Sub Rosa -- Under the Rose

Note: Currently, no notes for now, save for the references to Shakespeare’s historical plays (like Richard the III for example).
And shuffleboard doesn’t mean the game you find on cruise ships with a triangle painted on the ground. It’s older slang referring to tabletop gambling.
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Acacia: Friendship, Secret Love, and Chaste Love.

Or:

“Heart that hid from the Mind”

***

“Ha! Henry, the buck broke into those bushes! Let’s follow after it!” The blonde young man chorused as he urged his gelded bay onwards through the forests of Yorkshire, with the amethyst-eyed young man rearing his black mare into action as well.

“Careful Joseph! We mustn’t wandered too far!” Henry shouted over the baying of their sturdy hounds, as they crashed through the underbrush, following the dogs to where the wounded stag may lie. Their third companion, a robustious man by the man of Flastaff whipped the Clydesdale into action.

“What’s to be afraid of? We know these woods!” Joseph yelled back over the pounding of the hooves, as plant life made way for the noble and the prince.

The two young men were friends since they were able to talk, and had often snuck away from official affairs to amuse themselves with jests and idling games, with hunting and falconry being their favorite sports. And their “guardian” Flastaff hardly helped in training the noblemen into proper court behavior with his often drunken demeanor and penchant for shuffleboard.

“Well, well, that’ll be some fine venison we’ll get, strong buck isn’t he, might quick and nimble he is even with one of Joseph’s dart in its flank.” Flastaff laughed as they come upon a point where the thickets were so overgrown that they can no longer travel on horseback. “I’ll watch these brutes, you go find your stag and hounds.” The dark-hd mad man waved them on.

“Of course, for the gluttonous and the slovenly old bag would have to stay, there’s no way you can keep up with such spry youth!” Joseph teased as he leapt off the bay, crossbow in hand, and quiver slung on his back.

“Let’s hurry Joseph, we’ll lose the hounds!” Henry shouted as he darted off into the dark forest, sword at hip and dagger drawn.

“Good luck, Harry and Jo!” The middle-aged knight chortled as he pulled a flask from his pouch. “Welcome aboard, mistress rum.” He toasted the air and then took a swig of the stinging beverage.

“Henry! I hear the hounds, this way!” The blonde shouted over the bay of the canines, as he leapt and darted over and through the underbrush, while his more diminutive friend tried to follow frantically.

In a clearing, five mastiffs had herded the wounded animal against a corpse of dense trees, which left the creature no place to bolt off two. With a final effort, the thing stood it’s ground, horn lowered rd trd the ground, a hoof pawed against the earth, breath forced in and out of it’s tired lungs.

“Stand back, he’s going to try to attack us.” The count’s son murmured as he notched the bolt to the weapon. He aimed it toward the throat, for he wanted to end this as quick as possible.
“Ah!” The Prince yelped as a tawny dog was thrown aside. The great beast leapt at the humans, the rack waved in the air dangerously, the deer seemed blind to it’s own suicidal motion, for instinct had taken it’s fatal course. The Welsh tried to run, tried to jump out of the way, but his feet seemed to have been fused to the very earth. All he could do was stare in horror and shock as he mentally prayed for forgiveness for what sins he may have committed and not yet confessed.

THUMP!

The leaves and thistle crunched loudly as the violet-eyed youth vision took in amber eyes instead of an enraged creature. Slow but sure, Henry Tudor’s mind fitted the pieces together, to supply him with the narrative of the last few seconds.

The stag charged……… the hounds leapt upon the magnificent creature……… crossbow felled to the ground……… Joseph pulled him under.

Their ragged, adrenaline-harried breaths were drawn quick and uneven, the triumph howls and wounded yowls silent in their ears as they just watched each other with large and spooked eyes. The tip of their noses just barely brushed against together, breath mingled, their hearts pounded loudly in their head from the rush of fear and excitement the mishap created.

“Thank……… you……… I believe……… you saved me.” Henry groaned out, as he squirmed somewhat uncomfortably under his friend as he felt his face threatened to turn scarlet. There was just something about this that seemed to be unnatural, and……… almost sinful about this.

“Aye, eer……… welcome.” The nobleman muttered slowly as he hesitantly lifted elf elf up from his companion’s body, his cheeks took on a delicate shell-pink hue.

“Harry! Jo! What ya taking so long?” The fat knight shouted from a short distance. He had grew impatient, he knew that normally it did not take long for the two hunters to take a stag down. Then he started to grow concern about the fact. Did they get lost, or captured by rogue bandits? Or perhaps the beast gave up a fight? He gulped, he is sure to lose his head if either the Count’s Son or the Prince were to be harmed, and he’ll lose it twice if both ended up dead. He wobbled and pushed himself off the log, his mass of flesh warbled at the force used to pull himself off from the ground.

The youths slowly scrambled to their feet upon hearing the middle-age man yelled for them. The blonde and tricolor-haired nobles paused to look at each other, as if they were about to speak, but was suddenly struck mute.

After an infinity of silence, the Prince shattered it with a hoaand and shaky voice.

“Let us go back, for we worried Flastaff too much.”

Not another word was breathed between the two friends.