DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.

Sorry for my absence, everyone! I'm back. :)

What Happened to the Green Fairies?

By Danimpa

Chapter 23

Earldom of Cornwall, England
February, 1398

I was at the fifty feet mark, biting my down on my own lip in concentration and feeling as nervous and excited as if I'd been at the six hundred feet mark at a prestigious tournament.

I willed my hands to stop shaking in the cold, my feet shuffling around lightly in the thin layer of snow while I pulled the string taut, my arm protesting slightly at the exertion and movements it was no longer used to. I aimed, closing one eye, and focused my whole being of the target plate. Then I raised the bow and let go of the arrow, watching as it zoomed through the air before finally digging into the edge of the plate.

I sighed slightly; that was nowhere near good enough.

"Ryan, it's okay, that was a nice shot. Don't expect too much from yourself yet," said Matt, who was standing behind me along with Brendon, both watching my embarrassing miss.

I could've made that shot when I was ten!

I knew very well that I was being irrational and that the sudden tears in my eyes were unreasonable, but it was just that I was past the point of just being grateful to be alive. I wanted my old abilities back too.

A pair of hands settled on my hips and a cheek was briefly leaned against my own. "Ry, it's alright. Give it another go."

I sighed again but nodded, turning my head a bit to press a kiss against his cheek.

It didn't matter that we were out in the open; only Matt was around, and Matt had nothing against it.

In fact, over the past months, his previous liking of Brendon had luckily returned, and I think I could almost say that my brother actually approved of us.

Brendon released me and took a few steps back to give me more room again and I reached into the quiver that I'd strapped on, picked up a new arrow and placed it back on the bow, repeating the process of aiming, raising and letting go.

This one didn't even hit the wooden plate and I was about ready to cry in frustration, but Brendon was there again, kissing my temple and rubbing my back.

"Erarum humanum est," he muttered, calling a slight smile out on my face.

How could he not when he was showing off his Latin?

"Give it one more try, Ryan. Just one more."

I sighed again.

He smirked slightly. "For me?"

What I didn't do for that boy...

I pulled out another arrow and he made to leave. I sent him a quick look. "Stay," I quickly requested.

He nodded, moving his head away from my own but kept his hand on my waist.

I, one final time, placed the arrow on the bow and pulled the string back, willing it to work this time, forcing the tired tremble out of my arms as I concentrated on hitting that wretched target. Then I raised the bow again and let go.

It hit!

I dropped the bow and threw my arms around Brendon's neck, hugging him tightly and feeling slightly silly all the while.

Getting that worked up over hitting bull's eye from a distance of fifty feet.

But with these last few months of constant failures and bad bodily functions, every last tiny show of success was an enormous victory.

Luckily Brendon always seemed to understand this and he hugged me back, a wide smile on his face as he leaned in to peck my lips. "You did good," he whispered afterwards before releasing me.

I turned to face Matt, still with that silly grin on my face.

He nodded his confirmation, looking happy and sad all at once.

And I knew it must've been hard on him; to see me back at the level I'd been at nine years earlier, to have had to see me so weak when his whole life had always focused on protecting me.

Finally he reached out a hand and ruffled my hair, something he hadn't done since before France, and I felt my grin going even wider at how things were finally starting to return to normal.

Even if I still was too thin. ****** A week later I managed a clear shot from the one hundred feet mark.

And by then, Brendon was the one reading out loud half of the time we spent buried in books.

Talk about a quick learner. Yeah, of course his reading was slow and sometimes slightly jumbled, but he managed it.

I had yet to attend another family supper, but after Mother had personally insisted I no longer had a choice.

Which, by evening, left me in my old seat by one end of the large table, wanting nothing more than to be away, to simply eat in my own chambers.

I wasn't eating anyway; I simply couldn't work up any sort of an appetite in the current company.

Yes, sure, Matt and Eleanor were there and Brendon was serving, but the sheer presence of my parents put me at unease.

I could feel Brendon's eyes burning into me as I played with the food on my plate, still not having eaten at all.

A meal hadn't seemed like such a large challenge in weeks, but I was certain that I'd be physically ill if I even let it touch my lips.

"Brother," Matt muttered from my right, sending me a pleading look.

I looked down, unable to meet his gaze as the awkward silence swept through the room.

They were disappointed with me; I was disappointed with me.

Mother finally broke the loaded silence. "George, dear, you should eat up. You must be hungry; Eleanor tells me you've been training most all day."

I felt bitterness build up in me. I hated how they pretended to care, or, if they cared, did it only for my destiny as a breeding bull.

"Do as your mother says, boy," Father demanded, his voice somehow seeming even harsher than normal.

I distinctly remembered a time when he'd call me 'son', but ever since that day years ago when Mother had found me out it had become 'boy'. He was more likely to utter the much more affectionate 'son' directed to Matt than to me, because my brother was what he wished I could be and whom I'd never had been able to live up to.

Sometimes I wondered how many sleepless nights he spent wishing and praying that I were my brother.

"You need to get back in shape for your sister's wedding," he added.

Once again it was all about appearance, about looking like there was no problem at all.

By then even the smell of the food made me feel sick and I felt my stomach starting to stir as I kept looking down. I wasn't ready to meet their gazes; I wasn't strong enough to fight them again, not yet.

"George, it's already bad enough that Eleanor's soon-to-be family knows about your abnormality. Don't make her look worse by showing up as a weakling," my mother ordered.

That did the trick and I was out of my chair the next moment, on my knees on the floor as I retched up everything I'd forced into myself for at least one full day.

"I'll take him back to his chambers, milord," Brendon quickly informed and I felt his arms go around me to pick me up.

"I'll... help," Matt added, apparently following behind us.

I dared one short look at my parents as we exited.

Father was furious.

Mother was disgusted.

I suddenly realised what a bad idea it had been to let them see Brendon touching me in the slightest way.

Matt had been wise to offer his company, made it look slightly less conspicuous although everybody already knew exactly what went on between my valet and myself.

"You cannot let them get to you like that, little brother," Matt stated sadly once we were out of hearing range.

I think I had tears rolling down my face again and my stomach and throat hurt and I knew he was right but how could I not?

They were my parents after all, no matter how much we all wished it were different.

"All they ever do is wish I were you," I stated softly. "I wish to God we could just switch."

Brendon silently caressed my shoulder with his thumb while the rest of his hand along with the other one kept holding me close to him, still walking, still carrying me.

Matt sighed. "Ryan, don't even think about that. It'll only make it worse," he muttered. "We're tied to the places our births put us in."

"I know," I whispered back, my voice cracking. "But I was doing so well. And all they do is make me wish I never made it at all."

I felt Brendon tense up against me, his steps faltering, and I could feel his eyes on me, staying there until I finally looked up and met them.

They were teary, and even thinking about having made him cry again made me feel that much worse. "Please don't ever say something like that again," he choked out.

"Vivamus atque amemus
Rumoresque senum severiorum
Omnes unius aestimemus assis.

That nearly cheered me up.

He'd memorized that for me, could quote my favourite poet in the original language, once again for me.

And all I had done in return was to go right back into my depression.

He didn't deserve that.

"Let us live and let us love," I muttered, repeating his words. "And let us consider the rumours of grouchy old men worth a single penny." I sighed. "I'm sorry."

He relaxed and started walking again, Matt once again by our side.

"I just wish..." I started, slowly wondering what I was trying to say. "I just wish that we were at some other place where births didn't matter and where people would accept us for who we are and where we could all be free to be what we wanted and do what we loved."

Brendon sighed behind me. "That place doesn't exist. We have to survive here."


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