Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Brotherly Bonding

"So," Prince Avery asked, "what was it like being poor?"

"Avery," Bartram hissed, burying his face in his hands. "You can't just ask him that."

"Why not?" Avery said with a shrug. "I'm just trying to bond with our little brother."

"Then do it politely," Batram snapped.

The brothers made their way through the forest on their pilgrimage, the royal guard trailing closely behind them. Mulock had insisted on coming with Wheeler, still clearly suspicious of the other princes' intent. He rode at his side, eyes narrowed as he kept all five of the princes under sharp surveillance.

"What kind of food do poor people eat?" Avery continued. He paused, thinking for a moment. "Wait... do they eat?"

"What kind of question is that?!" Bratram asked, flabbergasted. "Of course poor people eat."

"But how can they afford it? They're poor."

Bartram sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I apologize on my brother's behalf. He's purposely trying to be obnoxious and provoke you and it's not funny."

Wheeler simply smiled. "Don't worry. I really don't mind."

The crooked grin slipped from Avery at the words, giving Wheeler a curious glance. "Wow, you really are nothing like Emeric. If I'd teased him like that, he'd have shoved me off my horse by now and then run me over with his."

"That's horrible," Wheeler breathed, his chest feeling rather tight.

"He likes to play nice in front of Father," Avery said, his grip tightening on the reins. "We had no idea if you'd pull the same shit once you were alone with us."

"What?" Wheeler gasped, eyes widening in shock. "Why?"

Osmund swallowed hard. "Because you're a magic user."

"And clearly Father's favorite," Bartram added.

"Just like Emeric," Avery finished.

From behind them, Roland and Radley nodded in silent agreement.

"Growing up, Emeric was always super nice," Osmund said softly. "But once his magic started to develop, along with father's favor, he realized how much power he had over us and turned into... well..." He sighed heavily. "Well, you know."

"Which makes me awfully suspicious you'll end up the same way," Avery stated blunty.

"Aveeeeeeeery," Bartram groaned. "You can't say that."

"I'm just being honest with him," Avery said sharply. The teasing in his voice had vanished, his expression dead serious.

"Well, I think Wheeler seems very sweet," Osmund piped up from beside them.

"Sweet?" Avery muttered. "You hardly know him."

"Yeah, well that's what we're trying to do now, but you keep making things awkward," Bartram snapped.

Following this statement, the brothers erupted into an argument, each talking over each other to the point where it was impossible to even make out what they were saying. Roland and Radley simply exchanged a long glance, neither saying a word as the fight continued.

Wheeler sighed, taking a deep breath before he suddenly screamed over his bickering brothers,"BARK!"

The boys instantly shut up, looks of confusion spreading over their features.

"Uh... what?" Avery said slowly.

"Bark," Wheeler repeated. "You asked what poor people eat. Well, in the winter, if we were starving, sometimes we'd have to resort to that."

Osmund swallowed hard. "Oh my God. That's awful."

"Yeah," Bartram breathed. "Holy shit."

"I don't want you guys to pity me," Wheeler said firmly. "But I want to make it clear that my experiences are completely different from Emeric's. You have my word that no matter what happens, I will never be like him."

"That's far easier said than done," Avery muttered. "In my experience, power seems to corrupt those with even the best intentions--"

"Um, maybe we should change the subject?" Osmund cut in, laughing nervously. "Why don't we... uh... play a game? How about... eye spy!" Before anyone could even respond, Osmund cleared his throat. "Okay, I spy with my little eye... something... uh..." Osmund glanced around at his surroundings. "Yellow."

An uncomfortable silence followed as the brothers looked amongst themselves, noticing the fact that the only yellow thing in sight was the hair on their heads.

"Okay, um... is it Avery?" Bartram said slowly.

Osmund grinned. "No it's not."

"Is it you?" Wheeler asked.

Osmund shook his head.

"Is it Roland?"

"Nope!"

Mulock looked like he wanted to die as the princes continued to list off the name of every single one of them.

"Is it Wheeler?" Bartram finally asked.

"Yes!" Osmund cheered. "You got it! Okay, let's do a second round. I spy with my little eye, something--"

And that's when something flew past his head.

"What the hell?" Avery gasped, eyes narrowing. "The fuck was that?"

As the words left his mouth, a second shot out from the bushes, striking a guard behind them. A spurt of blood erupted from his neck, the arrow still protruding outwards as he fell from his horse.

Instantly, the princes erupted into a panic.

"Shit," Avery said, grabbing for his reins as the guards frantically removed their weapons. "We're under attack-"

Before he could even finish the sentence, a stream of arrows shot out, striking two more guards. Osmund let out a cry of terror, tears filling his eyes.

"Get behind me," Avery snapped, holding out an arm to shield Osmund as he reached for his sword with the other.

They could see flashes of the assailants moving through the trees now, more than they could have ever anticipated. A few suddenly shot out in front of the horses, causing them to rear back. While the other princes managed to maintain control of their animals, Osmund was thrown backwards, landing with a sickening thud against the ground.

"OSMUND," Avery screeched, his voice wrecked with the same horror reflected on the faces of the others.

The second Osmund landed, several attackers darted forward, grabbing him roughly by the arms as they dragged him to his feet. Osmund tried to struggle, but one quickly brought a knife to the small prince's throat.

"Drop your weapons or we kill him," a voice sneered. It's owner was a giant of a man, a deep scar running diagonally across his face. From the way the others watched him, it was clear he was their leader.

The guards exchanged anxious glances amongst themselves, their swords still clutched tightly in hand.

"I said, drop your weapons," the man snapped. "Or do I have to prove just how serious I am?" As he spoke, the assailant brought his dagger to the skin right below Osmund's chin. He flashed them an ice cold smile, pressing the blade against the prince's throat with just enough pressure to draw a drop of blood.

"Do as he says" Avery barked, letting his own sword slip from his hand.

Hesitantly, the guards followed suit, weapons falling to the ground, leaving them now utterly defenseless, the attackers watching them from all sides.

"Smart boy," the man murmured. "And if you continue to do as I say, you might just get to live."

Osmund was trembling violently, tears spilling from his eyes as the other princes watched on in terror, their faces ashen and panicked.

"That is," the man continued, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "As long as you can all prove yourselves useful to me."