(The ground is sandy but gives way to green and roots, the sand cloud the horses had been kicking up gives way until they're finally in the forest proper. The air is immediately cooler and wetter in the pine forest compared to the desert they'd come from. The sun has barely risen and still hangs on the horizon but the world seems so much darker in the forest under the green branches.
Darkness is usually a frightening thing. One can never know what lurks in the shadows or might come out from the night but the boy finds that he doesn't mind it here. It's nice, he thinks, looking around and taking in the new sights.
He's just a child, a boy that has only recently turned thirteen and is being rewarded for living another year. Like his father, a large man with an impressive air to him, he rides atop a white horse, beautiful and decorated plainly for the occasion but still with colorful patterns of gold, green, and blue.
"We've made good time," One of the men in their group exclaims cheerfully, "Good job, everyone."
Another man rides closer to the boy and his father and lets out a delighted laugh, "What do you think, your highness?" He asks the boy, noting the look of wonder in his eyes. Those eyes that are green like the very forest they're in and not the earthy shades of brown and gold the others have. "This is your first time seeing this place. Ah, what an honor it is to be invited on the prince's first hunt!"
"Save it," A large, scarred man on a dark brown horse complains, "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere. If you really want to impress anyone, you'll prove it later."
The young lord balks, mouth hanging open at the general and pulls back some where the lords laugh but if one watches carefully, they might notice that behind those smiles, some of their eyes watch the boy's back.
He doesn't have to see them to know. He can feel their eyes, like daggers at his back and he only keeps his eyes ahead. He's a boy only recently turned thirteen and he knows this occasion isn't to celebrate another year in his life so much as it is to celebrate surviving another year.
The group begins to share stories and gossip, singing praises for the young prince. An accomplished rider and a skilled archer training under the kingdom's greatest general. A bright and intelligent student that has exasperated his teachers with endless questions and discussion. Even the king joins in to brag about how his son— Khalid— will some day best him at their weekly board games and how he wrote his mother the most beautiful poem for her birthday. Even the old general chimes in to observe that it's only a matter of time before every man here is following the boy into battle some day… and that day will probably come sooner than later.
That last comment from the general gets some of the men to make a face, smiling politely but without any warmth. It's obvious that they aren't very fond of the idea of following the prince anywhere. Even now, they dislike riding behind him from an unreachable distance while he rides so close to the king.
The boy. "The young prince." "His highness." "Kid." "Khalid." None of these are "Claude" but it's clear that the two are one and the same even if "Claude" doesn't exist. At least, he doesn't exist yet.
He listens to them make their small talk about him. Not once is he ever invited to the conversation but he doesn't mind. Let the adults talk it out. He didn't really have anything to say to them anyway.
It doesn't take long for the group to set out on their hunt properly. They take to the forest in silence, bow and arrow at the ready, swords drawn, chasing trained hawks and following tracks and trails. Claude listens carefully as the general and his father share insight, teaching him how to read his environment to know what to expect and where to go.
Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for comes. The prince's first hunt. He takes aim with his bow, readying his arrow and aiming at an area where he caught movement up ahead. The others are quiet as they watch him ready for his first kill… and there's an excited murmur as a doe steps out from the brush followed by a grand stag.
"I love deer." He remembers his mother telling him, "They're our guardians. Our protectors."
Keeping his eyes ahead, he frowns. It's truly a shame, he thinks, to kill such a beautiful creature and for what reason? Because it was easy?
The deer suddenly look up, turning their heads to look back and then straight ahead. It's then that Claude makes eye contact with the stag and something seems so clear to him.
Danger, their eyes read.
I'm always in danger, he thinks to himself, feeling the eyes at his back, waiting for him to make his move. Ready to judge him for whatever happens next. Ready to stab him in the back. Shoot him from behind. He wonders what unfortunate hunting accident might happen today.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Darkness is usually a frightening thing. One can never know what lurks in the shadows or might come out from the night but the boy finds that he doesn't mind it here. It's nice, he thinks, looking around and taking in the new sights.
He's just a child, a boy that has only recently turned thirteen and is being rewarded for living another year. Like his father, a large man with an impressive air to him, he rides atop a white horse, beautiful and decorated plainly for the occasion but still with colorful patterns of gold, green, and blue.
"We've made good time," One of the men in their group exclaims cheerfully, "Good job, everyone."
Another man rides closer to the boy and his father and lets out a delighted laugh, "What do you think, your highness?" He asks the boy, noting the look of wonder in his eyes. Those eyes that are green like the very forest they're in and not the earthy shades of brown and gold the others have. "This is your first time seeing this place. Ah, what an honor it is to be invited on the prince's first hunt!"
"Save it," A large, scarred man on a dark brown horse complains, "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere. If you really want to impress anyone, you'll prove it later."
The young lord balks, mouth hanging open at the general and pulls back some where the lords laugh but if one watches carefully, they might notice that behind those smiles, some of their eyes watch the boy's back.
He doesn't have to see them to know. He can feel their eyes, like daggers at his back and he only keeps his eyes ahead. He's a boy only recently turned thirteen and he knows this occasion isn't to celebrate another year in his life so much as it is to celebrate surviving another year.
The group begins to share stories and gossip, singing praises for the young prince. An accomplished rider and a skilled archer training under the kingdom's greatest general. A bright and intelligent student that has exasperated his teachers with endless questions and discussion. Even the king joins in to brag about how his son— Khalid— will some day best him at their weekly board games and how he wrote his mother the most beautiful poem for her birthday. Even the old general chimes in to observe that it's only a matter of time before every man here is following the boy into battle some day… and that day will probably come sooner than later.
That last comment from the general gets some of the men to make a face, smiling politely but without any warmth. It's obvious that they aren't very fond of the idea of following the prince anywhere. Even now, they dislike riding behind him from an unreachable distance while he rides so close to the king.
The boy. "The young prince." "His highness." "Kid." "Khalid." None of these are "Claude" but it's clear that the two are one and the same even if "Claude" doesn't exist. At least, he doesn't exist yet.
He listens to them make their small talk about him. Not once is he ever invited to the conversation but he doesn't mind. Let the adults talk it out. He didn't really have anything to say to them anyway.
It doesn't take long for the group to set out on their hunt properly. They take to the forest in silence, bow and arrow at the ready, swords drawn, chasing trained hawks and following tracks and trails. Claude listens carefully as the general and his father share insight, teaching him how to read his environment to know what to expect and where to go.
Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for comes. The prince's first hunt. He takes aim with his bow, readying his arrow and aiming at an area where he caught movement up ahead. The others are quiet as they watch him ready for his first kill… and there's an excited murmur as a doe steps out from the brush followed by a grand stag.
"I love deer." He remembers his mother telling him, "They're our guardians. Our protectors."
Keeping his eyes ahead, he frowns. It's truly a shame, he thinks, to kill such a beautiful creature and for what reason? Because it was easy?
The deer suddenly look up, turning their heads to look back and then straight ahead. It's then that Claude makes eye contact with the stag and something seems so clear to him.
Danger, their eyes read.
I'm always in danger, he thinks to himself, feeling the eyes at his back, waiting for him to make his move. Ready to judge him for whatever happens next. Ready to stab him in the back. Shoot him from behind. He wonders what unfortunate hunting accident might happen today.
He releases his arrow.
… And he misses.
Behind him, he can feel those judging eyes.
And the memory ends.)