Chapter Text
Nikandros waited in a small receiving hall, once the fort of Ravenel was secured, once Makedon's men had joined the rest. It was unbelievable, that Damianos should have been its commander. Unbelievable, too, that he should live. Aimeric entered the room, and moved to curl against Nikandros's side. Nikandros had not seen him since he had first witnessed the child-pet of the Regent. Aimeric looked up at him, with something close to fear in his eyes, and Nikandros leaned in to kiss him. "You did well. You... you should find Jord." He knew that there could be anger in the confrontation coming.
Aimeric moved to leave, but was stopped by the door opening. He knelt. So, too, did Nikandros, bowing his head. Damianos walked in, flanked by the child-pet Nicaise, who was sticking close to what safety he had found. Nikandros could not allow himself to think on the horrors the boy had faced.
"The fort is yours, my King."
There was silence, for a moment. The difference in rank between them was a gulf that Nikandros feared would not be closed. The rule of the Akielon royalty was absolute. There was no place there for friendship.
"Rise, old friend."
He stood, slowly, the movement feeling foreign. "I thought you dead. I have mourned your passing. I lit the ekthanos, and made the long walk at dawn when I thought you gone." He looked up, met his friend's gaze. "Damianos, what happened to you?"
He was aware of the presence of Megal, of her nuzzling at Alithia in a desperate attempt at comfort. He longed to run to her, to throw his arms around her shoulders, and yet he held back. Thanks to Aimeric, he was aware of how sometimes touching a daemon could not be the right answer, for all he longed to give that comfort.
"You were right about Kastor." That was the only explanation that his King offered. Nikandros heard himself speak, of Kastor being crowned at the Kingsmeet. Of Damianos's own funeral, the rumours of how he had fallen. He saw Damen's anguish at the explanation of the death of his guard, of his household, his slaves and servants and squires. The chaos that had followed. The crowning. And from his pocket, he drew Prince Laurent's letter, his offer.
"There were questions," Nikandros explained. "But for every question Kastor had an answer. He was the King's son. And you were dead. There was no one left to rally behind." He set out the loyalty that had been sworn. They spoke in Akielon. Aimeric stayed silent a distance away. Nikandros could feel the tug of Alithia's concern, but did not look, yet, at what bothered her.
"The south belongs to Kastor," the King said in steady understanding.
"The north is loyal." Nikandros answered.
"And if I call on you to fight?"
"Then we fight, together." He reached into his clothing, withdrew the pin that he had kept despite the risks, for the comfort it brought, the truth it represented. "This is yours. I have kept it. A foolish token. I knew it was treason. I wanted to remember you by it. Your friend is a fool and courts treason for a keepsake." He pressed the pin to Damen's hand.
"You are too quick to pledge yourself to me."
"You are my King."
There was a severity to Damen's face, an awkward pain as he reached for Nikandros's shoulder. He looked alone. Abandoned.
"You look like a wall tapestry," Nikandros told him, reaching out for the sleeve that was velvet and fastened by garnets. He froze. Because beneath that sleeve there was gold. Not a bracelet, like the boy-pet was playing with. A cuff.
He went to jerk away, but Damen held him in place. He stared. There was a cuff. He glanced to Alithia, saw that while there were no cuffs at Megal's wrists, her paws had been mutilated. Someone had declawed the king's daemon. Someone had fastened slave cuffs about his wrists.
Damen spoke softly, firmly. "Yes. Kastor made me a slave. Laurent freed me. He gave me command of his fort and his troops, an act of trust for an Akielon he had no reason to elevate. He doesn't know who I am."
The words seemed to be spoken in a foreign language, unbelievable. Incomprehensible. He was aware of Alithia moving, guiding Aimeric towards the boy-pet, Megal flanking her. He couldn't pay attention to that, to the sensations she was sending, because his focus was on that thick ring of gold.
"The Prince of Vere freed you? You have been his slave?" He couldn't - he'd... to imagine Damen being treated that way... he had no doubt in his mind of what the cuffs signified. What had happened. He remembered what Jord had said, about the man he had struck. The comments from Torveld about the Prince's slave who had been injured, who had saved Erasmus and the rest. The way Torveld and Erasmus had spoken of him, it meant... The King of Akielos had been - "You have served the Prince of Vere as a slave?" He pulled from Damen's grasp as Damen turned.
They were not alone. There was Makedon, and the commander Straton, and two soldiers. They were loyal men. Horror was across the faces of them all. The cuff was still visible. They all shared Nikandros's disgust and fury at what this meant.
Damen - the King of Akielos - pushed his sleeve up. "Does it shock you? I was a personal gift to the Prince of Vere." In the background, the child-pet was standing behind Aimeric, who had a hand on his dagger, as though he could have any hope of defending the boy from the fury of the Akielon army.
Nikandros turned to Makedon, to the men. "You will not speak of this. You will never speak of this outside this room-" he could ensure that safety at least. He would do Damen the decency of hiding his secret, protecting him. The horror was... they would hide it. The secret would not be known.
"No." Damen said calmly. "It can't be hidden."
The soldiers were staring at the floor. Makedon looked sick. Straton was disgusted. Nikandros's mind whirred. He could still hear Jord's words. The Prince had him strike a slave. His lover had struck the King of Akielos. And he had introduced them, and Damen had offered his hand.
Makedon stepped forwards, sickness becoming anger, disgust. He was not the kind of man who would accept weakness. Megal growled low at his boar daemon, still guarding Aimeric and the boy Nicaise. "You were the Prince's slave?"
"Yes."
"You-" Makedon could not ask it. It was unaskable.
The King flushed. "You dare ask that."
"You are our King. This is an insult to Akielos that cannot be borne." There was fury there. The boy was trembling. Aimeric was holding Nicaise's hand with one hand, the other ready to draw his weaponry. Makedon would cut him down. Makedon's men had recently destroyed a Veretian village in revenge. This would be worse.
"You will bear it, as I have borne it." Damianos said, his voice strong, meeting the general's gaze without fear. "Or do you think yourself above your King?"
There was a moment where Nikandros thought he would have lost control of his general. The insult was too great. In doing such a thing to the King, it had been done to them all.
"If this becomes common knowledge, I cannot guarantee I will be able to control the actions of the men," Nikandros told him, as calmly and controlled as he could. Makedon stepped back, but the disgust was still visible.
"It is common knowledge." Damen answered, his head high. Nikandros realised the truth of it. That the soldiers here - the Veretian soldiers would know. The child Nicaise knew. And Prince Laurent would have planned for this. Torveld of Patras, and his lover Erasmus. This was knowledge that had spread throughout the kingdoms, and Akielos was the last to know.
"What would you have us do?"
"Make your pledge." Damen's voice rang out. "And in the morning, if you are mine, gather the men to fight."
Nikandros went to his knees first, gazing up at his king. "I, Nikandros of Delpha, pledge myself, my loyalty, and my men into your service, King Damianos. We will fight for you, wherever you lead us." Behind him, he heard Makedon kneel, and echo the words. Straton too.
King Damianos had his army. He would have his revenge for the cruelties that had been visited upon him. The King acknowledged their pledges, and Aimeric walked to Nikandros's side, escorted by Alithia as Megal shepherded the boy towards Damen with tenderness. She remained a fierce fighter despite her maimed paws. The boy had a hand on her back, and was afraid.
"You needn't be frightened, Nicaise," Damen told him, in Veretian.
"I'm not afraid," the boy whispered.
Nikandros bowed to his king. "I will ready everything."
"We ride at dawn."
Jord was glad to be reunited with the Prince’s Guard, even if they were now on opposite sides. It felt like being home. They were laughing, talking together under the eyes of Akielon warriors. Huet raised an eyebrow at Jord.
“You’re in a skirt.”
“I remember you wearing a lady’s hat,” Jord answered, and Huet wrapped his arms around him, and they laughed. There were stories of what had happened since he had left. Prince Laurent had kept things interesting, the way he always did. Hearing it all was hard to comprehend - the Akielon attack on a Veretian town the most startling part of it, because those were men he knew. He thought of Isander disturbing them to tell them that Pallas had returned, and realised that was preceding the attack in question - Makedon’s men had carried out the violence once Pallas had departed for Marlas.
Aimeric knocked on the door to the room the soldiers were being held in, and smiled at Jord. “I’ve been speaking with the staff. As long as everything remains calm, they are willing to stay peaceful. They know my father.”
Jord walked over to Aimeric, seeing the slight tension to him. “They know you, Aimeric. If they didn’t think you were trustworthy, I doubt Councillor Guion’s influence would hold much sway.”
“Oh.” Aimeric ducked his head. “We will depart in the morning, for Charcy. Nikandros is setting everything in place for us. We are to meet Prince Laurent at the field. Will…” He glanced at Jord. “You… will you ride with us?”
“Yes.” Jord answered immediately, without considering it. “Have you spoken to Lazar?”
“I think he and Pallas have found a quiet corner,” Aimeric answered with a smile. “But yes. They will be riding with us to meet the Prince.”
“You’re traitors,” Rochert muttered. “All of Akielos-”
“We are here at the Prince’s request,” Aimeric answered, shoulders back proudly, head tilted up, the same way that Sophia’s was. “And Tarasis was attacked first.”
“I missed how you would pick fights with the other soldiers,” Jord told him, making some of the tension between them dissipate.
“We’re arranging for food to be brought,” Aimeric told the Veretian soldiers. “And once we have met with the Prince, we will come back for you. Jord, Nikandros wishes to speak with you.”
“Duty calls,” Jord told the men, ignoring the whistling and jeering that followed him as he left. When they were alone, Aimeric paused and looked up at him. Jord raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I… wondered if you might wish to join Nikandros and me tonight? We have been given guest rooms near to the King’s.” Aimeric licked his lips nervously, a faint blush on his face. “It’s your choice of course, but-”
“Of course,” Jord smiled. “I… when you have… or I mean… I am not saying you do intend to be intimate, just that if afterwards you wanted to fetch me-”
“I want you there to be intimate with,” Aimeric answered, arms looped around his shoulders. Aimeric’s kisses were still sweet, but there was a heat in his gaze. “I… if that’s something you would like?”
“I would,” Jord told him. “I would… really be honoured. But… does Nikandros wish to see me? He knows I struck…” Jord’s voice trailed off. He knew that Akielos did not tolerate threats aimed towards their royalty.
“He wishes to see you,” Aimeric promised, taking his hand again and pulling him up towards a room. “And I really want you to fuck me in a bed. I fear we may be in tents for a while after tonight.”
Jord laughed, but let Aimeric drag him along. The bedroom they had been given was large, with vivid red drapes on the bed, on the walls. Aimeric’s smile suddenly seemed much less real. On his shoulder, Sophia was hissing, her teeth bared.
Jord looked between Aimeric and the bed. It was the red that was causing this effect on him and his daemon. He thought of the Court, decked in the Regent’s colours, the brilliant red that he had come to accept on the chest of the Regent’s Guard, on the walls and flags of Arles. He was sure similar red would be found in Fortaine, in the rooms that the Regent used. Jord stepped before Aimeric, kissed him softly, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Wait in the corridor.”
Aimeric wordlessly obeyed. Jord considered. The tapestries were easy to unhook from the wall, sent to lie in a pile on the floor. The drapes too could be undone, and shoved into a chest at the foot of the bed. Some of the undersheets were white, so he stripped the bed back to expose those. There were no blankets he could use, but he would be able to send a servant to fetch some, and he was sure that between the three of them the bed would be warm enough to sleep. Once the room was ready, he walked back out, to find Aimeric waiting for him.
“Aimeric?” Jord smiled at him. “If this isn’t… we can find somewhere else.”
“No.” Aimeric lifted his head, that stubbornness back as he strode into the room. Jord could see the moment he relaxed, seeing the changes that Jord had managed. Jord embraced him, and Aimeric leaned in to kiss him. Jord began to undress Aimeric, helping him from his jacket, then relocating to the bed, kissing him softly, exploring him through his clothes and waiting until he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. There was a knock, and the door swung open. Nikandros stood there.
He paused for a moment in the doorway, staring at the two of them. “Am I intruding?”
“No,” Aimeric answered, sitting up and holding his arms out. “You should come and join in.”
Nikandros shook his head, but he didn’t seem to actually be objecting. He walked over towards them, pressing a kiss to Aimeric’s lips, then one to Jord’s. Aimeric reached for the fastening of Nikandros’s cloak, and Jord stared between them, scarce able to believe he was welcomed here.
Aimeric looked between his husband, and Jord, and felt certainty. His earlier panic, at seeing those red sheets, was gone. Jord had taken that fear away. Between them, these two men had taken away his fears. He felt safe with them. Slightly hesitant, simply at the practicalities of such things, but he trusted them.
He was not prepared for the tender way Nikandros looked at him, as he ran his hands over his arms and chest. “Is there any way in particular you wish for tonight to go?” Nikandros asked, and Aimeric realised they’d listen. This was up to him. He shook his head. “I want both of you.”
“That might be a little ambitious for tonight,” Jord muttered, earning a scandalised smile from Nikandros, who kissed Aimeric gently.
“You’ve already had me,” Nikandros reasoned, stroking his hair. “And I am sure there will be more chance in the future for such things-”
“Kyros,” Jord said, with a slight smirk, “would you like to fuck me?”
Nikandros swore briefly in Akielon, but nodded in his agreement, and Aimeric found the two of them undressing him with care, kissing at his skin and at his lips. Nikandros took his cock into his mouth, only for Jord to kiss down Aimeric’s body, Nikandros relinquishing his prize so that Jord could take over, as Nikandros opened him with his fingers.
Aimeric lost himself to the sensation, to murmured praise in Akielon and Veretian, to gentle touches and teasing kisses. It had never felt like this before, never been so intense, so intoxicating and all-surrounding. He heard himself cry out in bliss as Jord pressed into him, felt the thrusts of Nikandros’s hips carrying the movement through into Jord. Aimeric had never imagined it could feel like this.
Afterwards, there were kisses, and he was held between the two of them. Nikandros found a cloth to clean them, and then pulled him close. He felt safe. He felt like he was where he belonged, Jord and Nikandros’s arms crossing across his chest. He could see Alithia and Hilda before the fire, Sophia nestled between them. He was not afraid. There would be more time for this, but tonight they would need to be ready to ride at dawn, and so he closed his eyes.
He was asleep in a Veretian fort, but no nightmares came, the bodies of his lovers shielding him from those bad memories, at least for this night.
Servants woke them as the sky grew grey. Jord helped him to dress, and Nikandros headed to meet with his commanders. Aimeric and Jord headed down once they were ready, Aimeric eating an orange and offering Jord slices of it. They paused in the doorway, gazing out at the sea of red, before Jord led him forwards to find his horse.
The Akielon force was immense, and Aimeric knew he belonged among it. He recognised the faces of some of the men and women, and they were fighting for their King, and for Prince Laurent. They would be striking down the man he had once thought of as his lover, his everything. Aimeric was ready for that.
He saw the King, in Akielon armour. At one wrist was a cuff like Isander's. The army fell silent, as the King addressed them. He understood enough Akielon to follow the message - this was the King, come to fight for them. Tarasis would be revenged. So too would be the betrayal of the last King’s ‘death’ and what had followed it.
A deafening roar filled the air, led by the King's daemon, and joined by the warriors of Akielos, and their daemons - the howl of wolves, roars, snarls, and shouts, spear butts hitting the ground. The King mounted his horse. The horns sounded. The standards rose.
And across the courtyard rode a small group of Veretians. The blue of the Prince's guard that Aimeric had once belonged to. Jord's friends. They had come as well. One of the men, Rochert, spoke to the King. Only around twenty of them. But they were here.
Here was the army of Akielos, and the Prince's Guard. Aimeric looked around him. Beside him, on one side, was his husband Nikandros, Kyros of Delpha. On the other was Jord, once leader of the Prince's guard, now his lover. He would not fail them. Their horses were close enough that he could reach out, squeeze both of their hands at once.
The King looked ahead, his gaze focused. "We ride, for Akielos, and for Vere."