Disclaimer--don't know them, don't know their sexuality, this is fiction. Fake. Feedback please. *'s indicate italics.
Chapter 1
Sitting cross-legged, the mage stared thoughtfully at the image hovering several inches above the sand patterns on the floor in front of him. Within, two blond boys scampered through a grassy, sparsely wooded area. At seven and nine years old, both had the fresh bloom of innocence on their faces, which spoke of limitless possibilities, and that one's biggest worry was how to get out of eating unwanted vegetables. The younger one had large blue eyes, and his hair screamed up from his head in a riot of corkscrews. Snub-nosed, his face was open and sunny, frequently flashing a quick grin. The other's face was more solemn and thoughtful, with seemingly even bigger green eyes (if that was possible), a thin nose, and hair that stood up in haphazard spikes.
Hmmm, not bad, the mage thought. This time we may even have a chance.
"Is that the latest possibility?" a quiet voice interrupted his musings.
"Yes," the mage said. His voice, a thin, high tenor, belied his features, which were dark and foreboding as he studied the scene intently. Thin-lipped and thick-browed, his face seemed to have been carved out of rock. "The one with the curls."
"Another pretty one. Gods, do they always have to be so pretty? Why can't they look more...plain? More--"
"More like you, Joseph?" the mage smirked. A handsome, boyish expression, it strangely did not look out of place on him, and did much to dispel the fearsomeness of his visage.
The other man decided to ignore this remark, and tried not to show how much such a careless aside could hurt him. He cleared his throat. "Let's hope this one survives to manhood."
"Yes," the mage said, watching as the curly-haired one tripped over a rock and sprawled out flat. "They all tend to start out rather...clumsy, don't they?" he continued as the boy leaped up, brushed himself off, took off again, and promptly ran into a low-hanging tree branch, knocking him backward. His friend merely stopped and waited, obviously used to this kind of behavior. "I don't think we could survive another premature death. They should at least be allowed to begin the quest before meeting their unpleasant demise. Anyway, I feel good about this one."
"You always do," his companion reminded him.
"Anyone who can take that kind of abuse at such a young age must be strong," the mage continued as if the other man had not spoken. "We will need such strength, as time is running out and the Nameless One grows ever stronger..." As the mage continued, Joseph lowered his eyes and listened silently, as befit his station while a superior was speaking, though he had heard this speech countless times before.
With each repetition, each failure of the potential savior, the speech grew less believable, less meaningful. It became a mockery of its original intent, which was to bring hope. Now, it was just a reminder of hopes destroyed time and again, leaving despair in its wake.
Standing up, the mage sighed and swept his foot out in front of him, scattering the runes on the floor. "If this one does not survive, I fear that there will not be enough time for another one to appear before the demon again makes a bid for this world." Joseph looked up, startled. This was new. Other times, the mage had always ended his oration with a ringing declaration about hope for the future and other such nonsense.
"Master?" The mage looked up, his eyebrows raised, "Why our world? What is the point to all this?"
The mage grinned, completely banishing any trace of fearsomeness, and the servant's stomach did its usual somersault. "Well, Joseph, if we knew that, then life wouldn't be an adventure, would it?" Clapping the other man on the back, the mage shouldered past him, toward the stairs leading down out of the tower, to the rest of the castle below.
"Are you okay, Justin?" the green-eyed boy asked as he bent over his friend, eyes wide. Though his tone was solicitous, the question was more of a formality than anything. Justin was always okay. Though the boy could run faster and throw a ball farther than anyone else in the town, probably in the whole province, there was no getting around the fact that he was a klutz. A hard-headed, extremely lucky klutz who lived to greet each successive birthday seemingly only due to the favor of the gods.
"Sure, Lance." Justin grinned up at him. "I just didn't see that tree branch."
"Just, it's as big as a house! You just need to watch where you're going." Lance admonished.
"Aw, you sound like my mom." Justin complained as he stood up. "Next you'll be telling me that I need to go to bed right after sundown." Comparison to an adult was usually enough to make Lance stop in his I'm-older-and-much-smarter-than-you-so-be-quiet-and-listen vein, but this was not to be Justin's lucky day, as Lance refused to be deterred from this lecture.
"How do you expect to be allowed to train as a knight if you're so clumsy?" Lance continued. "They're not gonna let you in if you keep tripping over everything in sight. And you? With a weapon? Ha! The king wouldn't feel safe even if he had the whole rest of the army around him. And you also--,"
"Okay, okay, Lancey." Calling him Lancey always worked.
"Only my mom calls me that, and you know it." Lance's eyes narrowed, making him look uncannily like an agitated feline.
"But it's such a cute name, Lancey. Besides, when I go to be a knight, it won't matter, 'cause I'll be bigger, and have muscles and stuff. See, I'm already gettin' some--look." Justin sat up and offered his scrawny arm to Lance's view. He moved his forearm back and forth in a parody of flexing, and Lance rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever, Just. You have chicken arms to go with your chicken legs."
"Eh, you're just mad 'cause I called ya Lancey."
"That's it. You're no fun. I'm going home." Turning on his heel, Lance started to stomp away.
"Wait, Lance--I was just kidding. Don't go home yet. Please?" Justin let his face crumple and his lower lip tremble. Even at a young age, he knew the power of his pout. Lance sighed and gave in, as he had countless times before.
"Oh, okay."
"You're not mad at me?"
"Well, you have to apologize for using that name."
"Okay, I'm sorry for calling you Lancey and I'll never do it again!" Justin chirped, breaking into his usual smile. Lance sighed again. Justin was very free with his promises, but staying true to them--even with the best of intentions--was quite another matter.
"Okay, so what do you want to do now?"
Justin shrugged. "I dunno." Then his face lit up. "I know!! Race ya to that tree over there!! Readysetgo!" With that he took off, leaving Lance in the dust. Quite pleased with his ruse, he looked back over his shoulder to see where Lance was and promptly tripped over--nothing.
Grinning, Lance sailed by. "Told you you need to watch where you're going," he called.
"Yeah, yeah, Lancey." Justin muttered under his breath.
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