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The Tenth Ring - The Demon Plane (A Prince's Past)

Started by Jelenis Tythe, November 22, 2015, 12:28:51 AM

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Jelenis Tythe

Sabre at boredly at the banquet table, his dark eyes staring down at the meal before him that to be honest he did not feel like eating. He hated these gatherings his father held, parading him out like a show animal for the lords and ladies and noble others to look upon.  His father was possessive of him, treating him like a treasure or a prize to be displayed so that others might marvel upon him or covet him. 

His mother had died birthing him, eighteen cycles past, he had never known what it might be like to have a mother, never known how she might have cared for him.  All he knew about her was that she was a succubus, the most beautiful creature in all of the Rings, won by his father and mated and that she had birthed her son, costing her own life in the process.  He had seen a portrait of her and it was evident that in looks he favoured her.  The same long moonlight silver hair, the raven dark eyes and slender build, he never really saw anything of his father in him.

He glanced up the table to where his Father's General sat with his son Abigor, he was older than Sabre, apparently he had been at his birthing he had been three cycles, so  a bit older at twenty one cycles, but he had been assigned as a fighting companion for the young Prince and they were due to start under Lord Zenethor, the Weapons Master on the morrow.  Abigor had been training with the sword longer than Sabre, so he had the edge.

Sabre picked up his goblet and drank a little of the wine slowly, in truth he did not want to learn the sword, he was infinitely better at magic and rune craft but his father had decided it was high time his son picked up a blade and learned to defend himself and his kingdom.  Sabre had reluctantly agreed, at least it would take him out of his father's gaze for a while and the cloying attention of the servants.

His father looked over stonily to him, the boy was beautiful indeed, a rare prize for the Tenth Ring, a handsome future king.  Though he seemed far too preoccupied with books and study which would be remedied tomorrow when he would be placed under Zenethor's charge.

"You are not eating boy!" His father said sharply.

"You will need your strength for the days to come...I will not have you wilting like a pretty little flower in the Ringfire...pick up your fork and EAT!"

Sabre was in no mood to argue, he picked up the golden fork and forced some food into his mouth and swallowed.

Sometimes he wished he was not the future king!

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre woke the next morning and lay staring up at the ornate ceiling in his bedroom, today his father had demanded that he would be placed under Zenethor's tutorship for the sword and other weaponry as well as the art of warfare.  He would be training with General Abrion's son, who already had been training in the sword and being a General's son was already excellent at most weapons he turned his hand to.

The Prince rose and shook his head, he knew it was going to be a day of being humiliated as well as punished likely for not being proficient.  Abigor was likely to make fun of him at being eighteen cycles and never having picked up a blade before.  The General's son was everything Sabre suppose a soldier should be, tall, muscled, good at everything he did...in fact he would have made a better future king than himself.  Not to mention he was devilishly handsome and all of the females in court swooned over him.

He got dressed in a pair of black leather breeches, stockings and boots, a cream shirt with a leather vest that covered it.  He tied back his silvery hair and stared into the mirror, handsome enough...yes...a soldier...no.  His breakfast was served in his room, but he felt too nervous to eat, but he forced down some bread and fruit as the servants would undoubtedly report if he did not eat to his father.  He sipped some juice and set the cup down and slowly made his way towards Lord Zenethor's training rooms within the castle.  The demon Weapons Master was already waiting with Abigor alongside and it seemed he already was displeased for some reason.

"I was expecting you ten turns of the minute glass ago...you may be a Prince but I expect you to be timely....I dislike tardiness...but as this is your first day with Abigor and I you are excused...if it happens again you will be bent over and your behind whipped until you do learn the importance of it...do I make myself clear Sabre?"

Sabre swallowed, but he met the Lord's glance square on...he would not bow his eyes or be afraid.

"Perfectly My Lord Zenethor!" He said sharply.

The last thing he wanted was to be whipped like a recalcitrant child in front of Abigor and having him spread it all over the court.

"Now.....to work....you are smaller than Abigor....slender.....you need to master a blade that will match you...work for you.....!" Zenethor barked.

"Abigor.....instruct Sabre on what blades might achieve this!"

Parkway

<<<<Abigor and Viola's training session...Earlier that morning before even the servants rose.>>>>>

Viola stood there... In all of her ''glory''. The first strike created a visible crack in the dummy's torso area, the second broke half of its head, the third split it in half, vertically. With a bokken, and an ugly one handed, almost dismissive grip. I had already figured it out, years and years ago when I first saw her ''practice''.

Five minutes was all it took me, pathetic. And yet, beautiful? Ugh, I hate myself for even saying this, but whilst her swordplay is simple and pathetic, it is the most impressive display of raw power I ever saw. Even in the very fact that it is ugly, dismissive, and lacking of any actual discipline, it adds to it... Adds to the complete and utter despair of the enemy when he sees that his opponent isn't even trying to defeat him, and yet oh so completely overpowers all efforts done to trump the monstrous mountain that stands in their way.

In a way... Her swordplay is everything a true demon's should be...

I stood from my seat and without a word I found a practice sword. Walking over I faced her and readied a high guard stance, she looked at me with a smile, no need for words, she needed none as she swung down with full might. It was an ugly strike, but powerful. Head on I had no hope of meeting it, so I side stepped and let the blow slide off my sword. This left her open, the whole side of her, I approached with a quick strike.

She saw what I was doing though, and threw her body against mine, the shock of her strength sent me a few paces back, but I held my ground, found my balance, advanced again. Strike. Parry. Dodge. She blocks. She counters. She presses the offense. Every time we fight, I notice more and more that I fight like a human, not a demon. I'm sure she notices, I'm sure she laughs, and yet is it so bad? Admittedly a reflection like this shouldn't be crossing my mind as we trade blows, yet I cannot help but do so at each movement of this dance we are indulging in.

Demons and Angels are extremely similar in regards to martial prowess. Since we do not possess the same limitations that a human body has, we choose to absorb, create, generate and embody power. Strength, magnitude in magic, all of those in great magnitude, yet lacking in finesse. Human swordplay is refined, to every minute detail. They work with their limitations, train themselves to penetrate armor, to feign and to cut at the right moments to avoid harm on themselves while inflicting the most harm on their enemies. They compensate their lack of strength, by developing their skills.

The same can be said for their spells, they are complex, their patterns are difficult to learn, scientific, they make the most of their limited magic and are able to create designs so complex that while demons and angels wield magic ten times more powerful than that, cannot hope to understand the human creations. A glancing blow, if I had my head in the fight it would have hit her neck, she smiled once more, counter to the head, easy to avoid. I sidestep to the left, again I attack, this time I hit.

She smiles, amused. She continues, if I had steel on my hands I would have wounded her, but not killed. The fight continues. But as my musings continue to pass through my head I realize why I always reach the same conclusion in the end. Mortals need to compensate with skills because they do not possess the strength angelic and demonic creatures have. We do not need to create techniques of swordplay to penetrate armor, because with our combined might and magic we simply cut through it. We do not need to develop complex patterns to make the most of the mana we are able to draw for a spell, because we have no limitations on just how much mana we are able to truly draw. It is useless, demons, angels, only strength matters, and they all know that, they all embrace that, they are just that.

And that is why they are all pathetic. Simply unenlightened, stupid, simple. I struck her again, dodged her next strike, struck again, but a moment's carelessness she was able to strike me once on the shoulder. It hurt, that strike would have killed me, a single strike from her compared to five strikes from myself. Four strikes, one more and I would have won. Where I lack power compared to her, I have developed more technique than any demon or angel I have ever known.

I am Abigor, son of the General. They are pathetic, and I'll make it my mission to remind them of this fact at every turn.


Parkway

<<<<<Later as Sabre has arrived for his first training.... >>>>>

Abigor noted the time he couldn't help but grin wickedly.  He should have warned the Prince.  But this would be much better.  Seeing the beautiful Prince get a talking down to for once...spoilt impertinent little boy.  Prince Sabre disgusted him.  Had everything and yet stole away to read and craft magic!  Yet, Abigor reflected on their growing years.  Sabre had become a likeness that was even more beautiful than his late mother. 

He could see Master Zenethor's beginning to fume.  This should be interesting indeed. 
The general's son was still learning the ways to master strategy, manipulation, and planning.  His skills with weapons was second to none in the ring.  He exceled for he loved this part of his studies.  Where he lacked was his use of magic.  He rather fight with is blade then his powers of the mystics.  This was something both the General and his Master Zenethor discussed about the young lord.  It would not due him well.  A general needed to be able to wield both.  When the King had requested that Zenethor beginning Prince Sabre's weapons training it was looked upon as a positive step for Abigor.  Expose him to the man he would one day be serving.  The young Prince with a mastery over magic and rune lore.  This was a bond that Zenethor would cultivate. 

The general's son stood next to his master.  He wore soft dark purple breeches with a lighter shade tunic.  His long raven hair held in place by a cloth in greys and purple.  He tied it over his head keeping his hair in the back.  His leather boots black and tied up to his knees.  He never lacked for companionship.  Which he took full advantage of.  He was not rogue though.  Everything he did was a very thought out decision. 

So there he stood when the Prince finally decided to join them.  Zenethor was not pleased just as Abigor had previously thought.  He smirked and raised his eyebrows as he nodded to his master.

"Prince Sabre, there are a few different types for someone of your build."  He let his eyes travel over the Prince.  It had been a very long time since he was this close.  His purple eyes darkened as he suddenly realized Sabre was no longer the young boy he had kept him in his mind as.  No indeed, the Prince was very much a man.  His breathing quickened but it was the only indication he gave of a change in him. 

Abigor could not believe the change.  "I think we will start you off with the wakizashi.  It is a good blade in the shorter version to begin understanding the manipulations you may take with it."  The young lord gestured to thee of the wakizashi's.  "You will note there are of different length.  Please take the one to the right it is the shortest.  This will help you learn how to discipline your style.  Once you master the length we progress you to the higher level."  With a wicked grin and arching his eyebrows Abigor leaned into the younger demon and whispered in his ear.  "I wonder have you by chance handled any length of blade to this point young Prince?"

He casually backed away taking the same type of blade he had requested the prince to take and walked to the center of the room.  "Ready Master Zenethor."

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre scowled as Abigor whispered in is ear, he picked up the sword that he had been told to and turned to join the General's son in the centre of the room.

"Unlike you Abigor...I don't spend all day fiddling with lengthy blades to satisfy my self....I study hard which is its own reward!" He snapped tersely.

It was true, he spent nearly all day in the Great Library much to the chagrin of his Father.  He studied Magic eagerly and already was better than most in the Tenth Ring.  His chest already bore Runes of power etched there by himself, as his skill in this area outstretched even their most learned.  He also studied books about weapons, He knew what the blade was he was holding, he was holding it like the first picture he had seen in the 'Warfare Demonica'.

His first impulse was to hit Abigor with Magic but he knew that Zenethor would hit the roof and probably beat him unconscious for using a spell against his most favoured pupil.  He was here to please his Father and to show he could be a worthy Prince of the Tenth Ring.

"Is it true?" He purred innocently to Abigor, his dark eyes showing some amusement.

"That you are...impotent... where magic is concerned?" He chose his words carefully, just to see how the General's son would react, would those purple eyes be so cocky now!

Jelenis Tythe

Zenethor watched as the Prince took up the sword and took a position opposite Abigor, the boy almost had the positioning right which he was very surprised at considering he had spent a good deal of his days in a library looking at books. He had obviously been reading the 'Warfare Demonica' as the pose was very familiar to the first stance.  He was just about to walk forward and make some minor corrections when he heard Sabre's comment to Abigor.

Instead of correcting the position, he bought his thin cane down resounding across the seat of Sabre's breeches, painfully hard, startling the Prince into dropping the sword with a pained gasp.

"Mind your manners Sabre...in this room Abigor is your elder and your better....do not forget that!" The older man snapped tersely.

"Insolence of that manner will earn you a punishment, next time it will be six strikes and I will let Abigor make them! Now pick up your weapon and take your stance again!"

His cheeks burning with humiliation Sabre lowered himself to pick up the sword...no-one had ever struck him before, not like that and it felt ten times worse being in front of Abigor who looked quite amused and smug about it happening too.  He took up the position again in front of the General's son, and Zenethor lightly tapped his left leg.

"This leg back a little further Sabre."

Then a tap to his right elbow.

"Raise a little higher."

Zenethor stood back and followed the Prince's lines with a practised eye, they were good, but could he hold them.

"Remain in that position Sabre...Abigor...Join me here momentarily...survey his lines....the tension in his body...what do you think?"

Parkway

Abigor was just about to retort...it was on his lips...When the blow hit the Prince and his weapon fell to the floor.  The demon knew better than to make any comment for Master Zenethor would take the cane to him.  But his eyes were dancing with mirth.  He even had the audacity to wink at him. 

He stepped back to allow the Prince to pick up his weapon.  He always got what he wanted from whomever it was, they didn't talk back to him, defy him ever.  Yet here this bookish Prince taunted him right back.  He realized he liked it.  Liked it a lot.  What he liked even more was the sound of the cane hitting the Prince and the way the young Prince had looked.  Yes....these training session were going to be a lot more enjoyable then he originally thought.

For the first time Abigor wished he had his father's ability to speak only to the Prince.  If he did so know Master Zenethor would intercept it and be furious with him.  Instead he kept his thoughts masked to those in the room and nodded to his master.  Abigor practically strolled over and smiled...check out the Princes stances!  Why what a lovely coincidence.  "Yes, Master Zenethor." 

He walked to his master's side and began his critique.  "He has been reading your Tome Master Zenethor, he has the basics of it, yet..."  He trailed off and walked closer to the handsome demon.  "He holds it so tightly, the weapon.  A lose grip M'Lord will actually give you better command.  Hold it like you would a..."  He hesitated a moment... "Well a flower.  Do not grip so tightly."  As he spoke Abigor came up behind the Prince and mimicked his stance.  His head by the Prince's ear.  His hand closed over Sabre's.  His other arm encircled the Prince's waist, he applied the slightest pressure to keep him in the position.  Shaking the Prince's wrist he repeated.  "Soft grip." 

Abigor marveled at the feel of Sabre in a somewhat embrace.  The fresh smell of his hair, intoxicating.  He felt his pulse increase.  As he demonstrated with Sabre he whispered so quietly so as to avoid Zenethor's wrath, "Do not believe all the lies you her sweet Prince...Impotent I assure you I am not...Play your cards right and I will show you...the magic I can weld."  He lifted his head up, his breath catching the silvery moonlit colored strands, as he continued to demonstrate. 

"You can maneuver your weapon with greater force this way.  Can you feel the difference the softer grip makes?"

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre tensed a little as he felt Abigor's arms close to him, one encircling his slender waist, another hand on his wrist.  It felt odd...confusing, no-one ever held him in that way and he just did not understand why his heart was beating so fast.  Then came that whisper so softly into his ear, a boast of prowess and Sabre came back to himself.

"I am sure I will be disappointed I doubt there is no magic you wield that will impress me Lord Abigor!" He hissed quietly back.

He did feel the sword felt a little better with the softer grip.

"You should stick to playing with your blade....you seem so good at it!" He said snipply.

Zenethor watched the pair through narrowed eyes, he was going to have problems here he could bank on it.  Cool and collected Abigor seemed to behaving unlike himself around the Prince, should he be surprised....he supposed not.....the Prince was part incubus and coming of age....which would mean he would be having seasons too.

Parkway

Abigor inhaled sharply.  He was not used to this treatment.  Yes, he is the Prince but soon one day he would be Sabre's right hand.  His protector.  He was there at his birth, the death of his mother, through all his seasons.  Quietly watching him...protecting him.  The no good spoiled brat should be grateful, not disrespectful!  Bastard!

His eyes narrowed and his temper flared.  "You...dare..."  He let go and came in front of him.  Not caring if Zenethor heard.   "You are right Prince.  I do play my sword well!  Make no mistake you will need this skill."  He drew his sword and came face to face...growling deeply.  Abigor turned and laid a strike against the blade of the Prince.  It was not an especially powerful strike but one to take notice of.  "I suggest you learn how to use..."  He looked down right the Prince's neither region.  "Your sword.  For right now it is pathetic!"  With each word he laid a strike.  But never touched the blade again. 

His style was flawless his purple eyes blazed.  Who did this mere bookworm think he was.  Everything given to him.  Never did he work for anything.  His father babied him.  He growled.  "Come at me Prince..."  He sneered. 

Jelenis Tythe

Each blow jarred Sabre's arm, obviously he had struck a raw nerve with his Lordship and he was glad. He was just a bully like most of the Military's offspring, he had not met one yet that wasn't.  He stood his ground though not wavering, his black eyes glowed defiantly at each strike at each growled word.

The etched runes on his chest glowed deep violet, he had more than most demons, all drawn by himself, his rune lore was flawless, strength, guile, agility, to name a few of them.  He took a light step back to put a little distance between them and then he did something out of character, he did attack Abigor, angrily, the power of his runes driving him.  It was by no means perfect, but it was hard, it was fast and it was filled with raw power.  His blade hit Abigor's with an almighty crash.

"I might not be as good as you at playing Soldier!" He hissed.

"But make no mistake I do not fear you.....you need to understand your opponents better for what good is all your skill if you underestimate who you fight!"

Zenethor was a little taken aback at the seemingly gentle Prince's ferocity....maybe there was hope here after all.  He would let this play out there were lessons to be learned on both sides. Though Sabre's insolence to Abigor could not go unpunished, he had been warned once today, Abigor was older than him and he needed to show him respect.  Once this was done he would punish the Prince himself,there would be no comeback from the boy's father to Abigor then.  It seemed the Prince was in need of a good old fashioned whipping to teach him to respect his elders and those that were superior to himself in more athletic pursuits.  When this little spat was over the cane would find his bare backside at least a dozen times.

Parkway

"You think I underestimated you?"  His voice jeered the graceful Prince.  "Maybe it is you who have underestimated me?"  With that he parried, and blocked.  "How do you know this isn't the response I was looking for?  Hmmmm?"  He arched his eyebrow turned and came back in letting his free hand caresses the side of the Princes face.  Abigor's steps are light and he moves back. 

"Do not think for a moment I underestimate you M'Lord.  We know all to well how...uh...potent you are."  He smirked.  Abigor could not help but tease him.  The passion in his black eyes when he had charged Abigor ignited something in him.  He wanted to see it again!

"Prince Sabre...."  His smile was churlish.  "Nor do I fear you.  It will be wise of you to remember this.  There is nothing I fear.  For if I did then I truly would only be a play solider...mmmm...."

He parried and struck the blade again.  This time his eyes flashing.  "And I do not need to rely on anything else...only a weak swords men needs to harness power from magic to fight.  IS this what you are Prince?  Should the tenth be worried when you succeed?  Will I only be the protector of a weakling?  His voice chided Sabre...challenged him...the Price struck a deep cord within the soon to be general. 

He had watched the rather reserved boy grow.  Part resented him for his lack of sport.  Always reading, writing, crafting a new spell.  Yet secretly he longed to be closer to him.  As the seasons passed Abigor had his duties to attend but he never was too far from the Prince.  Now finally together.  They would be forced to become acquainted.  Was Abigor ready for this? 

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre glared at Abigor, the anger in him a delicate flush on his face contrasting with his moonlight hair, his dark eyes almost feverish with it.

"A good fighter can combine and use both....I don't care if you think me weak....I know I am not!" He spat.

"I don't need you to protect me...I can look after myself!"

Zenethor watched as the two young men fought,  Abigor all calm control...Sabre was raw and undisciplined power...but it was there...there ability to become better...if he could just control his damn temper and his mouth.

He had seen enough, he grabbed Sabre by his collar and forced him to drop the blade.

"You will humble yourself before Abigor and beg his forgiveness for your behaviour!" The Weapons Master growled.

The Prince glared in undisguised anger at the General's son and twisted and fought like a wildcat in Zenethor's grip.

"Never....I will never do it.....I will never beg before him....NEVER!" He hissed.

Zenethor took a deep breath.

"Very well...then suffer the consequence of that!"

He dragged the young man to the weapons rack and almost threw him half across it, he ripped down his breeches in one fluid move and heftily applied the cane to the Prince's rear. Fourteen more times it hit Sabre, but he did not cry out not even once.  He would not give Abigor the satisfaction.

As Zenethor applied the sixteenth stroke he spoke in a angry growl.

"You will learn to curb your mouth and your temper and you will mind your manners in this room...am I understood!"

He dragged Sabre back and gestured for him to pull up his breeches, the boy stood there pale and silent, his eyes glittering with hatred.

"AM I UNDERSTOOD!" He roared to the Prince.

Sabre nodded, saying nothing.

Zenethor gestured to Abigor.

"Now humble yourself before Abigor and apologise for your insolence or you will get a further whipping." He said smoothly.

Sabre walked forward and he stared up at Abigor with undisguised anger.

"I apologise Lord Abigor!" he said through gritted teeth.

Parkway

Abigor backed up the minute Zenethor collared Sabre.  This was it!  He knew it was a matter of time before the Master would get incised.  He was surprised Zenethor didn't reprimand him as well.  But, by his taunts it helped expose a side of the Prince he didn't realize existed.

It delighted him that Sabre defied Zenethor.  Yes!  A proper whipping!  His own hide stung with many a memory of his own beatings, but he soon learned the way of Zenethor and now he only received them because he was arrogant as the master said and needed to be brought down a peg or two.  The lashing was intoxicating!  The Prince didn't howl once!  Not even a whimper!  Damnit...how sweet a coo would have been! 

He stood where he had the best view of his supple rear.  His skin smooth and unmarred was soon red and smarting.  There was no denying the general's son was quite taken with the insolent Prince.  He could feel his blood heating up with each strike of the cane.  He longed to be the one whipping him, touching him.  He stepped back when Master Zenethor commanded the Prince to pick up his breeches and apologize. 

Part of him yearned to see the Prince whipped further but it was not to be.  He apologized.  Not very convincingly but he did.

"It is accepted.  Prince Sabre..."  He hesitated...  "You were much more skilled and adept to the study of the sword.  You impressed me.  Not many do..."  He looked into the black eyes of the demon before him.  "I would be humbled if you would show me, teach me more of the ways of magic and rune lore."  He chuckled, "Be warned before you agree or disagree I am not as pleasent a student as you were today."

Jelenis Tythe

A pale pink flush came to the Prince's cheeks as Abigor praised him and then a look of confusion in his dark eyes at the request to be taught about magic.  He was suspicious at first, was Abigor just making fun of him?

He didn't know what to say at the moment, his anger and humiliation at being taunted and thoroughly whipped was still at the forefront, his smarting seat gave testament to that.

"I suppose I could do that....you could join me in the library when you are not training." He said softly.

He just felt like the General's son would use it as an opportunity to ridicule what he could do, spread lies about him and how he was weak.  Sabre turned to look to Zenethor, his eyes lowered slightly, he was a master here, one that had just punished him.

"May I be excused now please Master Zenethor?"

The Weapons Master regarded the Prince quite sternly and  moved forward to place his fingers beneath his chin and force his handsome face to look up.

"Firstly you never lower your head.....you are a Prince....secondly you will arrive on time tomorrow of you will find my cane to be your close friend again....and yes you may be excused."

Sabre bowed to him and then tilted his head to Abigor and strode stiffly from the room.  Zenethor looked to his most favoured pupil with a faint smile.

"I think we can work with him hmmm Abigor?" He said quietly.

"He is raw, angry, out to prove he is as good as anyone else.....he has the makings of a King."

Parkway

Abigor watched as Sabre left.  He saw the distrust in his eyes and yet he opened his door.  The lord would take that opportunity to get to know this Prince whom he witnessed everyday but obviously knew nothing of him.

"Yes Master Zenethor.  It is a most welcomed surprise.  I was fearing he would be weak or worse than weak...timid!"  His smile turned toward the Master.  "I can see we will have our hands full too.  He is most distrustful!"  There was no mistaking the mirth in his eyes and voice.

He excused himself from his master to see to the gallery and its putting back in order.  One thing he detested was an unorganized work space.  Abigor began to tend to the two weapons.  He cleaned, sharpened them, and cleaned them again.  Only when he was satisfied he began to oil them.  As he worked his mind kept going over in his mind the scene.  Somewhere along the way Prince Sabre grew up.  How Abigor missed it he did not know.  True when they were much younger they had been kept together but they were so different that any chance Abigor had to escape he did.  All too soon he had to begin training.  This was something the young lord could not wait for this so when finally granted permission he literally threw himself into it.

Morning, noon, and night he could be seen either in the gallery or the courtyard training.  As he grew so did the attention of both male and female.  Though not beautiful in Sabre's sense...no demon compared there...he posed a handsome, powerful allure.  Which he took full advantage of.  He was not one to bother with the thoughts of furthering his bloodline, to the upsetment of his parents.  He felt he had many years before this was needed to be done for now he took and gave pleasure where and when he wanted. 

He took out the wooden bokken and began to practice some more.  He did need to learn magic better and his rune lore was solely lacking.  His mind kept bringing to mind the black eyes, the graceful stance of the Prince.  His full lips...  Abigor shook his head and rumbled.  With each thought he struck the dummy targets harder.  He kept this up for a few hours until complete physical exhaustion overtook him.  The large demon growled and for once did not clean up his mess as he stormed from the gallery.

His path was furious as he headed for the library and banged the door open.  His eyes traveled the room until it rested on his target.  "I am ready Prince Sabre.  In here you will be Master, but make no mistake...you will not be striking me with any cane!" 

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre had been curled in an armchair by the fire with a book and a cup of hot spiced wine, he needed to unwind after the training.  He had gone back to his room and bathed, wincing in pain as the hot water had lapped over the welts.  He had changed into a long silken shift, the colour of amethyst, it was belted at the waist with a jewelled cord.  It was easier on his sore body.

He looked up in surprise as he saw Abigor, sweated from his training, eyes full of fury as he gazed upon him.  He was the last person he had thought to see here tonight, obviously Abigor could not wait to humiliate him in some way so he could boast it to his lovers and friends.

He uncurled himself from his comfortable position and rose, sitting thus had suddenly made him feel vulnerable...and very much aware of how the silk moved over him and that it made him look too much like his mother, the violet contrasting with his silvery white hair.

"What is it you want to learn Lord Abigor?" He asked a little uncertain where to start with this ball of pent up fury.

"I take it you have some understanding...perhaps if you can share with me what you do know...it will help me work out what I can teach you."  His black eyes eased slightly and regarded the General's son with a little amusement.

"Would you like a servant to fetch you something to eat and drink?" He asked almost courteously.

"And I don't cane people...I will leave such things to Lord Zenethor...my punishments are a lot more subtle." He mused....letting Abigor make of that what he would.

Parkway

Abigor's breathing was still elevated.  The combination of his own thoughts while practicing and the sight of the Prince had him ready to self combust.  He certainly did not expect to see him looking this desirable, this soft, this beautiful.  Where's he must have looked like a savage beast!  Sweating, hair still in the cloth securing it back, his shirt sticking to him, huffing like an animal, eyes darkened.

"What?  I know next to nothing on Rune Lore."  He didn't even look ashamed it was just a statement.  "What I know of magic...I know how to harness the energy, to strike with its power but not sustain it."  Abigor's eyes followed every move the Prince made.  The amethyst robe accentuated his looks.  For a split second Abigor wondered how his rear was.  He even wondered how red and fiery it might appear.  A low rumble started in his stomach.

He was thinking in a bit of an abstract way when he said, "Yes, please I have not had anything..."  He hesitated and thought for a moment only to shrug nonchalantly.  "I cannot remember last when I've had, but I like blackberries.  Please if you would arrange it.  Perhaps I should change?"  He only just realized he was not really presentable.  Yet he shrugged again, what did it matter it was only magic right....

"What are you drinking?  May I have some?"  Abigor was oddly being courteous.  He felt ill at ease and for the first time unsure of his prowess.  This half incubus was wrecking with his senses.

His last thoughts were of his comments about his punishments were a lot more subtle...what in all the underworld did this mean?

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre nodded.

"Blackberries...an odd choice...I would have had you pegged as a meat lover." The young Prince said softly.

He did not bother to summon a servant, he turned to the table by the fire and gave a delicate twist of his hand.  A bowl appeared, ornately worked in gold and within it sat large plump juicy blackberries, to its side in matching gold was another bowl filled with thick fresh cream.

Another delicate action bought about a matching goblet filled with the same warm spiced wine.

"Are you able to manipulate magic to bring you what you desire?" Sabre asked gesturing to the food and drink so that Abigor might help himself.

The General's son had been bluntly honest stating he knew nothing of Rune Lore, Sabre was quite surprised at that he thought that all  demons, high born and low born, had a rudimentary knowledge of it.

"Not being able to sustain energy comes because you are trying to use it like a blunt tool, forcing it to you....rather than treating it like a living thing...you told me to hold the sword softly....I am telling you to caress magic when you call on it."  He said as he reached for his goblet and took a sip, licking a drop of wine beaded on his lip after taking it.

"I will be blunt with you Lord Abigor....you are a raging bull....me....not so much which is why I have a better hold  over myself in situations that require..well...elegance...deep control...you are a fine swordsman...you have control in that area....but you need to temper yourself if you are to have control in both skills."

He turned away, bending over to reach a book by the chair, the silk rippling over his form, he straightened and handed it to Abigor.  It was almost as if he knew he might be coming, it was a book on Rune Lore.

"You need to read this....it is a beginners book in Rune Lore....aimed at children really...when you are done and have a base understanding about what it is you want to do....then I might be able to assist you."  He turned, picked up the book he had been reading and tucked it under his arm and headed towards the door.

"Please do enjoy the Blackberries...they will be exquisite with the cream!" He almost purred as he left the room closing the door gently behind him.

Jelenis Tythe

Sabre walked back to his room with a certain amount of satisfaction, a small smile playing about his lips. He may have to cow-tow to Abigor in the Sword Gallery but in the library he was his own man. He felt an odd shiver course through him when he recalled the angry sweated General's son standing in the library doorway looking at him hungrily.

He shook his head....no....he was not going to be one of Abigor's conquests....and he had heard there had been a few.  Quite a few women in his father's court had walked shamefully from his quarters seen by many who whispered behind their hands.  There had also been talk of one or two males too.

He reached his room and opened the door to find his father waiting within, he was a tall foreboding demon, cold, and demanding.

"Where have you been dressed in that manner?" His father snapped.

"I was in the library Father....only for a short while....just to get a book." He replied, quietly shutting the door.

The King looked him up and down.

"Zenethor tells me he had caused to give you a good honest whipping....you will be more diligent at your swordplay and mind what he tells you!" He hissed softly.

"Or next time I will be the one to give you a beating boy.....but I will be careful not to mar your beautiful face!"  He reached out and his claw lightly stroked down Sabre's cheek.

The prince watched his father leave and only when the door was closed and he heard the heavy footfalls grow distant he muttered under his breath.

"I hate you!"

He went to his bed and sat upon the edge, trying to still his heart which was racing from his father's threat.  His throat felt tight, and his eyes burned but he would not cry, that would be weak and he had decided a long time back he would not be weak.  He had no true friends, his father did not allow that!  He was not allowed to go out of the castle unless heavily escorted....his father wouldn't allow that either!  In fact there were nothing he could do that was not decreed by his father.

Parkway

Abigor was in awe of this magnificent sight.  The berries...the cream...he actually chuckled when the Prince mention he seemed more suited as a meat lover.  He arched his eyebrow in amusement.

He could not wield his magic to garner his needs or wants.  So this was still a mystery to him.  And Sabre was right he wielded his use, if you could call it that, like a weapon.   Did he appear like that?  A raging bull?

As Sabre spoke he looked at the dish, the cream, and then the wine.

"I trust you know what you mean.  I'll read it."  He took the book and met the Prince's eyes. 

One thing he would do is read the children's book, he was nothing if not through.  he watched as the silk moved fluidly against the Prince's body.  He felt the tingle in his groin.  He did not expect this.  No he wanted what his minds eye had already concocted.  A weasely, minisucle, weakling.  Not this subtle, powerful, and alluring Prince.  Sabre was beautiful.

He moved with grace.  He spoke eloquently.  His silver hair and black eyes contrasted nicely with his full red lips.  Ahhhh his lips.  How many have kissed those perfect lips?  Has he explored all there was with his body?  Would his father allow him too?

"I will read it Prince.  Then I will come find you."  He smirked, "As for meat...you are not too far off but I do enjoy the juices of a fresh berry.  So succulent...when ripe..."  His eyes glowed as it traveled over Sabre's graceful form.

Abigor looked over the book and dined on the fruit.  Sabre was right, delicious.  He mused over what transpired.  He had the book ready, was he expecting me?  He leafed through the pages as the door opened.   His father...the general.

"Abigor, the gallery is a mess!  What is the meaning of this?"  His father's red eyes gleamed bright. 

Standing and saluting him respectfully Abigor nodded.  "I will clean it before the night has weaned father." 

The demon was as tall as his son and while he was pleased with his sons skill with the blade he worried over his severe discipline.  The boy grew into a man yet still took what he wanted.  Had no care that domestic responsibilities had to be met.  This worried him...worried the demons mother...yet to press his son would only met with resistance.

"See to it son."  The demon left the room wanting to say more but knowing to pick his battles with the headstrong youngling. 

Abigor rolled his eyes.  He had left in a hurry but could not help it.  He was consumed with his desire to see and speak with this Prince whom changed right before his eyes. 

He finished the sweet fruit and smiled.  There was something sweeter he wanted to taste.  He left the room to go clean the gallery and change.  He had pent up rage and energy.  He needed to find an outlet.

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