Despite the circumstances of his predicament, Lynd admitted the grounds were gorgeous. They stretched beyond his sight; the borders obscured by distance and fading into blurs as his eyes watered from trying to take it all in. The expanse of the royals’ lands was breathtaking.
In another life it would have been nice, he supposed, to capture the view on a canvas. Without all the jostling and haphazard bumping from his transportation.
Said transport, a low-class servant judging from her drab gray dress, cupped him closer to her body as she traversed over a vast canyon which to her probably counted as a stream. Lynd’s ears popped from the change in elevation, and he winced.
Finally, after being thrown around in the cage that was her palm, the servant came to a stop. There was an expectant air, followed by a hum; it culminated in an offended huff.
“Sir, your guest has arrived.”
Lynd frowned and tried to force the servants fingers open so he could see his host. Her grip, dainty as her fingers seemed, was unbreakable.
A voice in a soft tenor chuckled. “You can let him down, Marisol.”
Lynd’s breath burst from his lungs as he felt the servant press him closer to her dress and pivot, as if to shield him from the speaker.
“I won’t harm our little guest, my dear.” The words were soft, but the tone was warning. “I won’t repeat myself a second time. Put. Him. Down.”
What followed was more akin to thunder than any human sound Lynd had ever made. It ran through Marisol’s body like the promise of a hurricane on the horizon, vivid.
Like a summer flower at the precipice of bloom, Marisol moved Lynd away from the press of her mud-stained dress and unfurled her fingers. Lynd squinted at the sudden onset of light and noise, but was grateful for the reprieve. When his vision cleared, he saw something even more astonishing than the vast mountain ranges and valleys that served as the garden they now stood in.
A giant three, no, four times as large as Marisol. With hair like captured midnight, and the sharply cut cheeks of his bloodline, he rose from his laying and propped himself up on both hands.
Lynd swore, realizing who it was.
Talos’ smile was beatific as he locked stares with Lynd’s own. The royal court’s very own bastard prince was a standard human in appearance. He had the same general shape - a head, a body, and all the associated limbs - but whether by sheer size or simple aesthetics Talos’ form, propped up on arms thicker than the largest of tree trunks back home, demanded attention.
“Hello there, Prince Lynd,” Talos purred. His lips pulled back in coquettish amusement. “I suppose this arrangement was sprung on you as well?”
Lynd floundered, trying to find the right words amidst the rising sea of inspiration that threatened to overcome him. After a few seconds, where it seemed the world hung in the balance he recovered and said, “Not so much sprung on me as I was thrown into it. By catapult.”
Talos threw his head back and laughed. It was enough to deafen a man, and Lynd was glad he’d thought to grab some wax from his stores and stuff it into his ears before his stepfather ordered him to leave posthaste.
“Come, join me!” Talos patted his bare chest, burned bronze with the blessings of a life spent outside. “There’s plenty of me to spare!”
That prompted the woman holding Lynd to jerk. “Sir, I must insist-”
“Marisol, you’re still here?” Talos interrupted, his smile as white and blinding as the sun. “Do you wish to keep me company during an official function again?”
For all her attempts at composure, Lynd was in a prime position to see her reaction. He turned and saw Marisol glance down the length of Talos’ body and stare at the loincloth covering the mass of something immense. Luminous pink crawled up from her neckline as she visibly gulped.
“Forgive me, Milord,” Marisol muttered, bowing her head. In a low breath, she added, “Brute.”
With clear reluctance, Marisol held Lynd out and carefully placed him on the edge of Talos’ abdomen. She fussed over him for a second before Talos cleared his throat, eliciting a girlish eep from the servant. He dismissed her with a gruff grunt and a swiping gesture that, back in Lynd’s homeland, could have toppled a good section of a forest.
“She’s protective of your kind, our Mari,” Talos said as he and Lynd stared after the woman, disappearing over the bridged ravine. His attention shifted back to Lynd and he was suddenly aware of just how alive the surface he was standing on was. “And around me especially, though I can’t say it’s not without good reason.”
Lynd tried to pin down why his heart was lurching in his chest. Somewhere in the valley of petrifying terror and dazzling enchantment.
He forced himself to swallow and reply, even as he started walking along the rippling surface of Talos’ midriff. “Her concern is why this is happening. Who’d have thought our kingdoms would ever entertain peace? Though, having the Butcher of the Plains be the emissary...”
“Ludicrous, no?” Talos relinquished his sitting position and laid back down. Lynd threw himself against the man’s skin in an effort to not fall. It was like the earth was alive and, even worse, feeling playful. “Almost as insane as sending the youngest of the Blessed Seven to meet said Butcher for the opening peace talks. No retinue in sight.”
The man raised an outstretched hand to the sky. Lynd traced the lines of the man’s arm in his mind’s eye. There was simply so much to capture. Too much. He’d need a lifetime to ingrain all of the man’s body in such a way as to not be an insult to the masterpiece. Talos was the perfect blend of softness of the human condition combined with the angular rigidity of a warrior.
There he went, getting lost in his muses again. Lynd chided himself for entertaining the thought. Talos raised a good point.
“My family won’t be happy to hear that you were appointed as emissary,” he said, at last. “They won’t abide the insult.”
“And mine will be all the happier for it,” Talos sighed. He blew a lock of darkest black hair out of his eyes, and propped a hand behind his head to look down at Lynd, who was navigating the treacherous and altogether warm terrain that was his host’s chest, which rose and fell in even swelling motions. “Last I heard, you had no formal training beyond some tutoring in Magicks.”
He let the unspoken question hang, even as Lynd climbed up the trough between Talos’ pectorals. Every step was coiling, tense, but more expectant and confident with every passing second.
When he finally reached the Talos’ collarbone, Lynd looked up. Talos was focusing on him with an intense expression that would have singed a human. As it was, it stunned Lynd into gaping at the man’s beautiful features, eyes like almonds and the color of dark chocolate, before he regained his senses.
Magick brought memories of fractured friendships and lost dreams. “I was. My talents lie elsewhere than the arcane though.”
“Oh?” Without even checking to see if it was okay, Talos brought his immense hand up to Lynd, and brushed him with a graze of his fingers. Lynd, in turn was sent tumbling down the vast angled cliff he’d just climbed, coming to a stop in the amphitheatre formed by Talos’ raised legs and his abdomen. Talos continued, unfazed by Lynd’s fall. “Did your people purposefully send their most inexperienced and least valuable prince to wreak havoc on these talks?”
“Just important enough to die, but not useful enough to live,” Lynd repeated the phrase he heard around the kitchens whenever he left his room for some snacks. “Such is the fate of the sparest of heirs. Unwanted by the crown, unknown to the people.”
Talos stilled, conflict fleeting across his face before he resumed his normal insouciance. “They expect me to kill you.”
“They expect someone to kill me, not necessarily you.” Lynd wasn’t sure why but he had to make sure Talos understood the distinction. He wasn’t what Lynd had expected. He was calmer, for one. Magnificent, for another. “I imagine they’d be surprised to hear that your maid didn’t crush me on sight.”
“Marisol is a gentle soul,” Talos offered. “She is mouthy, and oversteps her bounds half the time, but she is one of the few able to come near me without running in terror. She would never hurt another soul.”
It seemed that he was done lying down, because soon Lynd was rolling and struggling to right himself as Talos lifted, rising into a proper sitting position with bent legs spread. Lynd had lived through earthquakes more peaceful than Talos rising, but the experience was infinitely more exhilarating. What kind of change could a being like Talos enact if they so wished? Not with magic, not with steel, but simple physical power.
“It would seem then we’re at an impasse,” Lynd said at last, stopping his vantage search to admire the hard lines and creases in Talos’ skin. The loincloth rested loosely between Talos’ thighs, but there was no mistaking the mind-numbing heat that emanated from beneath the covering. “My people and your people both wish to sabotage these peace talks, and yet here we are, both being absolutely miserable at it.”
Talos made an agreeing noise. “Truly, we are terrible negotiators. What say you to a truce?”
“A truce within a truce?”
“My father likes to think himself the grand politicker, and me the brutish warrior.” Carefully, deliberately, Talos spread his legs further apart. This had the side-effect of both ends of the loincloth draping over the mammoth member. “But clearly there is more to me than you expected.”
Lynd’s eyes fixed on Talos’ risen cock, barely hidden by the cloth anymore. He couldn’t resist the urge to be cheeky. “A lot more.”
Talos laughed. “Oh I like you! Most people are afraid when they see me at my proudest. But you! You only see a summit to climb!”
“I-” Lynd hesitated. It was ludicrous. He could tell what Talos was hinting at, how could he not, but as enticing as an indulgent bacchanalia sounded (nevermind the logistics), there was one request he wished to make first. “Before I agree to this, I’d like to make a request.”
That piqued Talos’ interest. He was massive, and encompassing on all sides, his sheer scent and presence effusing Lynd’s own logical and restrained compulsions.
“Before I leave, before I go back and report our.... success, I’d like to do one thing.”
Talos face was massive. Lynd would need days just to capture the outlines of his features. “Do tell, little prince.”
“I want to paint you.”
Confusion and then shock graced the man’s features. For the first time, true vulnerability was in the air. “That is a most unusual request.”
The tension remained. Lynd shrugged helplessly. “I’m an unusual person.”
“You’re a very small person,” Talos countered. He was trying to avoid the question. “What are you? About the width of my finger? So much courage in such a small body.”
One of Talos’ fingers brushed down, and knocked Lynd on his back, but instead of offense, he couldn’t help the bubbling of laughter rising in his chest. He bravely batted the giant’s probing digit away and stared up at his newest compatriot in uncharacteristic challenge. “Well? What say you, Talos?”
“Any attempt worth the effort will take weeks, months even.” Talos warned, but he didn’t sound discouraged. Only exultant.
“Then it’s a good thing our people have so many troubles to address, I expect we will need to meet many times to even begin to reach a resolution.”