King Him, Not Me

The two managed to lead the group of people to the safe zone without any problems. On the way there, they were silent. Both felt a bit awkward after the events that took place hours ago, Winston a bit embarrassed about Barin seeing him naked.

The young men are currently making their way to the next trial, Barin not comfortable with how quiet the shorter is. He looks at him without turning his head, “Winnie, are you alright?”

The shorter nods before smiling softly, “During our argument, when you called me ‘Winston’ instead of ‘Winnie’, I almost didn’t know you were shouting at me. You never call me by my name.”

“I attempted to when we first met as kids,” Barin protests as he looks in front of him. Winston chuckles, “And then you instantly called me ‘Winnie’. You never told me where you got the nickname from.”

“I honestly don’t know,” the taller answers. Winston, “We should hurry if we want to make it to the arena, only three spots left.”

Barin, “Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence before the two took off running at full speed.

~

Barin slides to a stop as Winston slowly catches up to him, panting as he stops and another person jogs past him. After the person moved under the arch door, the iron bars slammed down against the stone floor to prevent anyone else from getting in. This marks the end of the first half.

“Welcome,” Jeffery says as he flies towards the three, “there will be a short meeting with the fifteen people, including you three, that will be held later. For now, please follow me.”

The three follow the fairy as he flies down a long hallway, Winston looking to the taller person on his left. Barin’s on his right.

He’s an Elven man, his skin is a pale-ish brown like Madris. His hair is slicked back into a long braid, the color the same tone as the smooth stones around them. His eyes, however, are a frosty purple. He’s also muscular, very rare for an Elf. It’s not as rare as it used to be though.

The taller looks down at Winston without turning his head, “Congratulations on making it this far. I honestly wasn’t expecting you to make it since you were late the first day of this competition.”

The shorter laughs nervously, “Same here. I’m Winston Free and the guy next to me is Barin Kings.”

“Ruith Yelric, I’m Madris’s younger brother.”

Winston, “Eh? Really? She must be proud of you.”

Ruith hums softly as he looks to the floor sadly, “I suppose.”

“Alright,” Jeffery stops flying forward when he gets to a door, “this is the only room here with two beds. The Humans will rest here.”

The Elf blinks, “Why’s that? Are you two working together?”

“In a way, yes,” Winston answers, “I’ll explain the situation later.”

Barin glares at Ruith as he follows Jeffery down the hall, sucking his teeth before he marches into the room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Winston muses with a smirk as he follows the taller, closing the door behind him. Large beds are along the wall in front them, bookshelves in between them. There’s a large table with a bowl of fruit and a bottle of wine in the middle of the room, an archway leading to a balcony. There’s a desk with paper, a quill, and ink next to the door. The walls are white and the floor is made of marble.

“This is much nicer than I thought it would be,” Winston comments as he and Barin slowly walk around the room, their eyes looking at everything.

Barin, “I can’t believe Cornelius Free had this place built for a bloodbath.”

Winston, “I can’t believe he had the builders design the rooms so nicely.” he coos as he walks onto the balcony. His eyes follow his hands as he slowly graces his fingertips along the railing. Old memories he buried deep in his mind slowly resurface, his expression saddening. He knew all the other rooms were just as nice as this one, but there was a reason this one had two beds. This was where the Free family would stay whenever a competition at the arena came around; this balcony used to have the king and queen’s thrones on it.

Winston still remembers the first time he saw a man lose his head; as a child, it left him with nightmares. His older brothers and sisters would pry fun at him during the day, but comfort him during the night when their mother couldn’t. She was either busy dealing with Cornelius or talking with the tyrant king’s sister… Winston’s aunt.

Even as a child, Winston knew his father was a bad man. He knew he had to be stopped, he knew that one day rebels would come to claim his death. They didn’t kill him in the end, they locked him away at the bottom of the castle. He’s still there, his hair longer than his body.

Winston doesn’t clearly remember the last time he saw his father and mother. He knew he got most of his features and personality from his mother, but his eye color from his father. That’s probably the only thing Winston has that qualifies him to be a Free, his honey-yellow eyes. All Frees have them, male or female.

“Winnie,” Barin calls as he walks towards the shorter, Winston snapping out of whatever trance he was in. The taller blinks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Winston answers softly, “I was just thinking about something.”

The taller slowly nods before he nods his head behind him, “I was wondering if you wanted to down the wine with me. After all the shit we’ve been through, I think we’ve earned it.”

The shorter hums then follows the taller into the room, ignoring the chairs as they move to sit on the table. In a few more hours, they’d be briefed on the events that will take place next. They’ll see the council face to face.

“So,” Barin begins as he opens the bottle, “what are your plans after all of this is over and I’m king?”

Winston, “Go back to the farm and live my life until my death,” he grabs the wine after Barin holds it out for him, “the castle life isn’t for me.”

“I think you’d make a good king,” the taller says as the shorter tips his head back with the bottle pressed against his lips, “you’re compassionate, smart, caring.”

“I’m not brave,” Winston passes the bottle to Barin, “I’m not strong, and I don’t have a lot of confidence in myself.”

“You’re also very childish,” Barin chuckles as he drinks the wine, Winston blinking. He huffs, “You are too! And selfish and self-centered and rude.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the blonde rolls his eyes as he shoves the bottle against the shorter’s chest, “tell me something I don’t already know.”

Winston slowly takes the bottle then lowers his eyes, “You’re compassionate… and caring. You’re brave, smart, kind, vulnerable when you see another person’s sorrow. You’re also very confident in your abilities.”

Barin slowly blinks, watching Winston as he takes a sip of wine. He averts his eyes, “I’m not as confident as most think.”

The shorter hums softly then passes the bottle back, Barin downing the rest of it in one gulp. Barin wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, “You’re oddly shapely for a man.”

Winston blinks then blushes once he realizes that Barin was talking about his body shape, his eyes slowly widening as more blood rushes to his cheeks. He covers his face, “Please forget about seeing me naked!”

“It would’ve been a bit more pleasant if you had boobs,” the taller muses as he smirks slyly, “and your muscles kind of ruined it for me too.”

“I’m not as muscular as you!”

Barin leans forward, “You have a nice ass too,” he continues to tease, laughing when he sees Winston’s ears turn red.

~

Morgan smiles softly as he looks at the fifteen people standing in front of him, humming approvingly when he sees Barin and Winston. He favors these two and hopes for their success.

He didn’t intend on having a favorite contestant, but watching the bits and pieces of Barin and Winston’s journey changed his mind.

“Both of them would make wonderful kings,” he says mentally.

“They almost look like a couple. They’re always next to each other,” Jeffery says mentally, slowly smirking slyly.

Morgan, “Before we explain the next event of the competition, Canvas will be telling you the tale of the tyrant king. I want you all to listen, hear his mistakes, and make sure you never repeat them.”

Canvas, “Before I begin, Cornelius Free had five children, one we have no information on. The four children we know of, and his wife, are living safely at the Ernest’s mansion.”

“That poor woman must have suffered at the hands of her husband,” Ruith whispers to Winston. The shorter clenches his fists, “Cornelius Free was a tyrant, but he’d never harm his family,” he mumbles, unaware of Barin side-eyeing him. Ruith, “I just hope the children don’t turn out like him. I heard they all bare the personality of their mother’s side of the family, the Ernests. Also, I wonder what happened to the child they couldn’t find.”

“I’m right here,” Winston mentally sighs, “and you’re right about my older siblings having my mother’s personality. I do too.”

“Now,” Canvas crosses his muscular arms, “everyone listen carefully.”