Young Writers Society

Polly's eyes lit up when she saw Lucas and she held out the teddy bear she was holding.

"His eye came off a little while ago," The teddy's button eye dangled by a thread, a miracle it's still attached. "Could you fix it, Lulu?"

Orvin glanced between them, connecting the dots in his head. Lulu? He had heard plenty of tales about them from polly, about how he used to give toys to all the village children, and how she never got to say goodbye. There were days she'd sit on the side of the ship, wondering what he was up to or how he was doing. Orvin was glad to meet him.

"The infamous Lulu," Orvin teased. "Polly has told me much about you."

Lucas's cheeks turned red. Finding out that Polly knew the pirate currently teasing him was bad enough on its own, but hearing that nickname from said pirate was even worse.

"I didn't know you knew each other," he said, awkwardly tucking a strand of black hair behind one ear.

Cheeks still burning, he turned back to Polly.

"I can," he promised, taking Fuzzy from her. "I just need to grab my sewing kit and find a good place to sit."

Polly knew Lucas. Polly knew Lucas? Polly knew Lucas and he repaired toys for orphans? And they call him Lulu? That was too sweet, that was too precious, Archibald was beside himself with intrigue and on top of that he had never watched somebody do sewing up close like this. (His sister Harriet did embroidery but he was too afraid to go near her when she had sharp needles and her tapestries were usually lurid depictions of glorious one sided massacres.)

Archibald was so excited he scanned the room for said sewing kit, fetched it unbidden, and shoved it into Lucas' hands.

Now he HAD to do it. And Archibald was going to hover like a curious hover bird and there was nothing Lucas could do about it.

This is living, this is what we call adventure, thought the young prince.

His blush deepened.

He could feel Archibald's gaze on him as he opened up the kit. He wasn't using to sewing with other people watching him. He wasn't used to other people watching him in general. The kids watched him when he could do quick fixes on their toys, but this was different. This was two objectively attractive men watching him while he was doing this, with one of them being a pirate captain and the other being royalty. He was a shut-in vampire who hid away from other people.

But his fingers still remembered what to do when the rest of him didn't, and it wasn't long before Polly's bear was fixed.

He handed Fuzzy back to her.

"There," he said, giving a shy, soft smile. "Good as new."

Polly's black hair falls into her face a little, and she sweeps it behind her ear, beaming at Lucas. "Thank you!" She says, and turns to Archibald, noticing the way he looks at the needle in Lucas's hand. "Y'know, you should really use your words, Archie. My friend Gwynie can embroider, I'm sure someone'd teach you if you'd just ask."

Orvin tries hard to hold back a laugh, turning around to cup a hand over his mouth.

Prince Archibald Thottington blushed.

He wasn't used to being called out for shy roundaboutness this bluntly. Polly wasn't making fun of him, either. She was in earnest, and that made it worse. Something about a child drawing his attention to the contradictions in his own actions out of legitimate innocent confusion was much worse than being bullied for it.

If Orvin or Lucas had called him Archie, Archibald would have posed at them and told them they had to fill in a form and have it signed by the Master of Ceremonies before they could call him that.

But that was not what he was about to tell Polly.

Alright then, what was he about to tell Polly?

Not that being called by an affectionate diminutive of his name awakened something dangerously giddy in his stiff taffeta heart. That was out, too.

Hang on, did he actually want to learn to sew anything in the first place, or did he just like watching people do it? He'd always been told it was a woman's activity, so he hadn't considered it for himself. There were a lot of things he hadn't considered.

Use your words, Archie.

"I'll think about it." he said coquettishly. He made a point of ignoring Orvin's clumsily stifled reaction. As long as he never admitted defeat, a prince could always win out.

"If you, uh, want," Lucas hesitantly, awkwardly said, "I could teach you?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lucas regretted them. He was talking to an actual prince like he was a friend he was offering a favor to. Lucas admittedly hadn't really had that many friends before, but he knew how casual that offer of his was.

Besides, how would that even work? He was pretty sure Orvin was holding Archibald captive right now, even though it seemed like the prince wasn't being all that restrained.

"We've a whole night to pass the time, why not." replied Archibald.

His tone was flawlessly blasé, sprinkled with noncommittal bemusement. No-one would suspect a thing.

(The thing was excitement. And no-one would suspect him of it. Excitement, that is.)

Lucas, though he didn't know Archibald was trying to hide it, very much did pick up on Archibald's excitement, but was too busy trying to figure out how he was supposed to teach a captive prince how to sew to really think much about it.

He glanced over at Orvin, silently questioning if he was actually going to allow it.

Orvin shrugs and sits down against the wall. He beckons Polly over and has her sit in his lap and begins to brush her hair with a comb he had in one of his pants pockets. Polly hums a soft tone, fidgeting her legs as he does so, holding Fuzzy tight to her chest.

With that silent approval, Lucas started to teach Archibald how to sew. They spent the next couple of hours in the library with the baked goods Lucas had stress-baked just the day before. It wasn't like he could actually eat anything he baked, so he was glad Archibald, Orvin, and Polly could all eat it instead. Even after they finished eating, there was still a decent amount of food left.

Lucas was in the middle of getting up to put the food away while Archibald tried his newfound sewing skills, but stopped in the library's doorway when he realized a sound was missing.

He couldn't hear the rain. He couldn't hear thunder, either.

He glanced out the window across the hallway. He could see a clear night sky beyond the glass—a crescent moon and an array of stars twinkling in a sea of black.

"The storm's over," he said, glancing back at the three still in the library.

Orvin raised his head, looking out the window. Polly had fallen asleep in his lap, holding Fuzzy tight. He looked at her, dragging his fingers through her hair. He stood up, gathering her into his arms. She stirred but didnt wake, finding a new comfortable position on his shoulder.

"We should probably be going, Archibald."

With this new skill, potential abounded. Archibald wasn't especially proficient, as he was a beginner, but something about the tactileness of stitching one piece of fabric to another opened up a world of possibility. Mending. Altering. Embellishing. All interesting prospects.

Lucas was sweet and gentle as a teacher, too. He remained shy, if anything being in a position of instruction seemed to elevate the poor man's self awareness. There was a degree of improvisation in his delivery. Teaching a familiar skill wasn't the same as performing it, it seemed.

But Lucas seemed invested in seeing him get slowly better at it, and never once heckled or made fun of him when he erred.

Also, his baking was really something else. (It was going to take serious self restraint for Archibald not to leave with as many cinnamon buns as he could make the pirate carry.)

Maybe he could come again, some other day? For a moment, Archibald pretended that this was feasible. It was a lovely thought.

But the rain stopped. There was no excuse with which Archibald could stall.

Not when his prolonged absence came with grave risk for Lucas, Orvin and Polly.

"You're right." said the prince, a touch of sadness lacing his affectation of casual pleasantry. "It is quite late."

He looked to Lucas, and smiled.

"Lucas, you've been a wonderful host, and a superb teacher. Thank you.

I hate to further impose, but could you show us some of the way to the castle? Just far enough to get our bearings. No-one will know that you live here."

"Actually," Orvin says, addressing primarily Archibald. "We'll be going to my ship." He says it with a tone of finality, as if there's little room to argue. "Though I'd still be happy for the extra company. Polly isn't as light as she looks, so it would be lovely to have someone who could help carry her."

It irked Archibald, that Orvin continued to defy him so effortlessly. But it was fine. Because he was going to win, one way or another.

The prince idly ran his fingers through his blonde curls, and tossed them over his shoulder, behind his back.

"Oh, you're a funny one.

We're going where I say we're going. I'm sure your ship is charming, truly, but I must be returning home before I'm missed."

His tone remained lighthearted, but with a hint of warning.