Luminescent

Chapter 3

A/N//: So, yeah. This chapter happened. Hope you like it. Go read the original comic by Diby_Doodle. She's great. And yeah. <3

Sunlight enveloped Harold as he stepped down from the carriage into the central shopping district of Dorthore. He embraced it, raising his face to the sky for only a moment. He'd spent so many days cooped up in the castle that it was due time he got out. And alongside him stepped out his husband to be, Erart. A gasp of surprise immediately ensued as soon as Erart's shoes hit the cobblestoned path. Harold glanced back at him. The prince was staring avidly at his surroundings, seemingly taking them in.

"I can't believe this is all yours!" Erart said, spinning in a swift circle.

In Harold's opinion, they weren't surrounded by much. It was just an open-air market and with Dorthore's pre-alliance spiraling economy, Forrod definitely had better markets than Dorthore did. Harold had seen them for himself. Still, he accepted Erart's compliment.

"Sometimes I wonder at that myself," Harold said as he started down the cobbled paths.

Erart wanted to see Dorthore, seeing as this would be his home from this point on. He deserved to know what this country had to offer. And seeing as how Erart loved the cake at dinner the night before, he could only assume his sweet tooth extended far beyond that.

"Are they coming with us?" he heard Erart ask from behind him.

They? Harold asked himself. At first, he was unsure of what Erart meant, but upon turning his head to look behind him, he realized.

"Oh," he said shortly, offering Erart a casual shrug. It was his personal guard that seemed to be bothering Erart. "They come with me to town whenever I go. I've stopped noticing them."

Erart's brows furrowed ever so slightly. "I'm not used to have an entourage following me and telling where I can and cannot go. Back in Forrod, I went where I wanted."

"They aren't here to monitor where I go," Harold said with a gentle roll of his eyes. "They're here to protect me."

"To protect you?" Erart asked, his silvery eyebrows shooting toward the sky. His eyes widened as well in what seemed like shock and surprise. "Harold. Where on the Gods' green Earth is your sword?"

Harold's stomach dropped. He knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and he had hoped to avoid it until much, much later. "I don't have one."

A palpable and awkward silence followed his statement. Harold counted the second that passed. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

"What do you mean you don't have a sword, Harold?"

Harold could practically feel the judgment radiating from Erart's person, and it was entirely uncomfortable. But he couldn't let it get to him despite its pressing need to dig deeper under his skin.

"Why don't you have a sword, Harold?" Erart asked, giving a variation of his very first judgemental question. " I always keep one with me, even if I feel safe with where I'm going,"

"Why would I have a sword that I don't know how to use?" Harold asked, refusing to connect his own eyes with Erart's.

There was another thick silence. Then.

"Okay, well, I see your point, but- Wait. How the heck do you not know how to use a sword? What kind of monarch doesn't know how to use a sword?" Erart asked, his voice reeking with confusion and surprise. Harold could also feel a little accusation in his voice. "What if someone happens to challenge you to a duel? What if they throw down the gauntlet? Do you plan on just saying 'oh I can't duel'?"