#dragon humors can supposedly cure all sorts of illness which is one reason why Gozaburo is sending Seto to slay a dragon

[alectoperdita]

for 1/24: seto is a knight under king gozaburo and jounouchi is his squire and they get sent on a mission to slay a dragon

Thanks for sending this prompt! It was a neat one and it definitely lit a lot of neurons in my brain. But I'm starting to get the sneaking suspicion, from this attempt and how loooong it took me to write May you be blessed with fortune and (mis)adventure, that I'm not fit for writing medieval fantasies. So as much as I wanted to finish this one, I struggled with the specifics, especially convincing dialogue.

So rather than let this languish forever in my notes app, I thought I would put what I did manage out instead of WIP Snippet Sunday. Everything I know about knights in fiction comes from Tamora Pierce's Tortall series and the Merlin TV show, and this is very much more of the former than the latter.

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

What an unceremonious homecoming.

The throne room was virtually empty save for the handful of lords, mainly ministers, gathered at the foot of the dais. Every one of them was a surly old man, with the surliest seated on the throne itself. The only person Seto cared to see welcome him home, his little brother, was nowhere in sight.

The sparse audience, the king's impassive expression, the invisible yet unmistakable border drawn between him and the royal retinue—it put Seto on high alert. Years of practice allowed him to maintain an impassive expression as he knelt before the throne, lowering his head as etiquette dictated before he spoke, "Sire."

From behind, rustling clothing and a soft thud reminded him of his squire's presence.

"Hail to the king," the man muttered. While he managed to control his volume, for once, the salutation reverberated through the empty chamber.

"Welcome home, Seto." The king gazed at him down the length of his nose.

He kept his head bowed. Neither he nor his squire before the king granted them permission to rise. Which he failed to do for the duration of his questioning. Seto tucked his clenched fist out of direct sight and gritted his teeth as he gave his report on the border situation. Nothing he said was news to the king. Seto was merely regurgitating months of reports previously sent by the garrison's commander.

Whenever he heard the person behind him shift restlessly, he tensed, even if he never paused in what he said as he held the king's steely and unflinching gaze. When he finally had nothing left to say, the silence dragged out interminably. It was deafening in its volume as the ministers traded glances with one another.

But no one dared to speak before the king did.

At last, Gozaburo shifted, smiling indulgently at Seto as a portion of the formality chipped from his posture. "Seto, you are a shining example of valor for the realm. Every knight in the realm would do well to follow your lead."

"Thank you, sire. You're too kind," he said despite the sourness invading his taste buds. A cold dread flooded his body when the king's grin widened.

"There truly is no one else that I can entrust with a mission of such importance," the king continued.

Seto sucked in a sharp breath. Then as it always did, the other shoe dropped.

***

"I don't understand how you can be so calm about this! He's trying to kill you!" His squire was pacing a hole into the rug. After a pause, he added, "And me!"

It was a miracle the blond man managed to keep his mouth shut until they were behind closed doors. It had taken years and more than a few literal beatings (though through no intervention of Seto's) before the necessity of discretion sunk through Joseph's thick skull.

Ignoring the rant, Seto collapsed into an armchair. His once-perfect posture transformed into a defeated slouch. Their most recent quest and the vast distance they traveled to return here took its toll on him, mentally and physically. Needless to say, not even Seto had expected to be called for an immediate audience with the king, only to be handed an even greater challenge.

Some might even say impossible.

Even though they were in his chambers, he knew better than to speak too freely or too truthfully. The castle walls had ears.

Seto's voice remained perfectly flat as he spoke, "His majesty honors us by tasking us with a mission of such great importance."

Joseph froze in the midst of his pacing. The squire spun to gape at him. "A dragon, your royal highness. Your father is sending you to your death at the jaws of a beast!"

Seto sagged deeper into his seat. He didn't need to be reminded. Felling a dragon, while difficult, could be done. But none had achieved such a feat without a company of men at minimum. Seto had been tasked to do so armed only with his wits, might, and the questionable support of one unruly squire.

He squeezed his eyes close and pinched the bridge of his nose. It did little to stave the headache building in the base of his neck and creeping up into the crown of his head. He merely listened as the other man shuffled in the background. Probably resumed his worried pacing.

So he was startled when warm fingers grasped his chin. With wide eyes, he looked up, locking with Joseph's rich brown eyes. The room was significantly dimmer with all the curtains drawn shut to block out the light. The squire's golden brow was furrowed by concern. Nor did he resist as the man pushed up on his jaw and tilted his head over the chair's back.

"You're getting another one of those headaches, ain't ya?" Joseph asked.

Seto should scold him for his diction. For his forwardness. But the pressure crushed his skull until it threatened to crack like a melon. A whimper threatened to break free.

"Okay, you need to lie down."

Without waiting for an answer, the squire heaved his aching body and hauled him across the room. Seto hit his bed with a soft oof. For a hysterical moment, it felt as if the down mattress threatened to swallow him like the maws of a dragon. But it passed when Joseph guided him against the pillow. Then, Joseph fiddled with a piece of cloth, soaking it in a basin of water before laying it over Seto's forehead and eyes, obscuring his haloed view of the squire.

"Close your eyes and rest for a bit. We were on the road nonstop. I'll go and see if the healer has any tinctures that can help." Clothing rustled as Joseph rose to his full height. The bed bounced as he removed his weight.

Without thinking, Seto's hand shot out blindly but nabbed the other man's sleeve. A momentary weakness that filled him with self-loathing.

"Why can't you always be this subservient?" he needled. At least his voice didn't crack.

Joseph's calloused fingers gripped his wrist, squeezing every so gently before he removed Seto's grip. "Maybe you should try being less of a royal pain-in-my-ass the rest of the time. I'll be back."

Seto dug his fingers into the blanket, merely listening as the chamber doors squeaked open and shut. Then he was alone.

***

Joseph Wheeler hadn't been Seto's first choice for a squire. He hadn't even been the last choice. But that was because he wasn't anyone's preferred choice.

Joseph was of common birth. He had no ties to the royal family or a noble house. A peasant through and through. The only reason he'd been allowed to train for the knighthood was because of a ridiculous tradition instituted by Seto's grandfather. Every five years, the kingdom administered a test open to the children of common folk, selecting one to join the current cohort of pages. A slim and unlikely pathway to the upper class if one had the conviction (or in most cases, parents with the money and resources).

No one could say why Joseph had been chosen out of a dozen others. Maybe the knight master and other trainers thought it'd be good for a laugh.

Seto, who was on the verge of becoming a squire himself, had certainly wrinkled his nose at the selection when he heard.

The blond had been at the upper limit of ages allowed. Most noble children would've been embarrassed to be a starting page at that age. Joseph came to the castle without friends or advantages waiting in the wing. No one expected him to last.

The only question was what ran out first. The boy's meager resources or his fortitude or his luck.

But Joseph endured. Not always well or graciously or intelligently. But he dug his heel, bore through all the mud and hazing from his peers, and worked diligently enough to impress enough instructors to advance. Even Seto had to admit he was a skilled fighter.

Serving as a prince's squire was usually a coveted position. Something for which the qualified sons of noble houses jockeyed. So how did Seto end up with a commoner as his squire?

In the weeks preceding Seto's knighting ceremony, multiple lords and ladies of the court campaigned to him directly on their children's behalf. But that stopped after his father, King Gozaburo, delayed the ceremony and sent him to the neighboring kingdom for two weeks.

When he returned, he found himself saddled with the literal bottom of the barrel, Joseph.

Gozaburo claimed this was for the best. Now no noble house could seek to control or unduly influence Seto. But Seto couldn't help but think, like so many other occasions in his life, that his own father was sabotaging him.

It was no secret that he and Joseph didn't get along. They fought every time their schooling and training overlapped. The whole castle knew that. He thought the commoner too crude and stupid, and Joseph maintained Seto "had a stick up his ass."

Again, nobility and servants alike made bets under the table. How long before the prince murdered the commoner in a fit of temper? How long before the squire did something that irrevocably shamed his master?

But if Seto and Joseph shared anything in common, it was the ability to grit their teeth and bear through their sorry circumstances.

So they persevered. Individually at first, and now together. Close quarters always made for odd friends.