Demon King's Gardener

“Ready for tomorrow,” Jurao asked, walking across the Mocking Garden to speak with his partner.

Braelin sighed, tossing chunks of meat to the Laughing Birds. He was wearing a grass-woven, wide-brimmed hat against the bright sunlight they’d started having and pushed it up before answering, “As much as I can be, I suppose.”

“I had some free time before the midday meal,” the King said, watching as the flowers gobbled up the meat much like the bristlespines kept by beast hunters used to - at least, as well as Jurao remembered it. He spotted Petal being playfully chased by Wooly Moss nearby, which also reminded him of bristlespines.

“Ah,” his partner acknowledged, pulling his glove up to check his timekeeper, “I thought it was a bit early.”

It still made Jurao smile to see his gift in use, and he asked, “Is there anything I can do to make the ceremony easier.”

“Not unless demon ceremonies would consider handholding appropriate,” Braelin smiled, finishing up feeding the flowers.

“We could anyway,” Jurao replied.

His partner chuckled, removing his gloves, “Considering flaunting social convention got us to this point, I think it better that… ah…”

Jurao turned, following Braelin’s gaze towards the entrance to the garden as the human trailed off.

Standing there was Ayelma, looking fresh from a ride with her hair in a loose braid - she smiled as she took a step to the side, dropping the wrist of the person she’d dragged with her.

Jurao knew who it had to be instantly.

Malson, Braelin’s older brother and the former crown prince of Jost, stood around five and a half feet tall with wavy, dirty blond hair cut short. He had the same pale, near-white blue eyes as all his siblings, and wore well-weathered travel gear. Despite his reputation for being loud, the man was silent now - staring at his younger brother with an unreadable expression.

“Look who I ran into on my ride,” Ayelma said - but quietly rather than in her usually confident manner. She clasped her hands behind her back, looking between her brothers expectantly.

Behind Malson emerged a familiar face - Apaje, who nodded to Jurao before glancing at the former human prince and stepping aside.

For several long moments, no one moved or said anything - Braelin and Malson just stared at each other with equally indecipherable expressions.

Gently, Jurao reached out and pushed his partner forward.

The small motion seemed to break whatever tension had held both men back - though it was Malson who ran the distance and crashed into his brother, wrapping him in a fierce hug as he said, voice breaking, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah,” Braelin replied, returning the embrace with a voice equally heavy with emotion, “Yeah, I am.”

Jurao walked around them, not wanting to interrupt the reunion as he approached the other two present. He looked to his old sibling in arms and greeted, “Apaje.”

“Jurao,” ce nodded, holding out an arm to shake, “How’s being King?”

“Taxing, at times,” Jurao replied, glancing down as Petal appeared at his feet. It had a habit of coming to him when Braelin was occupied. He asked, “Were you the one to find Malson and Beneford.”

“I was,” Apaje said, glancing at the Crushfern before ce jerked cer head back, “Ben went to the cottage since Ayelma suggested it.”

“Well, you know,” Ayelma wiped at her eyes, “Since he and uncle are pretty private…”

Jurao nodded, looking back. He said, “They have a lot to catch up on.”

“I’ve heard almost dying for somebody tends to do that,” Apaje observed dryly, then snorted, “Well, my job’s done - going to report to Vajur for now.”

“Glad you’re doing well,” the King replied, waving cer off.

Apaje waved back, looking at the greenery curiously as ce left.

“BUT HEY!”

Jurao jumped at the sudden shout, turning back.

“DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DO THAT AGAIN!” Malson continued shouting, indeed rivaling Gnori in volume despite his much smaller stature. He’d stepped back, but had his hands on Braelin’s shoulders as he went on, “WHY WOULD YOU-!”

Braelin just chuckled, “You’d do the same for me.”

“WELL YEAH!” his brother continued, volume dropping slightly as he continued, “But I’m the oldest! I’m supposed to protect all of you! Not the other way around!”

“Sure, sure,” Braelin replied, laughing more as he wiped at his eyes and patted Malson’s shoulder - his other hand rubbing at his chest.

Malson caught the motion, and it clearly knocked the wind out of him.

Before Braelin could notice the reaction, Jurao walked back over to take his partner’s hand as usual as he said, “Perhaps it would be best to reconvene on the veranda.”

As he’d hoped, the motion distracted Malson, who glared at their joined hands.

Braelin hummed, “Good idea - Malson?”

“What’s that!?” his brother demanded, pointing at their hands.

“Not already,” Ayelma sighed heavily, walking over to join them.

Petal was on her heels, and circled around the group of them as if trying to see what was happening more clearly.

“Ah,” Braelin replied, “This is the Demon King, Jurao. We’re courting.”

“Court-!” Malson’s face started turning red before he glared up at Jurao and declared, “ABSOLUTELY NOT! I FORBID IT!”

“I knew it…” Ayelma sighed again, putting her hands on her hips.

Braelin just rolled his eyes and started leading the way out of the gardens - without releasing Jurao’s hand - as he said, “No, that’s not necessary.”

“WHAT!?” Malson demanded, jogging to catch up with them, “Then he’s not forcing you to be in a relationship with him!?”

What kind of person does he think I am? Jurao wondered, fine with being gently pulled along.

“Jurao isn’t that kind of person,” Braelin replied.

“And you aren’t just going along with it because it seems easier than saying no!?” Malson demanded further.

That I can’t fault him for thinking, the King thought to himself.

“It would probably be easier not to be courting, actually,” Braelin sighed, “The demon court is pretty divided about it…”

Jurao gave his partner’s hand a gentle squeeze, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Braelin snorted, offering the King a smile. His eyes were still watery, but Jurao was fairly certain it was a happy kind of watery.

“But-!” Malson made a noise of frustration, seeming unable to come up with another possible reason they should not be courting.

“Oh, give it a rest,” Ayelma groaned, “They’re so cute together, you’ll see!”

“Cu-!” Malson’s pale face was going redder by the second, “CUTE!?”

“Yes, cute,” his sister rolled her eyes, “Braelin told you it’s fine, so you gotta give Jurao a chance, at least!”

Malson glared up at the King again, then huffed, grumbling to himself in dissatisfaction.

Meir’ril and Nevve were on the back veranda already - though rather than Owren, High Priest Milve sat nearby.

“I take it my uncle will not be joining us?” Braelin asked.

Milve sighed, “No, I don’t believe so.”

“I wondered where Ben was, but that makes sense,” Braelin nodded, finding a seat.

Petal, as usual, settled under the human gardener’s chair - tendrils wrapping around the man’s ankles.

Nevve whistled, “Could hear you from all the way over here - you must be all lungs, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Malson demanded, looking at the gathered group uncertainly.

Ayelma rolled her eyes as she brushed past him, “That you’reloud, Mal.”

“Um,” Meir’ril stood, shifting his weight uncertainly, “Hey, Malson.”

“Hey!?” his older brother stomped across the way - and pulled the youngest of the three brothers into a hug, “Fifteen years, and all I get is hey!?”

Meir’ril laughed, hugging back - and soon stifled a sob, “You’re really okay, too.”

“Course I am!” Malson replied, his own voice shaky, “I’m the oldest; I have to look out for all of you! I can’t do that if I’m dead!”

“Right, yeah,” Meir’ril replied, pulling back and wiping at his eyes.

Food was brought out as the brothers found seats - Malson still glaring suspiciously at Jurao as he sat next to Braelin. As they ate, Braelin recounted his story of how he’d ended up in the Demon Realm as Royal Gardener - since Malson refused to speak of anything else before then. When he was done, Meir’ril and Ayelma recalled their story of escape and traveling as refugees. Onlythen would Malson share his own tale.

“Well, you were right about me getting Dad and Eweylona to safety first!” Malson said, still too loud for polite conversation but no longer truly shouting, “I went to the throne room first with Ben and sent our parents off with him while I covered their retreat - that was how fucking Ferrick got me alone! The guards that stayed to fight with me were traitors and turned on me as soon as Ben left - guess Ferrick had it all planned or something!

“Then he started spouting all that shit about Dad being a bad king because he fucking dared to be nice to people, or whatever, even though the treasury was in the best shape it had ever been in, our emergency food stores were full, trade was profitable, and the common people loved him! How do you look at that and think, ‘this guy is a shit king’ unless you’re a greedy fuck!?”

“That’s certainly a mouth for a former prince,” Minaz snorted, walking onto the veranda, “Or so I assume.”

“What’s it to you, huh!?” Malson demanded, twisting in his seat.

“Minaz, my older brother, Malson,” Braelin sighed, “Malson, this is Minaz, Jurao’s Right Hand - basically his top advisor and designated regent.”

“He used to be more polite,” Ayelma grinned in glee, “At least, he didn’t swear as much.”

Minaz chuckled, leaning on a nearby pillar, “Well, spending time with pirates will do that, or so Apaje says. I just came out because I heard you’d arrived - Braelin’s been pretty worried about all of you.”

“Well!” Malson started, then huffed, “Yeah, of course!”

“What happened next, Malson?” Meir’ril prompted.

Malson huffed again, then continued, “Ferrick kept running his mouth until I got tired of that shit and punched him - that’s when he pulled out this fae spear and… uh…”

Jurao took Braelin’s hand again before he had time to reach up, and his partner gave him a grateful smile as he briefly squeezed back.

Ayelma waved a hand, “And Braelin took the hit for you; Ben showed up to get you both out, and you had to leave Braelin in a barn somewhere - what happenedthen?”

Malson physically shook off whatever feelings had made him hesitate and cleared his throat, “Right - I went looking for a doctor! And I found Ben already in the nearest one’s hut - but then Ferrick’s men showed up, so we had to move, and Braelin had already left by the time we made it back to the barn!”

“Sorry,” Braelin said.

“It’s fucking Ferrick’s fault!” Malson snapped back, but his ire was clearly for his usurpetuous uncle. He went on, “So we headed for the coast since Ben said it was best to get out of the country as quickly as possible!”

“Uncle had the same idea,” Meir’ril chuckled, “Guess it’s not surprising they would think alike…”

“It’s just common sense,” Milve snorted - surprisingly, the High Priest had remained, though he was a largely silent presence.

“Not always so common, though, eh?” Nevve chuckled.

Ayelma rolled her eyes, “Alright, sure, but how did you meet the pirates?”

“Oh, Abbay!?” Malson asked, “Didn’t I tell you we had a correspondence already!?”

“What?” Meir’ril asked.

“That,” Ayelma struggled to say more.

“Oh, it was that Abbay?” Braelin said mildly, “You must have been happy to finally meet in person.”

“Of course!” Malson said proudly, “And she’s just as amazing in person as she was in her letters!”

“It was pretty surprising to find out he really was corresponding with the infamous pirate queen.”

Jurao turned at a new voice, which had to be the former Guard Captain Beneford - given he was human and approached them with Owren.

Beneford was about six and a half feet tall, with light brown skin, wavy black hair going gray, and warm brown eyes. One of his arms had been replaced with a siren metal prosthetic, and he bowed with a hand over his heart, “I believe you are the Demon King?”

“I am,” Jurao confirmed, “Former Guard Captain Beneford.”

“He’s asking,” Owren huffed, nodding to Milve as the High Priest left his seat for the human, “Even I’m startin’ to pick up on it…”

Beneford smiled as he rose, “Yes, but just Beneford or Ben is fine. Thank you for taking care of Braelin, the twins, and Owren so far.”

“Of course,” Jurao said, “Braelin had already done the castle a great service caring for the gardens in secret. It was the least I could do to repay him.”

“So I’ve heard,” Beneford chuckled - hesitating only a moment before sitting next to Owren.