Watermelon 1, Blue Raspberry 13, Apple Pie 12
Author: Casey
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy universe, Pre-NIEE
Challenges: Watermelon 1 (one step forward, two steps back) & Blue Raspberry 13 (imposter), Apple Pie 12 (ancestors)
Toppings & Extras: Butterscotch
Word Count: 1,986
Rating: PG
Summary: Reg’s deal with Darcy gets inconveniently interrupted.
Notes: Make that a two-parter. Couldn’t fit how Reg fits into the scheme of things in the last one. And now they want a plot. I will resist. I will resist. I will…crap. Suppose that means Sprinkles no longer applies. Blast. Follows this.
Once Reg had regained his equilibrium and the swelling seemed to be slowing down, he took the two girls and Kurt down to a local pub. The owner was a discrete man and supported five kids and a wife off what he made, so Reg felt good about dropping money there. Plus, no rumors would spread about Reg the Wedge and the girls he was dining with. They took a table near the back and settled in. At first, the conversation was tense and stilted - Darcy wouldn’t say two words and Kurt was jumpy.
Then, Reg asked about Darcy’s fighting name.
Sarah immediately burst into laughter while Darcy made a face. “That little tidbit was Sarah’s brainchild,” she said, the longest sentence she’d strung together since their arrival.
“Seems a bit…”
“Stupid?” Darcy supplied dryly.
“No more then mine,” Reg said.
“It’s your own fault,” Sarah said, getting control of herself. “We were passing an arena and Darce decided she wanted to see it. We did and she was totally and instantly obsessed. When she wanted to go back the next week, I had no idea she wanted to actually fight. But that’s Darce for you. She leapt straight into the arena. I wasn’t about to leave her out there without a coach and then the Arena Boss asked me what her name was. I had about thirty seconds to come up with something. Rhyming seemed the easiest method.”
Kurt now perked up. “Reg did the same damn thing.”
Sarah grinned. “Seems the two of you have something in common.”
“I’m still better than he is.”
Reg held up his hands. “I’m not going to argue with that, considering I can’t even see straight. How long have you been fighting?”
“About a year,” Darcy said, leaning back in her chair and lacing her fingers behind her head in a gesture of easy confidence.
“And I was the first one to ever get a hit in?”
“I’m sure you know the kind of gents the arenas get. Big lumbering henchman. It’s easy enough to stay ahead of them.”
“So you’ve spent a year down south undefeated?”
She smirked. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“There must be other small fighters out there. We could revolutionize the sport.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Or I could just keep kicking people’s asses, since you won’t fight me again. The sport seems to be doing just fine on its own.”
“Still!”
“Reg, no one is going to fight a woman if they know she’s a woman,” Sarah said.
“We could change that,” he said, but nodded. “It’d be a long shot anyway.” He then turned an easy grin on her sister. “So, thought about the dual match yet?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how long Sarah and I plan on being around Oakbridge.”
“Just one tournament?” he prodded. “We’ll be too good for anyone to want us for long.”
Just then, Kurt, who was facing the door, let out a long breath. “Reg,” he murmured. Before the young man could look up or even fully register the sudden silence of the other patrons, a trumpet sounded loudly in the small inn.
He groaned.
“Prince Reginald, His Majesty, King Heinrick Highcastle, requests your honored body to immediately conduct itself into his royal presence.”
Reg sighed. Scratch another perfectly good inn off his visit list. He leaned over to Darcy, who he had obviously managed to surprise for a second time. “I’ll be in touch. C’mon, Kurt.”
“I’m tempted to stay here. Wilbur didn’t say my name.”
“And miss my humiliation?”
Kurt rolled his eyes but stood, following Reg over to the herald. Immediately, six soldiers surrounded the pair. Wilbur gave them a superior smirk and led the way out.
In the vacuum of silence following in their wake, Reg heard: “I gave the prince two black eyes?”
He smiled and hoped Darcy would either be curious enough or want to rub it in enough that she’d stick around for a couple days until he could get back in touch.
Wilbur coughed delicately and Reg immediately aimed his best possible - considering those two black eyes - glare at the man’s back. Wilbur had grown up in Oakbridge and took far too great a pleasure out of being able to track him down no matter where he was in the city.
“He’s going to murder you,” Kurt murmured.
Reg shrugged. “I’m his only heir and Darcy, frankly, did a better job then my father’s ever managed.”
Kurt rolled his eyes but said nothing further, dropping a respectful step behind his lifelong friend. Luckily it was after normal trading hours so the streets were fairly empty and the small procession only garnered cursory attention. Plus, Prince Reginald being marched through the streets like a criminal was at least a once weekly occurrence. Wilbur’s one concession, and probably only due to his father’s strict orders not to make a bigger scene then necessary, was to stick to the back roads so they were almost upon the castle when they were first able to spot it. Reg bit back a sigh at the place that would become his legacy - the grandly placed, seven-story castle that would dwarf Oakbridge once finished. Of course, at this point, only two stories were complete and the third only contained an audience chamber. It looked like a big, squat, ugly hunchback and Reg hated it.
Wilbur led them through the front gate, where the soldiers split off, and then the herald marched straight up the staircase that led to the audience chamber. By the time Reg and Kurt caught up, he was standing to the right and a step behind the two thrones that dominated even a room as large as this. Only one of the thrones was occupied and Reg’s father sat steaming in it, crown immaculately placed on his head. Reg absently tried to remember the last time he’d seen his crown and hoped Kurt knew where it was. He came forward, stopping about two yards from his father. Kurt fell in behind him on his left and, clasping his hands behind his back, he directed his gaze towards the far wall beyond the thrones. At least one of them had retained some of their military training, Reg thought dryly as he met his father’s gaze.
“What was it this time?” Heinrick asked, voice almost too calm. “One of the whores or a fight?”
“I love that you always think the best of me, Father.”
“You give me no reason to do otherwise. Well?”
“A fight, as a matter of fact.” He crossed his arms. “Is there a particular reason you wanted me or just because you could? If it’s the latter, I’ll be going to get dinner, since you so rudely interrupted mine.”
“You will stay here until I tell you otherwise,” Heinrick said, half raising out of his seat, calm all gone.
“Why? Because you’re king?”
“Damn it, Reginald!” his father exploded. “It would not kill you to show an ounce of respect for me and for your position.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to respect my choices on occasion either,” Reg shot back.
“Your choices? You mean your decisions to show up to royal functions looking like this?” He waved a hand in the general direction of Reg’s face.
“At least I show up!”
“You shame our name.”
“Just because you and Mom and everyone are great heroes doesn’t mean anything any more, Dad. People don’t care now that the country’s stable.”
That turned Heinrick’s face purple. “You will not dishonor our name with your…your shenanigans.”
“People respect me for me when I fight. There’s nothing wrong with that. You do more shame to our name when you insist on dragging me publically through the streets as if I’m an errant child.”
“You are an errant child and I will treat you as such until you prove yourself capable of being treated as an adult.”
Reg ground his teeth together in frustration. He attended every last meeting his father insisted on, but there always came a point where he cracked and needed to get away. Billy, who knew who he really was and took great delight out of calling him Reggie anyway, had long since figured out his length before cracking and Billy usually had a nicely scheduled fight for him all lined up. “If you weren’t here, I’d be legally able to take the throne. I don’t think that counts as a child.”
“Until you learn to obey-”
“Obey?” Reg echoed incredulously. “Dad, I’m going to be king one day. And anyway, didn’t you get where you are by blatantly not obeying? You and Mom both. I come by it from both sides. Did you honestly expect anything different?”
For a moment, the duo stared each other down. “That doesn’t deny the fact that you feel it is proper to ditch your duties to this country periodically to go gallivanting around getting in pounding matches and sleeping with whores!”
As usual, Reg didn’t bother correcting him on the details. “You can’t deny the fact I do a damned good job as prince when I’m here. And it’s not like I’m useless while ‘gallivanting’. Even you, with your-” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kurt give an abrupt shake of his head and he rethought his impending comment. “Even with your blindness, you have to have noticed that the number of deaths at the arena matches has dropped to nearly zilch in the past year, both here and farther afield.”
His father sunk back onto his throne and Reg felt a sudden awareness that his father was edging perilously close to fifty years old. He clamped down on his guilt as Heinrick rubbed his forehead and then looked at Kurt. “I suppose it is a waste of everyone’s time to tell you to force my son to stay here in the castle.”
“Yes, sire, I’m afraid it is. If I tried, His Highness would still go but just leave me behind.”
The king pursed his lips and looked both the young men over. “Fine. If you insist on this foolishness, you might as well be useful, I agree. I want you to draft a law regulating the arena bouts in the next couple of days. I’m sure Kurt will be ample help. Following that, since your interests seem to lie along those lines, you will draft, develop and implement laws governing the brothels. From there, we’ll see.”
“So does this mean you’ll stop dragging me home like a small child?”
His father stood, a slight, sly smile slipping across his face, one Reg remembered well from his childhood. “We’ll see what mood strikes me.”
Reg rolled his eyes. “That’s really not helpful.”
Heinrick met his gaze. “We’ll see how it goes,” he said. “Now go see your mother. I suppose there’s nothing to do about those shiners.”
“Kurt got ice on them immediately, but I got hit pretty hard,” Reg said, unable to help a grin.
“And you’re proud of it.” The older man sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes, you are far too much my son, Reggie. Come along, Wilbur,” he said and swept from the room.
Kurt let out a breath, sagging as soon as they were alone. “Reg, you really don’t know when to pick your battles, do you?”
“Hey now, I’d say I won that one, thank you very much.”
“Still, telling the king, even if he’s your father, that he’s got his head up his ass is not a wise decision unless you really like dungeons.”
“That’s why I’ve got you around,” Reg said and then grinned. “I think our next pursuit definitely requires some more research. Shall we go track down Darcy and Sarah?”
“If they haven’t left town,” Kurt murmured. “Yes, let’s,” he added with false cheer.
Reg laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the stairs.
Story: Nothing is Ever Easy universe, Pre-NIEE
Challenges: Watermelon 1 (one step forward, two steps back) & Blue Raspberry 13 (imposter), Apple Pie 12 (ancestors)
Toppings & Extras: Butterscotch
Word Count: 1,986
Rating: PG
Summary: Reg’s deal with Darcy gets inconveniently interrupted.
Notes: Make that a two-parter. Couldn’t fit how Reg fits into the scheme of things in the last one. And now they want a plot. I will resist. I will resist. I will…crap. Suppose that means Sprinkles no longer applies. Blast. Follows this.
Once Reg had regained his equilibrium and the swelling seemed to be slowing down, he took the two girls and Kurt down to a local pub. The owner was a discrete man and supported five kids and a wife off what he made, so Reg felt good about dropping money there. Plus, no rumors would spread about Reg the Wedge and the girls he was dining with. They took a table near the back and settled in. At first, the conversation was tense and stilted - Darcy wouldn’t say two words and Kurt was jumpy.
Then, Reg asked about Darcy’s fighting name.
Sarah immediately burst into laughter while Darcy made a face. “That little tidbit was Sarah’s brainchild,” she said, the longest sentence she’d strung together since their arrival.
“Seems a bit…”
“Stupid?” Darcy supplied dryly.
“No more then mine,” Reg said.
“It’s your own fault,” Sarah said, getting control of herself. “We were passing an arena and Darce decided she wanted to see it. We did and she was totally and instantly obsessed. When she wanted to go back the next week, I had no idea she wanted to actually fight. But that’s Darce for you. She leapt straight into the arena. I wasn’t about to leave her out there without a coach and then the Arena Boss asked me what her name was. I had about thirty seconds to come up with something. Rhyming seemed the easiest method.”
Kurt now perked up. “Reg did the same damn thing.”
Sarah grinned. “Seems the two of you have something in common.”
“I’m still better than he is.”
Reg held up his hands. “I’m not going to argue with that, considering I can’t even see straight. How long have you been fighting?”
“About a year,” Darcy said, leaning back in her chair and lacing her fingers behind her head in a gesture of easy confidence.
“And I was the first one to ever get a hit in?”
“I’m sure you know the kind of gents the arenas get. Big lumbering henchman. It’s easy enough to stay ahead of them.”
“So you’ve spent a year down south undefeated?”
She smirked. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“There must be other small fighters out there. We could revolutionize the sport.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Or I could just keep kicking people’s asses, since you won’t fight me again. The sport seems to be doing just fine on its own.”
“Still!”
“Reg, no one is going to fight a woman if they know she’s a woman,” Sarah said.
“We could change that,” he said, but nodded. “It’d be a long shot anyway.” He then turned an easy grin on her sister. “So, thought about the dual match yet?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure how long Sarah and I plan on being around Oakbridge.”
“Just one tournament?” he prodded. “We’ll be too good for anyone to want us for long.”
Just then, Kurt, who was facing the door, let out a long breath. “Reg,” he murmured. Before the young man could look up or even fully register the sudden silence of the other patrons, a trumpet sounded loudly in the small inn.
He groaned.
“Prince Reginald, His Majesty, King Heinrick Highcastle, requests your honored body to immediately conduct itself into his royal presence.”
Reg sighed. Scratch another perfectly good inn off his visit list. He leaned over to Darcy, who he had obviously managed to surprise for a second time. “I’ll be in touch. C’mon, Kurt.”
“I’m tempted to stay here. Wilbur didn’t say my name.”
“And miss my humiliation?”
Kurt rolled his eyes but stood, following Reg over to the herald. Immediately, six soldiers surrounded the pair. Wilbur gave them a superior smirk and led the way out.
In the vacuum of silence following in their wake, Reg heard: “I gave the prince two black eyes?”
He smiled and hoped Darcy would either be curious enough or want to rub it in enough that she’d stick around for a couple days until he could get back in touch.
Wilbur coughed delicately and Reg immediately aimed his best possible - considering those two black eyes - glare at the man’s back. Wilbur had grown up in Oakbridge and took far too great a pleasure out of being able to track him down no matter where he was in the city.
“He’s going to murder you,” Kurt murmured.
Reg shrugged. “I’m his only heir and Darcy, frankly, did a better job then my father’s ever managed.”
Kurt rolled his eyes but said nothing further, dropping a respectful step behind his lifelong friend. Luckily it was after normal trading hours so the streets were fairly empty and the small procession only garnered cursory attention. Plus, Prince Reginald being marched through the streets like a criminal was at least a once weekly occurrence. Wilbur’s one concession, and probably only due to his father’s strict orders not to make a bigger scene then necessary, was to stick to the back roads so they were almost upon the castle when they were first able to spot it. Reg bit back a sigh at the place that would become his legacy - the grandly placed, seven-story castle that would dwarf Oakbridge once finished. Of course, at this point, only two stories were complete and the third only contained an audience chamber. It looked like a big, squat, ugly hunchback and Reg hated it.
Wilbur led them through the front gate, where the soldiers split off, and then the herald marched straight up the staircase that led to the audience chamber. By the time Reg and Kurt caught up, he was standing to the right and a step behind the two thrones that dominated even a room as large as this. Only one of the thrones was occupied and Reg’s father sat steaming in it, crown immaculately placed on his head. Reg absently tried to remember the last time he’d seen his crown and hoped Kurt knew where it was. He came forward, stopping about two yards from his father. Kurt fell in behind him on his left and, clasping his hands behind his back, he directed his gaze towards the far wall beyond the thrones. At least one of them had retained some of their military training, Reg thought dryly as he met his father’s gaze.
“What was it this time?” Heinrick asked, voice almost too calm. “One of the whores or a fight?”
“I love that you always think the best of me, Father.”
“You give me no reason to do otherwise. Well?”
“A fight, as a matter of fact.” He crossed his arms. “Is there a particular reason you wanted me or just because you could? If it’s the latter, I’ll be going to get dinner, since you so rudely interrupted mine.”
“You will stay here until I tell you otherwise,” Heinrick said, half raising out of his seat, calm all gone.
“Why? Because you’re king?”
“Damn it, Reginald!” his father exploded. “It would not kill you to show an ounce of respect for me and for your position.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to respect my choices on occasion either,” Reg shot back.
“Your choices? You mean your decisions to show up to royal functions looking like this?” He waved a hand in the general direction of Reg’s face.
“At least I show up!”
“You shame our name.”
“Just because you and Mom and everyone are great heroes doesn’t mean anything any more, Dad. People don’t care now that the country’s stable.”
That turned Heinrick’s face purple. “You will not dishonor our name with your…your shenanigans.”
“People respect me for me when I fight. There’s nothing wrong with that. You do more shame to our name when you insist on dragging me publically through the streets as if I’m an errant child.”
“You are an errant child and I will treat you as such until you prove yourself capable of being treated as an adult.”
Reg ground his teeth together in frustration. He attended every last meeting his father insisted on, but there always came a point where he cracked and needed to get away. Billy, who knew who he really was and took great delight out of calling him Reggie anyway, had long since figured out his length before cracking and Billy usually had a nicely scheduled fight for him all lined up. “If you weren’t here, I’d be legally able to take the throne. I don’t think that counts as a child.”
“Until you learn to obey-”
“Obey?” Reg echoed incredulously. “Dad, I’m going to be king one day. And anyway, didn’t you get where you are by blatantly not obeying? You and Mom both. I come by it from both sides. Did you honestly expect anything different?”
For a moment, the duo stared each other down. “That doesn’t deny the fact that you feel it is proper to ditch your duties to this country periodically to go gallivanting around getting in pounding matches and sleeping with whores!”
As usual, Reg didn’t bother correcting him on the details. “You can’t deny the fact I do a damned good job as prince when I’m here. And it’s not like I’m useless while ‘gallivanting’. Even you, with your-” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kurt give an abrupt shake of his head and he rethought his impending comment. “Even with your blindness, you have to have noticed that the number of deaths at the arena matches has dropped to nearly zilch in the past year, both here and farther afield.”
His father sunk back onto his throne and Reg felt a sudden awareness that his father was edging perilously close to fifty years old. He clamped down on his guilt as Heinrick rubbed his forehead and then looked at Kurt. “I suppose it is a waste of everyone’s time to tell you to force my son to stay here in the castle.”
“Yes, sire, I’m afraid it is. If I tried, His Highness would still go but just leave me behind.”
The king pursed his lips and looked both the young men over. “Fine. If you insist on this foolishness, you might as well be useful, I agree. I want you to draft a law regulating the arena bouts in the next couple of days. I’m sure Kurt will be ample help. Following that, since your interests seem to lie along those lines, you will draft, develop and implement laws governing the brothels. From there, we’ll see.”
“So does this mean you’ll stop dragging me home like a small child?”
His father stood, a slight, sly smile slipping across his face, one Reg remembered well from his childhood. “We’ll see what mood strikes me.”
Reg rolled his eyes. “That’s really not helpful.”
Heinrick met his gaze. “We’ll see how it goes,” he said. “Now go see your mother. I suppose there’s nothing to do about those shiners.”
“Kurt got ice on them immediately, but I got hit pretty hard,” Reg said, unable to help a grin.
“And you’re proud of it.” The older man sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes, you are far too much my son, Reggie. Come along, Wilbur,” he said and swept from the room.
Kurt let out a breath, sagging as soon as they were alone. “Reg, you really don’t know when to pick your battles, do you?”
“Hey now, I’d say I won that one, thank you very much.”
“Still, telling the king, even if he’s your father, that he’s got his head up his ass is not a wise decision unless you really like dungeons.”
“That’s why I’ve got you around,” Reg said and then grinned. “I think our next pursuit definitely requires some more research. Shall we go track down Darcy and Sarah?”
“If they haven’t left town,” Kurt murmured. “Yes, let’s,” he added with false cheer.
Reg laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the stairs.