Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

Etan had one arm back to keep her behind him as he stepped up to confront the man. Leashed violence poured off him in waves, as if he were a mere breath away from murder.

And the Clown seemed to know it. He'd dropped all pretense and stood on the balls of his feet, eyes locked on the Prince's.

They were of height, the Prince's shoulders broader, while the older man seemed… harder somehow. She didn't understand the tension between them, why the Prince would allow a common Jester to speak to him that way—or why he would explain himself to the man—yet that was exactly what he did.

"Before you say one more word," Etan said, "I remind you that you vowed to help. You said—"

"And I will. But this? You cannot possibly be certain—"

"I know this like I know my own name. So, either you help me, or break your vow."

"That's… you cannot…"

The Prince took a deep breath. "Please don't make me order you, Borsche," he said quietly. "Please don't make me kill you."

"What is going on?" she cried.

Borsche shook his head, but Etan turned back to her, his eyes shining with passion and fire. "I am going to vow my life for yours, Ayleth. It's a tradition in my people. An unbreakable vow. It means I will marry you or allow my life to be taken if I fail."

"A promise that may be far easier to fulfill than any of us would wish!" Borsche snarled.

Etan whipped back to face him. "Your belt, Borsche? Will you make yourself a liar and a vow breaker to the crown?"

The two men stared each other down. But, without breaking eye contact, Borsche unbuckled his belt, flipping it out of its bindings and snapping it off like a whip, before nodding once, his jaw tight.

Etan's shoulders sagged a hair. "Thank you. I owe you."

"You have no idea," the man muttered.

"Ayleth," Etan turned and took both her hands, "Do you wish to love me?"

"I-I…I do."

His face lit up, as if he glowed from within. "Will you be my wife?"

"I will," she breathed. "Though I do not know how we will—"

"The Light help us," Borsche whispered. But he tugged at the belt in his hands and said to her, "Turn your hands over so you lay them in his palms."

She frowned.

Etan smiled encouragingly. "I make the vow to you. It is for you to accept, or not, Ayleth. So, my hands are full, but yours are open."

Blinking, heart beating in her ears, Ayleth looked at their hands. He held her loosely, his palms open and flat. With a single stroke of her fingers, she turned her hands in his until her palms were up, and he cupped them with his own, much bigger, his fingers reaching up her wrist.

Then he looked into her eyes and she felt that jolt again, only this time from his gaze.

"Ayleth, you are my heart." As he spoke, Borsche began wrapping the belt around their hands in a figure eight, tying her to him. Ayleth's heart raced. "I vow that I will never take another. You are the center of my soul, my world. The heart of my life. I vow to you, my life for yours, my last breath for yours, my blood spilled that yours might be saved."

She sucked in, tears pinching her throat.

"I vow that I will never take another," she repeated in a whisper. Borsche jerked his head back and looked at her sharply.

"Ayleth, you don't have to—" Etan said, his voice rough with emotion.

She gave him a look, then turned to Borsche. "What are the words?"

The man looked like he might refuse them at first, but then he cleared his throat. "You are the center of my soul, my world. The heart of my life."

"That's right." She licked her lips and repeated after him. "… I vow to you, my life for yours, my last breath for yours, my blood spilled that yours might be saved."

"You are mine," Etan whispered, his eyes wide.

"You are mine," she repeated, her voice laced in awe.

"I witness this vow," Borsche said, his voice hollow, but determined. "And vow to protect the love of these two, even to death. And where they may meet an enemy," he glanced at both of them ironically, "I vow to stand in their stead that they might stand together."

Etan's eyes cut to Borsche then, anticipation in his gaze.

Borsche took a deep breath. "As it is said, so it must be." Then he tugged the belt off their hands with a snap that whipped it across her palms, slicing them in a thin line where the edge of the leather had laid against them. Ayleth cried out, but Etan took a dagger that Borsche had produced from somewhere and sliced his own palm, then clasped their hands.

"No longer blood sworn enemies," he breathed, eyes locked with hers. "Now blood sworn to protect, and to love." Then, his eyes shining with joy, he leaned towards her, hesitating only when their mouths were mere inches apart. "May I kiss my bride?"

Ayleth's heart sang. "Please!"

"God help us all," Borsche whispered.

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