Perilous Jaunt Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Peter
"He's pissed at me, isn't he?" I asked Esme from across the fire.
We rode on the tamed horses all day long and set up camp before it got dark. We didn't even stop to put my makeup back on when the sky cleared. Needless to say, my ass was sore as hell. How do knights sit on horses all day? It must be even worse for them because they wear full suits of armor. I would choose to be a farmer over a knight any day, mostly because, if you're a knight, you stand around on guard duty all day and there is a chance you might get stabbed by somebody. That's something you never hear about when you listen to all of the heroic stories about knights. Back in Lowpive, I always used to feel sorry for the knights who stood watch outside of my door all night long. They were probably missing out on spending time with their families and seeing their children grow up. I always tried to offer them some wine to make them feel better, but they always claimed that they were fine. I knew they were lying, though. If I had to stand all night in some piece of metal, I'd want to drink as much wine as I possibly could! Then again, if the knights assigned to watch over me were ever caught drinking, my father would have probably punished them. That was another thing I never liked about being a prince. All of those nice men were standing around while I slept or was being taught some dull lesson by my tutors. They didn't sign up to be knights just so they could wipe my ass all day. They wanted to make names for themselves and fight in great wars. That was also why I tried to never ask them for anything. One time, I asked my dad if the knights could have a day off from protecting me because they were always so vigilant and polite. He got really pissed off when I said that. Then, he just went on for an hour about assassins, pickpockets and witches wanting to hurt me because I was his son. His speech, which I nearly fell asleep during, ended with him reminding me that, when I became the King of Lowpive, I would have at least ten knights with me at all times. When he finally let me leave, I was cussing under my breath. As if I wanted to be a king in the first goddamn place.
_ _ Esme looked up from stirring the fire with a long dead tree branch she had found. She then took the stick out of the flames and set it aside after a quick glance at the horses, which Dante had tied to a nearby tree with some rope he found inside their saddlebags. Even in the curtain of night that was wrapped around us, I could tell that she was searching for a good lie.
"He's just on edge," Esme said. "The thought of Capres chopping off his head tightened his asshole right up,"
I acted as if I didn't notice that she avoided answering with a "yes" or a "no". "How long do you think he'll be mad?"
Esme thought about her answer before speaking again, taking a longer time to think than before. "He'll be better in the morning. Shit, I don't even think he'll remember this in a few days,"
A spark of hope lit inside of me and I couldn't help but smile. "Really?"
"Oh, yeah," Esme said. "Once we're out of Capres' Kingdom, I'm sure Dante will be fine,"
Again, I pretended to not notice that she was avoiding to specifically say whether or not Dante was upset with me. "Has he ever been this mad before?"
Esme wasted no time answering me. "No,"
"Great,"
"Say," Esme said, as she uncrossed legs and stretched them towards the fire. "You never told me why you ran away,"
"Who said that I ran away?" I said. "For all you know, my Family disowned me,"
"Sure," Esme laughed. "That's why you came all the way to the other end of Alpis to drink alone in some tavern,"
My fur bristled with surprise and I tried to act normal. "Dante told you about that?"
"Of course! But he wasn't able to tell me why you're here, tied up and being his gimp instead of sitting on a big ass throne in Lowpive,"
"Why do you even give a shit?" I snapped at the kangaroo, hoping she would just drop it.
"Because," Esme said, her ears standing tall, "I'm curious why a tiny prince like you would trade a nice palace for a big bad world full of thieves and murderers,"
"It was because I never wanted to be a king!"
Esme tilted her head and grinned. "Oh? Fucking whoever you want and having all the gold in the world wasn't fun enough for you?"
"It wouldn't have been like that!" I said and fell back against the tree that I was tied to. "If I was a king, I'd have to sit on a throne all day and listen to people's problems. Then, when I wasn't doing that, I'd be managing my money and my knights to make sure everything was in order. Everybody would bow when they met me and call me 'My Lord', even if I asked them to just call me by my first name. I wouldn't even be able to have a boyfriend either, except in secret, which is almost as bad as having no boyfriend at all! My father would even marry me off to some random girl before I became a king so I could have kids to 'further the Family name'! I wouldn't be able to just be myself.
"Even not having to fight in a war wasn't enough to make me stay! I could have sent all the knights in Lowpive to war in my place and I wouldn't have even felt a little bit better. How sad is that? I get out of fighting in a war because I'm royalty and I still wouldn't give a shit!"
"You wouldn't go into battle with you men?" Esme asked, sternly, interrupting my rant. "The same men who would lay down their lives for you?"
The question caught me off guard, especially due to her bitchy tone. "Well...no,"
"What kind of king doesn't risk his own life for the sake of his people?" Esme demanded.
I looked down at me boots and the dirt around them. "I dunno,"
"A dick-less asshat," Esme answered. "A ruler who'd rather sit on his throne than take a stand with his men in battle doesn't even deserve to rule a pile of horse shit!"
"How is a king supposed to rule from a battlefield?" I asked. "He's supposed to guide and protect his people, not lead a battle charge. And what if he gets killed? That wouldn't be very responsible to his people. Fighting is for soldiers and ruling is for kings,"
Esme curled her lips back with dissatisfaction for my answer. "So, just because they're soldiers, they're lives are worth less than a king's?"
"Well, not exa-"
"They have families!" Esme interrupted. "Soldiers have wives and children, just like kings do. Just because you put a crown on a man and give him some fancy-ass title, he isn't better than any of the people he rules,"
"A king shouldn't risk his life. It's not his job! He's meant to oversee a kingdom and he can't do that if he's dead,"
Esme's long and silent stare told me that she still wasn't convinced. "What do a king, a merchant and a beggar all have in common?"
What? "Um... I dunno,"
Esme leaned in close to the fire so that the wild flames illuminated her tense blue eye. "They all bleed,"
Silence filled the chilly air around us. Even the fire's crackling grew quiet.
Esme continued, "Everybody bleeds. It's what makes us all equal. There might be a God or a Jesus. Who knows for sure? There might even be some goddess with four tits and two cunts. But what I do know is that we all die when we get stabbed in the gut or shot in the neck. So don't give me that bullshit about how a king shouldn't fight in his own battles. No king should ask anybody to do something that he would never do. Any king who does has no right to rule because he's forgotten why he's a king in the first damn place,"
Another moment of silence passed.
"So why are you here?" I asked the kangaroo, making sure to emphasize "you" as if I had said "scum".
"Well," Esme said, "Dante's my friend and I figured I should help him out. Getting some gold would be nice, too,"
"No," I said. "Why are you out here, walking around in the wilderness instead of having a normal life with a family and kids?"
Esme raised her right hand and held up a single finger in the air. "Rule one of being on the road is be careful about who you tell your past to. You never know who someone is or if they'll use your past to stab you in the back,"
I was quiet.
"Rule number two," Esme raised a second finger, "is never tell anybody your real name,"
"Why the hell are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because," Esme lowered her hand down, "you've already broken both rules,"
I shrugged. "So?"
Esme went on to explain. "You got drunk and told Dante who you were. Look where you're at now, tied to a tree in the middle of the woods and returning to your father. Now, if you hadn't told Dante your name, you would probably still be back in that tavern, drinking and sucking cock to your heart's content. But, you did and are sitting here in the cold, and on the run from William Capres, who would love to personally claw your eyes out of your head. You never know who someone is or what they could do with your past. For instance, I could use you to get at your brother and sister. After all, I'm sure your father would gladly give them up for the heir,"
I gasped in disbelief. "How did you-?"
"Know about Dalton and Erica?" Esme finished my thought. "It's like I said, you never know who somebody really is out here,"
"Who are you?" I asked, fearfully.
"Haven't you been listening, Tiny Prince?" Esme teased with a smile. "Out here, you can't tell anybody who you really are. If you do, you'll end up dead, or worse,"
"What kind of a life is that?" I said. "You can't trust anybody, even your friends? How can somebody carry on like that?"
Esme sat still, not moving or even twitching her fingers. The only movement that I saw was the occasional blinking of her left eye as she spoke her next words. "Sometimes, you don't choose this kind of life. It just comes along and turns everything you loved to ashes. You try to put back the pieces of your broken dreams, only to fail. In the beginning, you remember just how different you used to be, but, as the days go on and the years pass, you find yourself dwelling on the past less and less. Sometimes, you remember the scars on your soul and feel the same pain you did on the day you lost everything...but only sometimes. Forgetting things is just something you have to do. Life's better that way,"
My resentment for Esme had suddenly been quenched by her words. I even began to feel a small amount of pity for her. While she hadn't told me why she had ended up roaming Alpis like Dante, I could sense by her tone that she didn't have a choice. What happened to her? Was she always like this, cursing and making dirty jokes? Or did she used to be soft and innocent? As strange as it was to imagine Esme as a gentle person, it was saddening nonetheless.
"I guess nobody really chooses what a happens to them," I said, "most of the time,"
"You know," Esme said, shifting in her seat, "I've seen a lot of shit. Some good. Some bad. I've met men who don't like to fuck and I've ran into women who would like nothing more than to be knights. There's people who like men and people who like women. A few people like both and some don't like either. But, as different as people can be, there is something that connects us all. Pain. Not just the pain you feel when you get cut, but also the pain when you lose a loved one. Everybody hurts at some point or another. That's life! There's no escaping it. But, no matter what you are going through, someone else has felt exactly what you have. I remind myself of that on the days when I don't feel like getting out of bed. Maybe it took them a while, but that other person was able to push through their pain and be happy. Pain... It hurts us and forces us to learn from it.
"So, you're father was an ass and hurt your feelings? Fuck him! Leave when we drop you off! Look at what he's done to you! Learn from it! Become a better person and never do to others what your father has done to you!"
After Esme's long-winded speech, we didn't say anything. I didn't talk, mostly because I was thinking about how my dad was forcing me to be a king, even though I didn't want to. What would I do differently if I had kids? Would I force them to do something the rest of their lives that they despised? If they were gay, would I force them to hide their relationships for the sake of our Family?
No.
_ _ When Dante finally returned from his hunt with a dead wild goose, he didn't speak to me. He hardly even looked over at me, either.
While we ate, Dante told Esme about how Pan had once tried to sell him some "male enhancements". They both laughed at the story and I chewed on my food while sitting on the opposite side of the fire in silence. There was no point in me trying to talk. Dante probably would have just ignored whatever I said.
Soon, the food was gone and we threw the bones away. Dante went to go make sure that the horses were secure for the night and Esme walked over to tie my muzzle close with the rope gag she had taken out of Dante's knapsack.
"Good night, Tiny Prince," the kangaroo whispered to me. "We'll repaint you in the morning,"
Before I could ask her not to call me Tiny Prince, the rope was tied around my muzzle and I couldn't speak a single word.
Esme and Dante then put out the fire, just before I fell into a guilt-ridden sleep while the crickets chirped.