Chapter Warnings: Violence, injury

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"You seem pretty friendly with the prince... why's that?" Xander asked, leaning back on the log he was perched on.

"I met him and Lady Elise when I was... eight?" Palette recounted, watching the clouds lazily drifting across the sky, "We talked for a bit and became friends, then we reunited again at the knighting ceremony."

"Huh...," his friend mulled over the information, "You might wanna be careful about that."

"Careful of what?" the skeleton asked, staring back in confusion.

"Being friendly," Xander explained, glancing around secretively, "Royalty usually don't have friends; they have allies and subjects. People will start thinking you're trying to curry favor by being buddy-buddy with them."

Palette bristled at the suggestion, "I'd never try to use them like that!"

The blonde raised his hands in placation, "Never said you would; it was just a warning from one friend to another. You're a good guy; I don't want you getting caught up in any of that social politics stuff."

Palette opened his mouth to respond, but the sight of Goth walking away from a disgruntled Elise redirected his focus, "Did something happen?"

"Probably sibling bickering, you know?" Xander shrugged next to him.

"No, I don't. My parents never had another child after me, and my stepsister's still a baby," the skeleton answered honestly; his expression morphed into concern as he looked toward the carriage Goth had disappeared into, "Do you think they'll be okay? Maybe I should go over and talk to one of them..."

His friend sighed, "They'll be fine, Pal. This is what I was talking about; you can't be on top of them all the time, people will talk."

"Then let them talk," Palette shot back with a frown, "I won't stop caring about them or helping them just because someone might not like it. They-!"

Rapid movement from the corner of his vision put Palette on high alert. He dropped his gloves and reached for the sword at his hip as a shout rang out from one of his comrades. He was surprised to find Elise angrily staring down one of the attackers, nearly earning him a knife to the face if not for his quick reflexes; he never would have expected such a fierce expression from such a dainty-looking woman. 

Glancing over once more as he shoved back the assailant, he was relieved to see his friend was already at her side; that only left-

The clash of metal and the tearing of fabric made Palette's soul drop. Following the noise, a shaky breath left him as Goth held their attacker's blade within a folded fan; with a twist of their hands, the prince successfully spun the blade out of the opponent's grasp and followed up with a blunt construct to the face. 

The victory was short-lived, however, as another attacker rushed forward; Goth was forced to abandon the broken fan, raising a barrage of bones to block off their adversary instead. While Palette was impressed at their ingenuity, his friend wouldn't be able to keep up with the attacks forever. 

In his attempt to rush to their side, he was halted by his brown-garbed attacker and forced into a clash of weapons. Maneuvering his sword to redirect the dagger, he threw the figure off balance and slashed across their leg; it wasn't a killing blow, but it would at least be enough to take them out of the fight.

Instead of gaining ground as he hoped, another blocked his path shortly after. Staving the newcomer's weapon off with his sword, the knight watched in frustration as Goth gained a third attacker. Despite the odds, the prince was somehow managing to fend everyone off with a combination of bone barriers and well-placed projectile attacks, though Palette feared the defenses would only last so long against multiple adversaries.

Angrily wondering why no one else was helping Goth, a glance around the clearing proved that every other knight was actively engaged with at least one enemy; even Elise was providing support for the knights around her. Considering their group was outnumbered, the chances of someone coming to the prince's aid looked slim. 

Palette needed to find a way to get to his friend and fast.

The swing of a knife whizzing past Goth's cheek spurred him into a fury as Palette pushed into his opponent and yelled, "Get out of my way!"

Using the enemy's compromised balance, he rounded behind them and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of their head; their body crumpled to the ground like a lead weight. Palette's gaze left his fallen opponent just as one of Goth's enemies scooped a handful of dirt and threw it into their face; his friend stumbled away from another attempted strike while scrubbing at their sockets.

Time seemed to slow as Goth's heel caught on an exposed root.

The fall sent them reeling, slamming the prince into the ground. Palette's soul lept into his throat as Goth bit back a scream, drawing their left arm into their chest as they curled up into a ball; the sight created a haunting overlay in his memories, inciting an old panic within him that urged him to move faster as the enemy raised their weapon for a fatal strike.

"No!"

Elise's shout in the distance had Palette swinging his sword wide before he even had time to fully process his actions, desperate to create distance between his friend and the attackers. He slid into a defensive stance between the prince and the trio, holding his sword poised in front of him while glaring down the assailants as his skull buzzed with harried thoughts of what to do next. 

There was a tense moment of indecision among the group; Palette could only assume they were sizing him up... then a shout sent them sprinting off into the woods. The action confused him, but from the expressions of his equally bewildered allies, it looked as though the encounter had ended as quickly as it had begun. 

Relaxing his shoulders and sheathing his sword, Palette turned to where Goth was struggling to their knees with one hand; their other arm was cradled to their chest and they were visibly shaking as they stared in confusion at the spot where the attackers had disappeared into the brush. Kneeling down, he placed a hand on the prince's arm to help them up; the action produced a jolt as a single panicked eye light focused on him. 

Once recognition settled in their expression and their body relaxed, he softly inquired, "How's your wrist? That looked like a pretty nasty fall."

Goth slowly shook his skull, taking a breath as he replied, "I-I'm alright, the fall merely jostled it. Thank you fo-"

"Brother!"

Elise dropped down next to her brother without a care for the dust cloud she kicked up, tears lining her sockets as she wrapped her arms around Goth's neck and cried into his shoulder, "I was so worried! I saw you fall and... and... oh, thank goodness you are alright!"

"I'm relieved to see you unharmed as well," Goth readjusted to wrap his right arm around the younger sibling in a comforting hug, only for something else to grab his attention; following his line of sight, the broken remains of Elise's fan lay in a tattered pile in the dirt. Cringing at the sight, the prince apologized, "Elise... your fan, I-"

"It does not matter," Elise snapped, "Your life is far more important than a mere fan."

"True enough," Goth smiled faintly. Releasing a sigh, he redirected his attention to Palette, "Thank you for your assistance earlier."

"Yes, I fear what might have become of my brother if not for your timing," Elise rose to her feet and shook out the stray smatterings of dirt from the hem of her dress before offering him a curtsy, "You have my utmost gratitude."

"Oh no, not at all; I'm just happy I was able to help," Palette fumbled to wave off the praise; he didn't feel like he deserved it. Everything had ended well enough, but with how close he had come to failing Goth again, he needed to be better.

"Lady Elise," one of the other guards approached the group as Palette helped Goth to his feet, "Everyone has been accounted for and all of the enemies have retreated."

"Was anyone harmed?" Elise inquired.

"Only minor scrapes or bruises; no fatalities," the man reported, "our men are ready to carry on at your command."

While Elise looked relieved at the news, Goth seemed unsatisfied and asked further, "Were you able to find any clues regarding our attackers?"

The guard shook his head, glancing back toward their recuperating allies, "There were no identifying features from the group; we believe this was the work of novice bandits."

The prince hummed softly, though his expression looked perturbed; before Palette could ask about it, Elise asked, "Brother, will you be alright to continue?"

Goth gave a lighthearted chuckle, "I'll survive a party."

Watching his friend's reaction, their left arm was resting at their side, but Palette couldn't help but notice the discomforted rigidity in their posture. Suspecting the injury was bothering them more than they were letting on, he tried to interject, "I-"

"Besides, Her Highness will be quite cross if we fail to attend," his friend's smile waned a bit and Palette's mouth snapped shut. Goth always tried to stay on the queen's good side to avoid Elise being caught in the middle of their strained relationship, which meant the prince would try to appease her by going.

He didn't like it one bit and Elise looked to be of the same mind, but she ultimately sighed and directed the knight, "Very well, please ready the horses at once."

Palette watched the siblings climb into the carriage with a heavy soul as preparations were made to resume their journey. Retrieving his discarded gear and falling into position at the back of the procession, he gave the clearing one last look before turning away.

Throughout the march, the uneasy feeling continued to linger.

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Word Count: 1,682