Lance awoke the next morning in a groggy state, hair resembling a haystack from the amount of tossing and turning he did while trying to sleep. Between Bael’s incessant needling and the mounting fear of facing someone that despised him, sleep evaded him for several hours. It was the unexpected aroma of coffee and fried pork that roused him from his slumber.

There sat Bael, still nestled in his layers of blankets, shoveling runny eggs and strips of bacon into his mouth now rimmed with specks of grease. A glass of orange juice rested betwixt his legs, dangerously close to tipping over. The noise of Lance stirring must have alerted him as he looked up with cheeks puffed mid-chew.

“Oh, you’re awake. Yours is over there,” Bael garbled as flecks of yolk-colored spittle flew from his open mouth. His hand holding the fork pointed lazily to another plate accompanied by a mug of coffee resting on Lance’s nightstand.

Lance blinked a few times before his brain caught up his current state of consciousness. His eyes opened wide as he stared at Bael as if he’d gone mad. “Did Abi see you?! She must have if you have your own plate of food. Oh, you must have given the poor woman a fright,” Lance groaned as he settled in to solemnly eat his own breakfast.

“No, actually. I went down to find something to eat because this one”- Bael’s fork now pointing at Nyx who was atop the dresser eating her own food -“was starving and couldn’t wait for you to wake up. Which by the way you slept in for an awful long time, but that’s unrelated.”

Lance shot him a look of displeasure, to convey just how much blame he was putting on him for his fitful sleep.

“I was scrounging up some food, and she comes into the kitchen humming a tune without a care in the world. Then she clicks her tongue, saying ‘oh you must be Lance’s friend’ and just goes on about her business. Nice lady, that one. Maybe a little too unconcerned for her own well-being mind you.”

“Huh, well I suppose I can’t complain then.” Lance pauses before looking back down at Bael’s neglected face. “Except about you. Have you ever considered chewing with your mouth closed?”

“Sorry, Your Majesty, I forgot my place for a moment. I won’t trouble you again,” Bael replied with a snort of derision.

Lance sipped his coffee before speaking, “It doesn’t have anything to do with social status. Not spraying saliva everywhere when you talk is just basic human decency.”

“There you go again, trying to apply your human customs to me.”

Once again, Bael drove a wedge between them by alluding to his ancestry. Sure, he had ears that extended into a sharp point and hair of an unnatural white color, but wasn’t that really where the physical differences ended? Why was he afraid of humanity?

“It’s true your fairy family probably didn’t teach you things like that if they didn’t have a concept for them. But right now you’re in a human city and about to go to an even larger one; it’s easier to not draw attention to yourself when you don’t behave like a wild man.”

Bael hummed without responding, and Lance sighed, assuming he was being ignored. As he ate his own food his heart swelled with gratitude for having a hot meal first thing in the morning. Since it was cooked with love by someone who knew his palate better than anyone else, everything was made to his exact tastes.

Peeking over the rim of his coffee cup, Lance observed Bael after his comments on his eating habits. A smile creased his lips when he noticed him grasp the fork in the exact way Lance was, as opposed to his previous overhanded method. Food was still shoveled into his mouth at an alarming rate, but he was trying to keep his mouth closed while doing so.

Lance still winced when Bael sipped his juice with a loud slurp, but it was progress he supposed.

Once breakfast was complete and the dishes were set aside to be picked up by a servant, Lance continued his morning ritual with a shower (after coercing a reluctant Bael that no, a shower two days in a row was not excessive). When they were both clean and properly dressed, Bael had an idea to propose.

“I know when we went to investigate Odolwa we didn’t come properly armed, mostly because I underestimated the threat he posed” -Bael paused to grimace- “therefore, this time I want us to be prepared for what may come next.”

“If you want weapons we have a small armory in the house. It’s mine more than anything, so no one will miss anything we take,” Lance replied matter-of-factly.

Bael gawked at him with his mouth agape.

“What? Isn’t that what you want?”

“You? The rich kid? What cause could you possibly have to take up weapons training?” Bael tried and failed to conceal an amused smile spreading across his face.

“Have you not ever heard of a hobby?” Lance asked as he escorted Bael down the hall from his bedroom to an inconspicuous door at the opposite end.

The interior of the room was minimal in decoration, a major contrast to the rest of the home. In the center of the room was a pair of practice dummies, but aside from that there was only a sparse assortment of weaponry mounted along the walls.

Bael whistled. “Forgive me for assuming as much, but considering how easily I downed you in the forest I didn’t take you for the martial type.”

“Like I said, it’s a hobby,” Lance reminded him. “I’ve never actually fought another person with my life on the line. I was in a weapon studies club in school, nowadays I just spar with my friends.”

“Here I thought you would be part of a drama group if anything,” Bael commented as his hand brushed over a layer of dust on one of the pole arms.

“No, just the yearly stage play is it for me. That was more forced upon me than anything, but I wound up liking it so it wasn’t for nothing.” Lance picked up his rapier, which had become his favored piece of his collection these days; it was also the one he felt the most proficient with. “I don’t have a spear like the one you used, do you have a preference?”

Bael picked up the pole arm he’d been admiring and gave it a quick twirly in his hand. “I think I can make do with this lance, Lance,” Bael answered with a shit-eating grin.

Lance frowned. “I’m not sure if I should trust your capabilities with a glaive if you can’t even properly identify it,” he retorted sternly while walking in Bael’s direction.

Bael began to mock him, parroting back his speech in a nasally tone. This earned him a firm strike to the center of his back from Lance with his sheathed rapier, causing him to yelp.

“Prove it to me then, instead of mouthing off like you usually do,” he commanded as he started clearing the center of the room to make space.

This challenge proved to motivate Bael immensely. Without further egging Lance saw he was planting his feet on the opposite side of the room, lowering his posture into a crouching stance with the glaive pointed back in his right hand. The left hand raised to curl his first two fingers in a beckoning motion.

“You’re terribly confident considering how often I easily overpower you,” Bael boasted.

“For once I’m not necessarily afraid for my life, in fact, considering how much I know my dying inconveniences you I would say there is no person in the world safer for me to contest. Plus, I may lack confidence in most things, but my prowess with weapons is not one of them.”

Bael’s nostrils flared. “I can only hope I live up to the immense trust you’ve placed with me,” he returned sardonically.

Lance unsheathed the rapier and decided to wield the sheath in his hand as a secondary weapon. He assumed a fencing stance with his dominant leg forward and blade angled up, pointed directly at Bael.

“On your guard,” Lance barked, signaling the start of their duel.

Predictably, Bael was the first to lunge forward. He rushed within range of Lance’s blade before swinging the glaive hard in a wide arc. Lance was able to gauge for such an opening blow and parried it, but Bael’s sheer strength still caused him to buckle under the force.

Bael grunted with a frown, displeased with the outcome of his opening gambit. He jerked the weapon back as Lance swung at his side with the sheath. This cycle repeated itself a few times more, each assault being differentiated only by the direction of his strike.

It was painful to do so, but Lance was able to block him each time. The signs of his exertion were poorly hidden, yet he would not show weakness to him. By staying defensive, Lance’s plan was to let Bael wear himself out with strain. While unable to remain stoic, his posture remained firmly planted in place.

Then Bael altered his strategy. Despite his heavy pants, his response time was impeccably quick as his body dropped even lower than it already was to try and sweep Lance’s legs out from under him.

Lance was able to recoil one leg but the other was caught in the swing, resulting in him stumbling backwards for just a second. A second was all it took for Bael to reel back and make an attempt at swinging down at him with the butt of the glaive. This continued to be his folly, rushing in hard and fast. With a large heavy swing Lance was able to block it with his blade once again, albeit requiring him to further brace it with his other hand pressed against the flat of rapier.

Bael became incensed, now charging at Lance to close the distance to jab him. Lance narrowly parried by knocking him away with the sheath, causing Bael to stumble as he was jarred out of his forward motion.

This was the opening Lance needed. He hooked his right heel behind Bael’s foot and jerked forward, causing him to fall backwards with a resounding thump. The tip of the rapier was then immediately at his throat, Lance staring down triumphantly.

The two paused to catch their breath, each heaving arhythmically. Lance’s body shuddered as he came down from the adrenaline high, reveling in how excited it always made him feel. The sword stayed positioned next to Bael’s jugular, even as he attempted to make a move to stand up.

“Forcing me on my back, are you? You certainly know how to get right to the point,” Bael teased, hissing as the tip of the blade pressed into his skin while he spoke.

“Perhaps you won’t underestimate me next time,” Lance stated, unwilling to let Bael’s flirtatious tendencies shake his resolve. He allowed the blade to drop away from his neck, twisting it so the flat of the blade was dragged across Bael’s chest.

Bael leaned up slowly as Lance removed the sword from posing any danger to him, until finally he was sitting up right on the floor. “No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having you as an instructor, Master.”

Lance sheathed the rapier then reached a hand down to assist Bael with standing up. “I’ll consider it, but don’t call me that. Call me by my name, remember?” He wasn’t irritated like the last time Bael tried to use nicknames with him; this time he just didn’t believe he could tolerate the implications of such a thing.

Bael accepted his hand with a bark of laughter.

It was under the heat of the midday sun that the two of them departed from eastern Clock Town towards Ikana Canyon. The road was well travelled between these two regions, as opposed to the vast overgrowth on the paths to Snowhead and Great Bay. A few passersby tipped their hats to Lance in passing, followed by hushed whispers as they noticed the cloaked man sitting on his horse’s rump. Being the focal point of rumor-mongers was nothing new for him, but even he had to admit it was becoming excessive.

Bael didn’t mind it, however, content to play a ditty on a newly purchased flute he’d insisted Lance buy on their way out of town. He’d claimed his original was destroyed in the fight with Odolwa and he dearly missed it. The sincerity of his request surprised Lance, normally expecting that typical haughty tone of his. When he smiled in gratitude Lance could feel the warmth spread in his chest. Bringing others joy never ceased to make him happy.

The song Bael played was not elegant, but the joyful lilt managed to ease some tension weighing on Lance’s mind. That is, until they rounded a bend deeper into the canyon and the music stopped and Bael shifted his body.

“So why does this person hate you?” Bael chimed with a question Lance had heard repeated to him ad nauseam the night prior.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on, I’m about to meet her soon enough since we’re going there right now. If you tell me, I can make sure I don’t somehow bring it up.”

Lance stiffened, but remained silent with his focus on the road ahead.

“Laaaaance, please just tell me,” Bael persisted, prodding Lance in the side with light jabs of his fingers.

“I bet it’s an ex-girlfriend,” Nyx commented from her perch atop Oberon’s head.

“What?” Bael asked as his voice raised, shifting around so both of his hands were clutching Lance’s shoulders.

Nyx clicked her tongue, wings lightly fluttering as she let the weight of her assumption settle around them. “Oh come on, don’t act so surprised B. What other kind of relationship would a person get this worked up about, desperate to keep it a secret? It’s clearly a scorned lover, without a doubt.”

“Is that true? Is that why you don’t want to talk about it?” Bael’s voice almost sounded guilty as he asked this.

“No, no, gods no,” Lance answered with a shake of his head. To imagine having dated her was the most far-fetched scenario he could possibly imagine for himself. “She’s about as much of the opposite of an ex-girlfriend to me as a person could be.”

Bael returned to his previous position, a noise of satisfaction escaping his lips as he did so. “That’s more in line with what I thought. You’re not right about everything, Nyx.”

Lance could sense that if he asked for more information he would be inviting a scathing remark about his romantic history, be it a presumptuous one or entirely factual. The ride persisted in silence for several minutes as they crested over a hill, the visage of Ikana City rising in the distance. They would be there soon, but the creeping paranoia festered in Lance’s mind making him fixate on the previous conversation obsessively. Eventually, it became too much and he needed to ask.

“What do you mean by what you said earlier?” Lance finally asked, his words rushing out nearly startling himself.

His two companions both jolted at the surprise, Bael even going so far as to chuckle before answering. “Was that eating at you? Look, I don’t mean anything by it, it’s just pretty obvious you’re kind of a cherry boy. That’s all, really,” he assured.

Well, he got his confirmation. Lance was not certain if he was grateful to know this or if it just existed to irritate him more. He let out a snort of derision.

“Don’t be mad,” Bael teased, poking him in the side once again with a playful touch.

“I just don’t understand what about me would give you that notion in such a short amount of time,” Lance huffed.

“Listen, you’ve seen how I am, people have different responses to it. You’re not very subtle when you’re flustered by my jokes.”

Instead of answering, Lance reverted to ignoring his attempts to assuage him. It had been many months since he had visited Ikana City, and as usual he was in awe of its magnitude in comparison to the more modest simplicity of Clock Town. Buildings that were three or four stories tall were common within the metropolis, which would shock anyone who learned of the city’s bleak history for the first time.

A hundred years ago the land was besieged by a curse, most likely cast by the opposing kingdom that felled Ikana centuries ago. This curse did not let the citizens of Ikana rest peacefully, instead forcing them to exist as undead who roamed the land, destroying any and all life they might come across. It is again thanks to the hero, as well as the work of a Clock Town scientist, that the land was purified and the threat of undead nullified.

Knowledge of this tragic history tickled the back of Lance’s mind as he saw the bustling thoroughfare of citizens going about their daily business. Running errands, perusing the shops, and otherwise blissfully unaware of any wrongdoings the world might have in store for them. Eventually, they began to approach their destination and Lance’s palms began to sweat.

In the center of town, yet isolated from the other buildings, sat a two-story house. Over the doorway was a sign that read “Dr. Thorne’s Clinic”. Even from their distance the sound of howling dogs and yowling cats could be heard clear as day from the interior of the building, intermingling with the sounds of wailing children.

Before Lance got off his horse to knock on the door, he felt there was something he needed to say; he was incapable of dropping the previous discussion despite his many attempts.

“Bael, I just want to say that yes you are correct that your off color jokes do tend to irk me. It’s not, however, because I’m what you call a ‘cherry boy’. In fact, that name is not applicable to me at all.” With that said, Lance quickly slid off the side of his horse to march to the door of the clinic. His legs felt like jelly, and it took everything within himself to not crumple right then and there.

“Wait, seriously?” Bael balked at him.

Lance ignored him with a smug smile of self-satisfaction. With that small boost to his confidence he rapped thrice at the door, awaiting an answer with bated breath and gritted teeth.

The old wooden door began to creak open, revealing a raven haired woman similar in height to Bael -which was to say much shorter than himself- with a friendly expression.

“H-hey Rachel, long time no see. I was wondering if you could help out my friend and-”

Her friendly smile sagged and her dark eyes narrowed with animosity. She slammed the door in his face without a word, leaving Lance to stand there with mouth agape.

Bael stepped forward with a furrowed brow looking at Lance expectantly. “I thought you were exaggerating before. What’s her problem?”

Might as well explain it to some degree now, it really couldn’t hurt things more than they already were. “She’s Aryn’s girlfriend, Rachel. As Aryn’s childhood best friend, she’s always just kind of hated me.”

“Okay, so I was close,” Nyx proclaimed with a proud air.

“Almost only counts with horseshoes and bombs,” Bael playfully teased her back. “I wish you’d told me sooner, I wouldn’t have had to worry so much. Stand back and watch.”

Lance had no idea where this was going, and he had a sinking suspicion he was not going to like it.

Bael pounded the door with his fists and stood back haughtily on his heels, rocking back and forth while waiting in anticipation. The door cracked open once more, albeit just enough to see Rachel’s seething stare from the other side.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? Go away before I call the city guards,” Rachel commanded, voice full of venom.

“Dr. Thorne, may I call you Rachel?”

Her blank stare answered that question.

“Dr. Thorne, we’ve never met so forgive my forwardness, but my lover” -Bael made a large display of waving his arms back towards Lance- “and I had some business in town and were wondering if we could trouble you by requesting some assistance.”

Her eyes squinted as she looked between them, and for a fraction of a second the door began to slam once more before being interrupted by a voice behind the door.

“Dr. Thorne? Why are you hovering at the door like that? Your patient in room B has been waiting for almost half an hour.”

“Begin taking their vitals, Jorah. I’ll be there in just a moment.” The sounds of footsteps walking away signified their departure as Rachel cut her eyes back at Bael. “You both may come in, only because I can’t have a pair of dithering idiots banging at my door all day. I’ll answer your questions, and then you leave. Understand?”

Bael grinned and the door swung open to allow them entry. He turned his body around to look at Lance, an expression that indicated he felt like he was winning whatever competition they were having between the two of them. “Ready to go, darling?”

Lance was firmly rooted to the spot, his face like a fish gasping while out of water since Bael began his exchange with Rachel. He couldn’t fathom the audacity Bael could have to just outright lie like that to her with such an outlandish idea. Them, a couple? In what twisted reality could that ever be the case?

Trapped in his own thoughts, it took a pinch on the back of the thigh and an arm looping through his to bring him back to reality. He jumped at the sudden contact as well as the pain, staring daggers down at Bael, who looked as satisfied as a cat presenting a fresh kill to their owner. Except in this situation, he was the prey and the owner it seemed.

“Come on, pretty boy. I’ve got our in, don’t squander it already,” Bael whispered as he pulled Lance along.

Before this was all said and done, Lance was going to kill him for this.