The Prince and the Raven, Jared/Jensen, 1/8
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Chapter 8 | ART
Part One - Home
Once upon a time a young prince named Jared lived in the Kingdom of Padalonia. It was a magical kingdom, not just because it was a happy place or that its people were happy, or that they could perform love spells or make it rain, or find a lost child. No, those gifts were common to all the Nine Kingdoms. The people of Padalonia were particularly special because they could shape fire.
Through the centuries, the power had waned through intermarriage with neighboring kingdoms, but most Padalonians could still light a lamp or a hearth fire with a snap of their fingers. The gift was strongest in the nobility, but there were still many who could shape fire as well as fold and shape metals, as easily as bakers made bread. As a member of the royal family, Jared came from a long line of the strongest fire users, the Fire Lords, who were able to shape flame into a weapon and had been known to call on the planet itself to bring lava or fireballs when needed against their enemies.
Jared was the only child of Marian and Jothbert Padalecki, rulers of Padalonia. King Jothbert was a Fire Lord of great power and repute.
Young as he was, Jared showed signs that he too would carry on that family tradition. From early on, he could make all the candles in his room burn or go out. But he would only know the full extent of his gifts once he reached maturity at sixteen,
But sometimes lighting hearth fires was the least of Padalonia’s worries. Things weren’t always peaceful in the little kingdom.
Some fifteen years ago, the Dregnah alliance broke their treaty. They swooped out from the desert, using their power of enhanced speed in an attempt to take over Padalonia. In order to survive, King Jothbert banded with the other members of the Nine Kingdoms to defeat the Dregnah. A grueling war ensued, but they were finally able to push the savages back into their desert lands. It had been many long years since the attempted coup, but the Kingdoms were ever vigilant.
Growing up, Jared couldn’t get enough of the stories of his father’s epic battles and how King Gothrick, the Dragon of Ackles, had fought side by side with him, shifting into dragon form right before his father’s eyes.
Teethed on adventures of his father’s derring-do, Jared couldn’t wait to grow up. But that was not to say his youth was spent in angsty yearning to be an adult.
Jared was a very happy child, always full of bright smiles and laughter. His parents were happy as well and doted shamelessly on their only child.
Marian and Jothbert had tried for many years to have children, to no avail. Then, when both had nearly given up hope that they would ever have a child of their own, the gods had smiled upon them and brought them Jared.
Now in another kingdom, in another land with different parents, young Jared might have grown up a spoiled and selfish boy. But that was not the case here. Sweet-tempered and kind, Jared was the darling of the castle. And possibly in another kingdom, in another land, an only child like Jared might be lonely, but such was not the case here, either, for he was surrounded by a loyal group of friends, Chadrick, Danneel, and Genevieve, all children of nobles of the court. This rambunctious crew took classes together, ate together, played together, swam together, but were most famous for the mischief they got into.
In spite of the occasional bit of trouble, Jared was the sweetest child. It was said he could charm the birds from the trees if he had a mind to. But mostly he charmed the cooks out of the sweets they hid high up on the kitchen shelves and cupboards, out of reach of young fingers.
As the kingdom watched the young boy grow, all who met him understood that there was greatness in him as well as kindness. The people could easily see a time where, many years from now, he would rule the kingdom of Padalonia as well and fairly as King Jothbert himself.
But such was not to be.
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“Chadrick, are you sure? Won’t we get in trouble?” Jared whispered as Chad grabbed Jared’s hand and tugged him along the long corridor toward the throne room. Quickly linking their hands, Danneel and Gen flew like small kites behind him as they rushed headlong down the hall.
“Not if we don’t get caught!” Chad gave them all a wicked grin.
“Pappa said he didn’t want me there today.” Jared’s voice lowered as he imitated his father’s deeper tones. “He said it was ‘too serious a matter for a young boy’.”
Chad giggled and then stopped suddenly, motioning them all to flatten behind a pillar as a servant bearing a tray of drinks rushed into the hall from the other end. The servant stopped in front of a hanging tapestry, maneuvered their tray onto one hand, pushed the panel aside, and disappeared behind it. Jared’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Side entrance to the hall,” Chadrick whispered smugly. “Knew it would come in handy one day.”
“Wait, wait!” Danni grabbed Chad’s arm. “Are we sure? I heard the King of Ackles is covered in scales and breathes fire.”
“Cooool!” Gen breathed, her dark eyes saucer wide, her small hand squeezing Jared’s in excitement. And Jared had to admit he had more than a passing curiosity about the mysterious mountain people of Ackles. The whole kingdom was abuzz with the news of their visit. All Jared knew was that during the war his Pappa and the King of Ackles were the best of friends, that his Pappa had saved the other man from a band of attacking Grognoids, the troll-like attack creatures of the Dregnah. Jared didn’t quite understand why his father would need to save a man who could take the form of a dragon and breathed fire, but he had. It was just one of the many tales of derring-do he and his Pappa had gotten up to during the war. All Jared knew was that, after all these stories all these years, he really wanted to see a dragon in real life. But still…
Jared chewed on his lip in hesitation. “But Pappa said…”
“We’re talking dragons and everything, Jare! Geez, don’t be such a scaredy cat.” Chad squeezed Jared’s now sweat-damp hand. “We all agreed!…Dragons, just think of it!”
And Jared had. He’d hardly been able to sleep the night before, more excited that he would admit at the prospect of seeing a dragon in real life-his father’s friend and ally, and the source of so many stories Jared had heard growing up. Right here in his home, dragons…
“Okay, yeah.” Jared breathed out, his heart drumming in his chest. “But we can’t get caught!”
“Not if you can keep quiet, Jay. We just slip through the door and stay low. We should be able to look through the partition behind the throne without anyone even knowing we’re there.”
Jared nodded reluctantly. It was a good plan, but then Chad was six months older than seven-year-old Jared. Chad was almost eight. He knew stuff.
“Okay, let’s do this, then.” Jared grinned and watched a wide grin split Chad’s face as he eased the tapestry aside and opened the plain wooden door behind it. The door opened onto the front of the large hall. A long, intricately carved partition ran the width of the room just in front of them. It formed a walkway for servants between the dais with its matching thrones and the stone wall-the perfect cover for them to make their way unseen to a good vantage point. On the other side of the partition his Mama and Pappa were sitting on their royal thrones facing the hall. It sent a thrill of danger down Jared’s spine.
As Jared and the other children crept further into the room, they were met by raised voices.
“I beg of you, Jothbert, please reconsider. The Vale people are not to be trusted. Everyone who has entered into a pact with them has had misfortune visited upon them. I have contacts in the River cities who say nothing good will come of it.”
The speaker, a tall, distinguished man in shimmering, iridescent black armor was pacing back and forth in front of the King and Queen in obvious agitation. Just beyond him stood three rows of similarly-clad warriors carrying the green banners of the Ackles kingdom. The hall was packed with gaily-dressed courtiers from Ackles as well as nobles from his own country. Jared knew that below in the kitchens, the house staff were madly preparing for this evening's feast celebrating King Gothrick of Ackles’s visit, one of the last before winter storms would close the roads to Fire's Heart, the capital city and seat of the Padalonia kingdom.
Jared craned his neck but could see no dragons anywhere in the room. The closest thing he saw to a dragon was the pattern of distinctive scales on the black armor of the Ackles warriors. But no dragon, not a curl of smoke or flicker of flame anywhere.
Setting aside his disappointment, Jared crawled along with the others on hands and knees behind Chadrick, careful not to make any sound. Soon they were crouched directly behind his parents’ thrones. They could look out easily over the gathered crowd through the many small openings in the screen between the carvings.
His father rose and clapped a large hand on the King of Ackles’s shoulder. “Gothrick, my dear friend. I appreciate your warning, but so far the King of Omundson has been nothing but kind, offering us rare medicines from the east. Thanks to King Timothay’s supplies, we were able to squash an epidemic of Scarlet Phage spreading through several villages in the south.”
“Most likely set off by the man himself!” King Gothrick snarled venomously. “I fear for you and your people, Jothbert…”
Jared bit his lip and measured the distance to the door. No wonder his Pappa hadn’t wanted him here today. There were certainly no all-important dragons, only an angry king.
He glanced around. Dani and Gen looked similarly crestfallen. Dani gestured toward the door, and Jared nodded as she and Gen started to crawl to the exit. He looked over to signal Chad, but his friend had crept to the end of the partition, staring at a pair of matched black warhounds the Ackles had brought as part of their huge retinue. Jared waved his hand, but Chad’s back was toward him. Resigned, Jared started toward his friend.
Peering through the screen, Jared could see the spiked collars around each of the dogs’ necks; he hoped they didn’t scratch themselves on it. He was halfway to Chad when he felt a faint prickling sensation on the back of his neck, like he was being watched. Jared looked behind him, but no one was there. As an afterthought he peered out the screen, right into the piercing green eyes of an Ackleite warrior.
Jared froze, waiting for the man to point him out, or sound the alarm. But the Ackleite did nothing, only tilted his head and watched Jared curiously through the screen. After a few seconds, Jared released a relieved breath and tilted his head, so he could better see the warrior… no, the boy, for he was smaller than the men behind him, and was still watching him.
Studying the Ackelite through the diamond mesh, Jared realized he was only a few years older than himself, maybe ten or eleven, if he were to make a guess, with dark blond hair showing under his black helmet and startling leaf-green eyes with a slight dusting of freckles across his beautiful face. In fact, Jared had never seen a more handsome boy. He was standing with an older boy, just to the left of the Ackles king. Both boys' armor was finer than any of the other warriors standing at attention behind them, the scaling more intricate. And both had beautiful black fur cloaks thrown over their shoulders. Jared’s gaze lingered in particular on the jet black blade, perfect for his size, that hung at the green-eyed boy's side. He nearly whistled in admiration at the dragon scale-etched sword. His own Pappa had refused to give him a sword yet, said he needed at least another couple of years’ training before he would be big enough and good enough to be given a real blade. Until then, he had to make do with his wooden practice blade.
Jared flushed with embarrassment as he noticed the Ackleite’s gaze had tracked his, and suddenly he was sporting a lopsided grin as his hand tightened in obvious pride around the pommel of his blade. When the boy looked back, that smile made Jared feel warm inside, a fluttery feeling in his gut.
The voices in the room suddenly rose higher in volume, jerking Jared’s attention back to King Gothrick.
“…I can’t stay here and watch you sleepwalk to your doom, Jothbert! This is a dangerous path you have set yourself upon, my friend, and I fear it will end in disaster. The Kingdom of Ackles will have no dealings with people of the Vale, and neither should you.”
With those parting words, King Gothrick turned to leave. He put his arms around the shoulders of both boys, as he ordered his men to form up. Just before they started to march away, the green-eyed boy turned and flicked something toward Jared. Even in the loud din and commotion filling the room, Jared could hear the ping as something bounced toward him. Then a small, iridescent black marble rolled under the wooden screen, straight into Jared’s hand. Jared snatched the marble instinctively and shoved it in his pocket as the Ackleite soldiers turned in formation, following their King out of the hall.
The hall was in an uproar, his father shouting for Gothrick to stay and at least enjoy the banquet he had planned. Jared tried to catch one last glimpse of the departing Ackleite boy, as the hall doors were flung open and a cold icy breeze swept through the chamber, but he quickly disappeared from view.
Chad was suddenly by his side, gesturing frantically for them to leave. They scrambled back to the side door and escaped out into the hall where Dani and Gen waited. Breathless with nervous excitement, they ran down the halls and out into the garden to compare notes on what they’d seen.
It was only later that evening, lying in bed as he rolled the beautiful black marble between his fingers, the King of Ackles' dire warning sounding in his ears, that Jared realized who the two boys standing in front of the phalanx of Ackles warriors must be: the princes-King Gothrick's sons. The younger, the one with the green eyes and the beautiful sword and armor, could only have been one person: the younger son, Jensen.
Jared took to carrying the marble in his pocket with him everywhere, often rolling it between his fingers. For some reason he felt better when he held it. A warmth emanated from the stone, and when he held it up to the light, its iridescent coating shimmered, colors shifting in the sun, forming shapes like birds or dragons, then clouds. Jared spent endless hours watching the shapes dance along the marble's surface. Sometimes he had that same strange sensation, like he was being watched. Heat would curl in his belly when that happened, and he thought again and again about the beautiful boy with the green eyes.
It was only months after that fateful meeting with King Gothrick that Jared’s happy world began to fall apart.
His Pappa had explained to Jared that he was going to make a treaty with the river people, and that their king, Timothay, was going to visit. When Jared asked him about the concerns he’d heard the nobles whispering, his father brushed them aside, saying, “King Timothay is a good man, a man of science. He’ll help drag this kingdom into the 17th century and make us a trading hub. With our ability to shape fire and forge metals, together we can become the industrial capital of the world. No one else can create complex metals like allarium or steel. And the world is hungry for them. Omundson tells me he can sell as much as we can make.”
And as soon as the winter snow melted and the roads once again became passable, Omundson arrived. A strange, tall man with wild grey hair, riding a pure white horse.
Jared disliked him almost instantly.
Jared wasn’t sure why he didn’t like the man, but he knew it had something to do with how the man’s piercing blue eyes took on a mean, calculating look when his Pappa wasn’t looking, or how his smile never seemed to reach his eyes. Even the marble clenched in Jared’s hand couldn’t calm him; in fact, it felt colder in his palm when Omundson was in the room.
At first Omundson only visited four or five times a year, but as time went on, and their plans became more ambitious, his visits became more frequent. By the time Jared turned thirteen, Omundson had become a regular fixture in the castle, always whispering and planning with his father.
Of course, Jared was honest enough to realize his dislike of the new king might also be because his Pappa spent less and less time with Jared and his Mama. What little time he was able to spend with them, Omundson was always there, too, going on about his ambitious, sprawling plans to modernize the kingdom and watching, always watching with his cold, glittery eyes. He frightened Jared, who had clung to his Pappa’s hand as though he were only three instead of the almost-thirteen he was now. When his father asked him what was wrong, Jared didn’t know what to say; he would just hug his father harder.
When his Pappa started to become ill, the sunlight slowly faded from Jared’s world. The symptoms were minor at first: a stumbled step, then a cane. Soon the only way Jothbert could move around the castle was in a ‘wheel chair,’ a device Omundson said was of his design. Yet, sick as he was, Jared's father continued to work on his and Omundson’s plans almost obsessively now, unwilling to compromise on his ambitious plans to make Padalonia the smelting and forging center of the world.
“Come, Jothbert, I have had an epiphany! You must look at this,” Omundson enthused as he breezed uninvited, into his father’s solar. Jothbert, Marian, and Jared were out on the balcony enjoying the sunset as they sipped tea and talked about their day. It was one of the few Omundson-free times the family had, and Jared savored their time together.
“Come back in an hour, Timothay, you know this is family time.” Jothbert’s tone was firm.
Marian glared at the approaching man. “Really, sire. We need our time.”
“Time waits for no man, Queen Marian. And neither do peddlers from Penask. One is outside right now, and he has a load of Octarian ore for sale. We need to jump on this now, Jothbert! I have an idea for blending steel with the Octarian oxide. I think it will make for a greater strength in our blades and plowshares.”
Jothbert sighed. “Can’t you just go buy the ore yourself? I’ll talk with you about this later.” He shook his head impatiently.
Omundson’s hand clamped down on Jared’s shoulder, startling him. “Is this any kind of example to give your child? You know how tricky Penask peddlers are. I don't want you thinking I wasted your money. You need your money for other things. Like buying nice dresses for your lovely Queen.”
While Jothbert smiled fondly at his wife, chuckling, “That’s true, she deserves the best,” Jared didn’t miss the way Omundson’s gaze skated lasciviously along his Mama’s body. Or how his mother moved her needlepoint frame over her chest, glancing away, a grimace of distaste on her face. Jared’s anger ballooned. He shook the heavy hand off his shoulder. “Can’t you tell when you’re not wanted?” He turned to face Omundson. “My Pappa told you to go away.”
“Jared!” His Pappa cried. “Apologize immediately.”
“A bit touchy, isn’t he? Must be close to puberty. Don’t worry, soon you’ll have girls of your own.” Omundson chuckled dirtily and ruffled Jared’s hair, a sly grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it, Jothbert, just come, come. You can do the haggling, then I’ll fill you in on my brilliant plans after.”
He saw the defeated look on his Mama’s face and the anger on his Pappa’s, and suddenly Jared knew he’d been completely outmaneuvered.
“I’ll be right with you. And Jared, you will apologize at dinner.” King Jothbert rolled his wheelchair off the balcony, following Omundson to the main hall.
Jared remembered one of the few times he had his father to himself, on the eve of his fourteenth birthday. It was a warm summer’s evening, and his father had taken a rare nap. Jared had come by to check on him, and finding him awake, helped him into his chair, wheeling him out onto the balcony off the solar so they could watch the sun set together. Even to Jared’s untrained eyes, his father looked gray and unwell. His chestnut hair, so similar to Jared’s own, bound back by a leather thong, hung lifeless and limp, and his normally bronze skin was faded, his lips tinged an unhealthy blue.
His father smiled gently at him. “Don’t be afraid, Jared. Death comes to all of us sooner or later.” Jared’s eyes grew wide. He had never heard his father speak in such frank terms before. He gripped his father’s hand more tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
“I have had a good life. And gods willing, I am leaving you the kingdom in better shape than ever. With all of Omundson’s advancements Padalonia will be positioned for success over the coming years.” His father gazed at him fondly, his trembling hand cupping Jared’s cheek. “But the achievement I am most proud of is you, my son. You are my pride and joy. You have always made me proud, and I know you will serve our people with distinction.”
“Pappa, I…” Jared swallowed hard. “Is there nothing we can do to make you well? Someone else, someone not Omundson, to tend to you? I fear he has something to do with your sudden illness, Pappa!”
Jothbert smiled wanly. “Nonsense. Nonsense. I am receiving the finest of care, my son. The gods choose our time, not us. For now, let us enjoy this beautiful sunset. And when it comes time for the Great Firebird, Jawa, to fly me home, do not mourn me. I will be in a better place, sitting at Oradin’s table in Jogansrule, waiting to be reunited with you and your Mama.” His father side-eyed him, a faint smile curling his lips, “But not until after many, many long years.” He chuckled softly.
“But I don’t want you to go! I want you right here with me, with us. By the gods, Jawa can wait!” Jared scrubbed angrily at the tears threatening to fall. “Damn Omundson and his projects! You were healthy and happy before he came. Send him away, Pappa. I beg you.” Jared knelt down beside his father’s chair, certain of the truth of his words.
“Hush, hush now. Omundson is a good man and is helping us. One day you’ll understand. One day you’ll see. Be patient, Jared, the gods are looking out for us. But enough of that. You’ll be fourteen tomorrow. Don’t think I’d forgotten!” Jared’s head jerked up, and he stared at his father in surprise. His father laughed. “Oh, I’m not that far gone yet. Let’s go inside. I need you to fetch something from my wardrobe for me, a package wrapped in dark blue-green cloth.”
Jared pushed the wheelchair back into the solar and helped his father back into bed. Then he raced over and opened the wardrobe door. He quickly spied the package. It was long and heavy. Thick blue ribbons wrapped it tight.
Jared’s hands shook as he presented it to his father, but his Pappa only waved him away. “Oh no, this is for you, you open it. I think it’s finally time.”
Jared tore into the ribbons, quickly untying them and pulled back the wrapping. He whooped out loud in happiness when he saw what was inside. A blade, a real blade of his own. And so large! He carefully drew it from its black leather sheath and gasped in awe.
“I had it made large enough for you to grow into. I don’t think my sword would have been long enough for you now.” Jothbert gazed fondly at him, his hand ruffling Jared’s shoulder-length hair. “I would have you think of me when you hold it,” his Pappa said softly as Jared raised the blade. It was beautiful, gray-blue with a shimmering finish that looked like blue flames licking the surface. Ancient runes ran the length of the blade, with the Padalecki crest crafted into the silver pommel. Jared didn’t think it was his imagination that the blade seemed to hum with power. He could imagine himself like the Fire Lords of old, channeling his gift when he came of age, his sword bursting into fiery death before his enemies’ eyes.
“It’s beautiful, Pappa.” Jared twisted the blade in his hand so that it caught the light. He glanced over at his father and grinned. “I love it.”
“I have watched you at practice, and you make me proud. Gods willing when you come of age, you will join the ranks of the Padalecki Fire Lords.”
Jared’s throat grew suddenly thick. He had no idea his father had been making time to watch him practice or shared such dreams for him. His heart swelled.
“Our family motto is inscribed in the runes, just as on my sword, Fire Song. The Fire Within Shall Burn Forever.” His Pappa beamed with pride. “Of course, you’ll need to wait for the Change to learn its true name. That will cement the bonding.”
Jared’s mouth gaped at his father’s words. Of course a sword like this would have its own name! With all the magic imbued in it, it was almost alive. Excitement sparked through him, and without thinking, he hefted the sword into the air and concentrated, reaching out to the sword. The runes started to glow faintly, and the pommel grew warm in his hand, heat shooting up his arm through his body as whispers swirled in his head. Suddenly, Jared’s whole body stiffened, and he burst out, “It is called Death Dancer. Our enemies will tremble before it.”
When the sword’s hold on him slackened, Jared sagged in sudden exhaustion. His head was swimming as he stumbled to take a seat, his heart racing a mile a minute. It was only as he struggled to catch his breath that he realized the significance of what he had just done.
“I just-”
“A good sign! Astonishing, that you were able to tap into a part of your powers before the Change. A very good sign, my son.” Jothbert beamed in pride.
Jared rubbed at his chest, as his heart started to settle. “Maybe I won’t try that again until I reach majority,” he muttered ruefully.
“Probably a good idea.” His father chuckled and relaxed on his pillows. “A good name and a sure bond. You will be a powerful Fire Lord one day, of this I am sure. Now go, go show it off to your friends. I know you’re dying to.”
Jared reluctantly slid the glowing blade away in its scabbard, his heart bursting with excitement and pride. “I will, I will. Thank you, Pappa! Thank you.” And after another exuberant hug, he ran to show Chadrick and the girls.
But in spite of a few good days, Jothbert’s condition continued to decline. By the fall, he was completely bedridden, though he continued to meet with Omundson daily to pore over the status of their various projects.
A pall of sadness fell over the castle folk, Jared in particular. Even the sweets the cooks tried to tempt him with couldn’t bring a smile to his face as he watched his father falter more and more each day.
Jared found himself glaring resentfully at Omundson when the man came to his Pappa’s sick bed, interrupting what little time he and his Mama had left with him. Huddled by his bedside, Jared watched in horror as his Pappa reached out a trembling hand to the man and in a whispery voice rasped, “Timothay, I am dying. I beg of you, care for my wife and son as if they were your own.”
Omundson had stared down at his Pappa with his cunning blue eyes and squeezed his hand gently. “Have no fear, Jothbert, I will treat them as if they were my own kin.”
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