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Old March 14th, 2013, 12:16 AM
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A Word Out of Place - Part 4

This story is now complete. Content warnings and description for this story accompany part 1. Each part has a link to the next part at the end for your convenience.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten


It would be easier to remember to keep posting this if I actually were writing it as I go along, instead of just breaking it up. A lesson learned for next time, I guess.

Tomorrow night, I think I'll go back and do two things: add "next part" links to all parts of this story and the other one I'm currently posting (I forgot to do that up until now) and also alter the intro text to the parts of the rewrite of "Ryan, My 'Little' Brother" so that each part has links to all the parts at the top, and none of them have the thing about retconning which turned out not be necessary.

And then I'll write some new stuff in the other story. Really! And maybe make a start on the rewrite of "Caveman", which I'm kind of looking forward to.

A lot of people wanted me to make the other rewrite a lot more explicit than it was, and I just couldn't do it, because once I decided that Ryan was going to stay an 11-year-old inside and Alex was going to be a responsible, level-headed guy, there was just no way the story would go too extreme. And I think it made the overall story stronger to not let the two of them turn into total testosterone junkies. Well, "Caveman" may not reach the level of some of the stories on here, but I think it's going to make some of the people who were disappointed in the later parts of the Ryan story -- which may include BigBearMan94 himself, sorry to say, although he hasn't said anything -- more satisfied.

(As I think the two ongoing stories will demonstrate by the time they're finished, I want to write lots of different stuff, not just the same things over and over. At some point, I'd like to do a muscle theft story, for example. But I need to find a way to do it so I'm not just reworking stuff which other people have already done -- really well in some cases.)


A Word Out of Place
Part 4

"Very good, Prince Andrew. You have wonderful reflexes. By my estimate, if we continue with your training, you will be as good with a sword as the captain of the guard in a little under a year."

"Excellent! But that's enough for today, I hope. How you can do this while burdened with all that armor is beyond me."

"It's the spell, really, but I suppose I have simply grown used to it."

"Well, I am not. And although it's a bit early for dinner, I am ravenous. I think I could eat Alfred's favorite horse and take a long look at his dog as well. Let's go to the orchard. Surely there will be something there."

"Shall we bring a ladder, Prince Andrew?"

"No need. In my youth, I climbed every tree in the castle. If I can't manage a few apples now, then what's the use of growing up at all?"

"Are you certain, Prince Andrew?"

"Need you ask? Hurry, before I die of hunger."

In fact, the apple season had not yet begun. The only ripe fruit in the orchard was a small selection of late oranges. Andrew threw three down to Simon, and then seated himself on a low branch and quickly peeled the thick skin from two more. As he ate, he watched Simon's hands and forearms as the larger man peeled and ate the fruit. He carefully waited until Simon had finished his fruit, and then cleared his throat noisily.

"I think I am losing my balance, Simon. Oh dear." He pushed himself from the branch; Simon scrambled and caught Andrew lightly, then set him on his feet.

"Testing me is hardly fair, Prince Andrew."

"Yes, well, I would hate to find out the limits of your reflexes when a failure might have serious consequences. So I'd better test you in advance."

"Next time, please give me some warning."


Prince Andrew was very tired. Sword training was extremely wearing. Nevertheless, he found the energy to arch his back and stifle his moans as he pushed himself to ecstasy. Those arms! So strong, but so gentle! If only it had lasted longer. He would have to think about it for a while.

On the other side of the door, guards patrolled. Simon had departed for his bath.


"Aha, Prince Andrew, you're earlier for dinner every day. I hardly have time to finish the food before you eat it."

"Your tone belies your complaint."

"I must confess it's pleasant to cook for such an appreciative audience. And I think it's doing you good, too. I could swear you're broader across the shoulders and fuller in the face than you were six months ago."

"Good afternoon, Ellen."

"Good afternoon to you, Master Simon. I've saved you some of the pastries we made for the orchard workers, since you liked them so much."

"Thank you, Ellen."

"It was no trouble at all, Master Simon. You're doing wonders for Our Lord and Master, here, though you may not know it. Would you care for some chutney?"

"If he won't, then I will."

"Goodness, much more of this and you'll be Master Simon's equal at the table. I take it your studies are progressing?"

"We have completed Father's ridiculous curriculum on Deportment, yes."

"Hush, my dear, you know I was referring to the martial training."

"Well, Simon, as my tutor, I suppose I should leave the progress report to you."

"Very well, then. Prince Andrew shows remarkable facility with the sword, and in light of his skill, we have commenced instruction in tournament fencing as well. At his request, we now also engage in the training exercises favored by the royal guard, and the Prince is now capable of running twenty laps around the outer walls in light mail."

"I've been asking Simon to include grappling matches in our tuition, like the guards do, but he refuses."

"Prince Andrew, I am not permitted to allow you to come to harm. I do not believe you are yet strong enough to support my weight, even without my mail and plate. Until I judge that you have sufficient strength to safely escape from a light hold, I will not permit you to wrestle me."

"Then we should draft one of the other, lighter guards."

Simon's face flushed. "No, Prince Andrew. Teaching you is my privilege, and the other guards have work of their own."

Ellen watched the two men argue with her head to one side, a faint smile on her face. After a moment, she cleared her throat.

"Clearly, the exercise is doing you good, Prince Andrew. Now, perhaps the two of you would be interested in pie?"



"Prince Andrew, please hold still. I cannot apply the compresses if you continue to squirm."

"I can't help it! They feel disgusting!"

"I warned you that grappling would be difficult, and that you should have waited until you were stronger."

"I know, but I want this sort of experience. There is a great deal of boredom in my future, if Father has his way. If it costs me a certain amount of pain, at least I am free of the stultifying atmosphere of the throne room. I would much rather grapple you, even if it takes me a year or two to win." In the privacy of his head, Andrew added to himself "I would much rather grapple you without clothing, especially if it takes a year or two."

"Are you certain, Prince Andrew? I do not wish to demean you, but I am under a spell which essentially guarantees that you will never be able to reach my level of ability."

"Is that so? Then I'll make it an order. Simon, I order you to train me in such martial arts as I may choose to the best of your ability, to make me as close to your equal as possible."

"Yes, Prince Andrew. We had better head to the kitchens, then."

"What? Will I be starting by peeling potatoes?"

"No, Prince Andrew. But your diet is wrong if you have expressed your wishes exactly. You eat too little, and of the wrong types of food. The guards eat even more than you have recently been eating, but they eat far less bread and as much meat as the cook will provide. I am sure that Ellen will provide you with the necessary changes if we ask, but it is hardly considerate for you to expect a good cook to read your mind."

"Ah, I had not considered that. Very well. Let me put my tunic on -- curse these compresses! -- and we'll be on our way. Astonishing, the details involved in the routine of a guard."

"If I may say, Prince Andrew, you have been educated in the areas which will make you an excellent landlord and head of state, but now you have set your sights on a very different goal. It is hardly surprising that you are unaware of the principles involved."

"Thank you, my most excellent tutor. Now, shall we depart for the kitchens?"


Ellen nodded. "I had wondered about that, Prince Andrew. I'm afraid it is a bit too late for any changes to the menu for tonight, although there is some extra ham remaining, but in the future I will be happy to prepare meals to Master Simon's orders."

"I bow to your expertise, fair lady. And you have my humblest thanks."

"Yes, Ellen, thank you. I will prepare a list of suggested modifications to the standard guard training diet, but in a general way, extra eggs, meat, and green vegetables are the style. And now the Prince and I will adjourn to his bedroom."

Andrew's face went as red as a beet. "What?"

"My Prince, if you have strained yourself severely enough to require compresses, then you will be helped dramatically by a good rubdown. I will provide it myself. Your back and arms will hurt much less tomorrow if you will accede to this request; the guards typically spend half an hour performing and receiving rubdowns after their training exercises."

"W-well, er, if you say so. Ellen, may I have a jug of ale for later? I think I will be thirsty after all the exercise."

"May I carry that for you, Prince Andrew?"

"No, no, I can manage it. Please follow me."

Ellen watched the two men depart, Andrew supporting the jug in front of him, slightly below waist level, with both hands. Gladys walked over, polishing a fork.

"Aren't they just wonderful? And neither one is taken."

Ellen chuckled. "I think, Gladys, that neither one of them WILL be taken, by you or any other of the girls."

"Oh, Ma'am, I didn't mean that I would dare to chase the Prince, and me a scullery maid. But they are both so handsome! And the Prince is beginning to be so manly, just like Master Simon."

Ellen shot Gladys a sideways glance. "And very nice boys they are, too. But although they don't seem to realize it yet, I think they are spoken for. It is a good thing that Andrew will not be called upon to provide an heir."

"What? Oh! Do you really think so, Ma'am?"

"I've been observing young people in love for thirty years, ever since my Robert was killed in the wars. It would be terrible to think I was getting the signs wrong after all that practice. Have you noticed how Master Simon looks at the Prince when he thinks nobody is watching? He's like a puppy."

"Well, that's a bit of a waste. But at least they will make a pretty pair."

"Yes. Now hurry with the rest of the drying. We have chickens to pluck."


Prince Andrew's now-familiar routine of self-pleasure was exceptionally active that night, soreness or no. Even now, hours later, he could feel Simon's hands on the skin of his back and arms, and even his backside. And there would be more to come! Training of some sort every day, and a rubdown after every session! He grinned into the darkness. And to think, Father thought life at this fortress was dull!

Outside the door, Simon stared into space. Beside him was a sheet of paper covered in dietary notes. He was thinking through memories, trying to recall details. Before the eye of his memory floated beakers and retorts.

Part 5

Last edited by tekuno; March 24th, 2013 at 10:51 PM.
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  #2   Add to renbear's Reputation   Report Post  
Old March 14th, 2013, 12:59 AM
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Beakers and retorts?

Waitwaitwaitwait. Beakers and retorts?! <dramatic chord>

Well-written, tekuno. And may I say that you are doing fine, as far as the language style being evocative of the setting. Mark you, thees, thous and the -eth form can be mangled easily, and thus stick out like the proverbial sore thumb; though I daresay you would manage passing fine, if the fancy so took you. ;-)
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