 I don’t get paid enough to watch children... Tristan ground his teeth as the now-familiar sensation of irritation twisted in his gut. He threw a smile in Alistair’s direction which ended up looking more like a sneer.
“Apparently you do,” he shot back, folding his arms across his chest, “or else you wouldn’t be here, would you?” Leaning against the wall, the metal of his armour scratching against the stone, he returned Alistair’s look stare for stare. Tristan set his jaw stubbornly and his green eyes hardened a little looking more like his father’s than they ever had before.
“I’m not quite sure what to make of the fact that you seem to be making a bigger deal out of who I am than I do...” The prince grinned, the expression more in-character than those that had preceded it. He tilted his head a little to one side, “miss me?”
Green eyes narrowed as Alistair continued, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
“If we’re going to be playing this particular game,” the prince said with a little laugh, pushing himself upright again, and taking a step forwards, “then I think you should be referring to my ‘Dad’ as ‘His Grace,’ don’t you?” Tristan liked Alistair, he had since the first moment he’d met him and they’d jumped off a roof together. It would have been easier if they’d have sent someone else, anyone else. Last time he had seen the older boy they had been in the King’s throne room and Alistair had been under arrest. He was in the stables because Tristan had put him there. He could have tried to explain, he supposed; he could have told his friend why he objected so strongly, and Alistair might have understood. I’m being suffocated he wanted to say, I’m being suffocated and I want to prove to myself I can do things on my own again. He had been stuck in his room with people doing everything for him, bringing him food, brushing his hair, changing his clothes, his bandages. He just wanted to feel like Tristan again.
“Do you know that deal doesn’t really work. If you didn’t come with me I could do what I wanted anyway.” He shrugged before leaning against the door to Hal’s stall, “and it also makes the assumption that if you did come with me and we didn’t make this deal that you could stop me from doing what I wanted to do.” Tristan traced his finger along the metal strip which ran across the top of the door. It was dusty, and he rubbed the dirt between his finger and thumb as he looked back at his friend. “It’s a pain in the arse that the only person who outranks me in this place is the King, isn’t it?” Tristan wasn’t going to win the argument in the stable yard, he could tell from the look on Alistair’s face. The older boy had too much back up, the stable master and Tristan’s father, but once they were away from the castle things might be different. The prince seemed to accept defeat and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing for Alistair to carry on.
He didn’t follow his friend to the tack room. He went to find the stable master instead and asked him, in his most courteous voice, that his tack be kept in its usual place in future. Satisfied with the man’s answer (he said that he didn’t know why it had been relocated in the first place) Tristan made his way back to Hal’s stall just in time for Alistair’s return. The older boy dumped the tack and disappeared, leaving Tristan alone at last. With a certain amount of relief, the prince slid open the bolt on the door and approached Hal. The horse pushed his muzzle into his master’s hand and Tristan gently stroked the creature’s nose. He’d missed the horses; they couldn’t sleep with you in a sickroom like dogs.
When Tristan lifted the saddle the weight of it sent a sharp pain up his injured arm and he inhaled sharply between his teeth. The hissing sound made Hal’s ears twitch but he remained patiently still.
“Sorry boy,” the prince muttered as he got the saddle into position and fastened the girth, “you’re going to have to bear with me today. Pushing open the door, Tristan led Hal out of the stable block out into the yard, and mounted from the floor. He tightened his girth with a practiced hand then gathered up his reins and urged Hal in a quick walk to the edge of the yard where the path into the forest began. He grinned as Alistair went past him and called out to the empty stall.
“Ready!” he laughed, shouting from his place a good few feet behind the older boy as he waved his hand above his head. Laughing again, he urged Hal into a canter along the trail, not looking back to see if Alistair was following.
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