Please Don't Tell My Mom... [Past; Lukas]

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Left step. Right swing, counter-step. Parry. Thrust—upper right block, diagonal strike.

Step forward –leading with your right foot—and drive your elbow firmly into their chest.

That was what Ludwig, the young Prince of the Kingdom of Hearts, had been taught by his swords masters and he did well to follow their example and practice when he could. He couldn’t afford to fail, after all, since he was not only the only son of the two monarchs, but their only Heir. He needed to prove that he was capable not only in his normal studies of diplomacy and etiquette, but on the battlefield as well. Otherwise, he was as useless as a sack of potatoes.

However, training often proved to be rather dull and predicable at best. Especially when the 12 year old was forced to go over the same steps and the same forms over and over again until they were JUST SO. Even during ‘matches’ he was hardly ever satisfied with his opponents—it wasn’t that he was a prodigy, but almost all of them seemed to hold back; no one wanted to hurt the Princeling, after all. The most he would get is knocked to the ground and a small bruise or two from blocking with his arm or from having his shins kicked at or smacked with the wooden sword to enforce the fact that “YOU NEED TO FIX YOUR FORM AND BLOCK!” And while Ludwig was rather glad that he didn’t receive true bodily harm, it was still extremely infuriating that no one had bothered to push his limits. He felt unprepared for the face of combat (not that he would see much until he was a few years older anyway) and he had taken it into his own hands to better prepare for such a thing.

That’s where his best friend came into play.

The two were known for getting into mild bits of trouble together in the past, and at the very least, Feli wouldn’t be one to decline an invitation to spar with his friend (so long as he didn’t seriously injure the Prince, that is, and vice versa). After all, they were both young, and seeing as how they both could use some decent practice against capable opponents, it seemed the perfect choice. However, Ludwig knew quite well that if they attempted to have their little duel in the training field, the instructors would almost immediately put an end to it and his best friend would be scolded. That is why the young man decided it would be best to hold their match in one of the private gardens—away from the prying eyes of his trainers and parents.

Unfortunately, with the abundance of Flora and décor, the session proved to be a bit difficult. Naturally both ended up with bruises and small scrapes from rubbing against some of the thorn bushes and running into stone pedestals. However, Ludwig—be it from his friend’s blade or something else in the garden—Ludwig had a cut on his left cheek that, once the pair noticed it, put a halt to their fun. Feliciano could retreat to the barracks and tend to himself but the Jack-in-Training insisted that the blond go to one of the apprentices or the court physician in order to get properly healed. After all, if Ludwig’s mother caught sight of it and if it scabbed up terribly and scarred, then she would have both of the boys’ heads. Regardless, Ludwig had no intentions of ratting out his best friend – that just wouldn’t do.

It was for that reason that the nervous youth made his way toward Lukas’ quarters and raised his hand to knock at the door. His face, flushed and a bit sweaty from the round with Feli only turned redder at the fact that he was anxious and his mother could summon him at any time – or worse yet, she would be told later on. Ludwig had…well, come to think of it, he, the serious and nearly perfect little heir of the Beilschmidt family, had never actually hidden anything from his parents—nothing like this at least. But this was his business and it didn’t truly concern them since they wouldn’t REALLY be affected by it, right? Or that was what he told himself as he knocked at the door again, his arm shaking slightly.

“Mr. Lukas please open up—!“ Despite that the fact that the other was his ‘inferior’ in rank, he held on to formalities because it was not only polite (and his mother had taught him properly), but the other was seven years his elder. “Mr. Lukas, please, it’s Ludwig— I-I need your help...” His tone was a bit hushed, but frantic nonetheless, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was committing some federal crime by trying to hide this little incident. His eyes darted down the hall to the left and then to the right as he swallowed thickly, waiting for the other to answer. “Oh God, please don’t be out on an errand!”

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OoC:

I hope this is suitable for some initial interaction, Lukas Iversen.

[Lukas Iversen]

It was surprising how little medical training his apprenticeship sometimes contained, his days often filled with running random errands for the Master Healer. Many apprentices liked to complain about such tasks, deeming themselves above such jobs more fit for the servants, but he knew to keep his mouth shut even when he did find his appointed tasks an annoyance. The Court Healer was an old man and had seen enough students to know how to deal with the rebellious and the whiny ones, and Lukas had learned that by silently obeying each order was the easiest way to avoid getting more work piled on himself.

Today’s errands hadn’t been too awful, luckily, and had even bordered the field of medicine and healing. First, he’d been asked to run down to the library room to find a certain book on the history and development of healing magic; something that was simple yet turned out to take a little longer than expected as the Royal Book Collection was quite massive. And when he’d eventually found the quite hefty tome, he’d flipped through the pages out of curiosity for a short moment that in the end had turned into a better part of an hour. He’d been fortunate enough to avoid a lecture from the Master once he’d dragged the book up the stairs to his study, but wasn’t sure if the following request to prepare and sort dried medical herbs into jars and label them actually needed doing or was meant to act as a punishment for his tardiness. In any case he approached the tedious task with his usual silent obedience, hardly saying a word as he chopped, crushed and bottled the plants and marked each one in small and neat cursive.

It was well past noon when the Master Healer himself called for him from the front of his study, asking him whether he was done and when given an affirmative response, asked for his opinion about his current client’s medical condition. Honored but also aware that this was also a test of his skills, he introduced himself to the Lady he recognized as the wife of one of the nobles and a good friend of the Queen’s before asking her a couple questions. Her ailment showed no physical signs, but her complaints of dizziness and fatigue and the unusually pale complexion had him suspecting iron deficiency. It was a common problem with women, after all, and the Court Healer’s approving nod upon hearing his diagnosis told him that he’d been correct in his guess. He was told to proceed with providing the Lady with suitable medicine, which he swiftly retrieved from the shelves and neatly wrapped before handing it to her with instructions and sending her on her way.

The Master Healer wasn’t too generous with his praises, but Lukas knew he’d done well by the softened expression on the older man’s face and the fact that he was finally relieved of his duties and given the rest of the day free. Glad to have some precious hours to dedicate to himself and his own little experiments, he headed back to his chambers, though the sight that greeted him as he arrived at his door was something he hadn’t expected; the little prince was standing there, knocking on his door and obviously quite distraught. Though he wondered why his Highness would be at his door and not the Court Healer’s, he picked up his pace a little to hurry to Ludwig’s side, not one to take someone of his importance lightly no matter the case. “What’s the matter, your Highness?” He asked as he approached the Prince, his robes swishing against the stone floor as he came to a halt and crouched beside him, nodding his head in a small bow. “Are you hurt?” The Prince did appear to be somewhat flushed and breathless, and when he examined his face he noticed the bleeding scrape on his cheek. It didn’t seem very serious, but considering Ludwig’s anxious state he assumed it must be a result of something not quite approved by the Queen. Which didn’t surprise him; the Prince of the Hearts Kingdom was extremely polite and serious for his age, but he was still a child. Even little princes got in trouble sometimes. “Hmm, I think we should take a look at that.” He said, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he stood up straight again to open the door and gesture for the Prince to step in.

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Ludwig Beilschmidt

[Ludwig Beilschmidt]

As the moments passed, Ludwig’s heart plummeted deeper and deeper into the pit of his belly. Worry and fear were setting in even more, and the likelihood of being scolded by the apprentice healer (if he was anything like the old man that he shadowed) was something that made his stomach twist all the more. He didn’t mind instruction, but as most children, he sorely hated being reprimanded or scolded … especially if the words “...you should be more careful” were ever uttered. He knew that he needed to be more careful—he knew that very well and he didn’t exactly need to be reminded of it. No…besides, the little slash on his face would serve to be a suitable reminder in and of itself. Inhaling sharply and clenching his jaw to try to bite back a few more tears and a whine at the delay of an answer, he raised his fist to knock again.

“What’s the matter, your Highness?”

A wave of relief overtook Ludwig as he turned to Lukas with a small sigh and a rather hesitant nod to the man’s inquiry of him being hurt. Normally, with any other little scrape or scratch, he would say I’m fine and try to carry on about his business, however, this injury was something a bit different …and way to obvious to pass off as “nothing”. Lifting a hand, he swiped at a dampened eye as the man came down to his level. The boy’s face contorted into a look of worry as Lukas inspected him, but he did point a bit to the rather obvious cut on his face with a little murmur of “this”. However, as the other blonde rose and waited for the young Prince to move into the room, some of Ludwig’s nerves were swept away—especially at the sight of a fleeting smirk rather than a disapproving frown. Without delay, the Prince of Hearts moved into the room and waited for Lukas to shut the door. It wasn't until the portal closed that Ludwig would be able to relax a bit more and could address Lukas properly...after all, that door would serve as a shield to whoever or whatever dared to pass through the halls and it offered a bit of safety. Still, Ludwig decidedly kept his voice hushed and just a bit above a whisper.

“Please, please don’t tell mother, Mr. Lukas… she would certainly kill me if she found out – “ he swallowed a bit, his cornflower blue eyes locked on the other’s features hopefully. He knew for certain that if he HAD gone to the Master Healer, the man would surely have informed the Queen. “Can you fix it? It won’t scar will it? She’d kill me twice if it were to scar…”

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OoC: Lukas Iversen Apologies for the wait and the brevity, but I hope this is enough to work with. If not, let me know and I shall try to add a bit more.

[Lukas Iversen]

The Prince’s agitation was clear in the way he hurried through the opened door, as if the Queen herself was likely to round the corner and catch him at any second. It was a little amusing, but at the same time he did not take any injury lightly – especially when it came to the royal family. He followed Ludwig inside and closed the door, and as soon as he turned to the Prince he launched into nervous babble.

“Please, please don’t tell mother, Mr. Lukas… she would certainly kill me if she found out – “

“I won’t tell anyone. Now, let me see that first.” He said calmly and gestured the Prince to take a seat, the leaned in closer to examine the wound. It was had been bleeding but appeared to have stopped by now, and it certainly wasn’t anything life threatening. Even if the Prince seemed convinced that if the scrape didn’t kill him, the Queen would. Humming quietly, he stood up again and started to gather some basic supplies.

“Don’t worry, it shouldn’t scar.” He assured the Prince as he pulled out pieces of clean cloth and some strong alcohol. “Wounds to the head and face tend to bleed a lot, so they often appear worse than they actually are. But I promise it won’t look worse than a cat scratch once I’ve cleaned it up.” The truth was, it might scar a bit if left to heal on its own, even if it was likely to fade to almost nothing with time. And while normally he wouldn’t have bothered to try to prevent that, this was the Prince and heir to the kingdom. Not to mention how distraught Ludwig was about the whole thing. He didn’t have the heart to send him on his way just like that.

He popped open the bottle and soaked a piece of cloth in the alcohol, kneeling before the Prince again. “This will sting a little.” He warned before pressing the cloth to the cut, waiting for it to soften the dried blood before gently wiping it clean. The friction made the scrape bleed again, if just a little, so he murmured a “Hold this for a bit,” to the Prince and stood up to rummage through his shelves again.

“So.” He looked over his shoulder at Ludwig as he pulled out little jars and pouches of different herbs and other ingredients. “What it is that you were doing that the Queen would so strongly disapprove of?” He was careful not to sound judgmental; he did want the Prince to tell him the truth. He’d promised not to tell the Queen, but he figured that if it was something that was actually dangerous he would be obliged to at least tell the guards to keep an eye on the little heir.

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Ludwig Beilschmidt