the feeling. Jake ponders a moment and asks, “Then, can you tell me what Dirk has been up to? Wouldn't mind being a bit in-the-know before this shindig gets properly started.”
The paps falter briefly. “Sorry Jakes. That's a question best posed to the man himself.”
“Now that is just unfair–and will you cease this infernal papping!” Jake shoves Roxy away, slopping her water over both of them and the sofa.
“Awwww, Jakey.” Roxy pouts, flinging her hand to rest dramatically on her forehead. “How is any princess to resist the tempting allure of those fine legs? Your tender skin and unsettled heart fairly beg for soothing paps.”
Jake leans over her. The angle is strange due to the overstuffed cushions of the sofa and he braces a hand by her head. “Let's see how you like it then, shall we?”
He raises his free hand to unleash his own paps, and that is where they are found when a Skaian opens the door seconds later, and Princess Jane and Prince Dirk enter the room.