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Chapter Text

Despite the thick stone walls of the fort, sounds of battle from outside still seeped through. Shouts, cries, the shrieks of horses, the pain of dying men, each sound sending a chill deeper and deeper into Laurent’s core. Auguste told him to stay here in the fort at Marlas, where he’d be safe. Laurent could still feel the gentle caress of a strand of hair being tucked behind his ear before his older brother left to ride into battle. It was the last he saw his brother before he was left alone in this room, cut off from all that was happening down below. The last piece of information Laurent had somehow managed to glean was nearly an hour old, that Auguste had become engaged in one-on-one combat with Prince Damianos of Akielos. It wasn’t exactly the most soothing piece of news for one to hear considering the rumored combat prowess of the enemy.

The slam of a door somewhere down the hall startled any further anxious reverie. Laurent turned his head away from the window he didn’t realize he’d been glued to, watching to see if someone was coming to him. After a few suffocating seconds of nothing, he slowly rose to his feet and crept to the door. Pressing an ear to its grainy wood texture, Laurent listened. Someone seemed to be grumbling and reporting from the field, maybe taking a break from fighting themselves. Not a lot could be heard, until finally–

“King Aleron is dead.” And between more indecipherable words, “...an hour…”

‘An hour for what? Father, dead?’ Laurent felt like he stopped breathing. A storm of thoughts swirled in his mind as the revelation settled in. His father is dead. He didn’t know how, or why, or even when. It’s not that Laurent had the closest relationship with his father, even felt neglected and hated most of the time, but it was still a shock. He peeled himself off the door, shakily backing up into the center of the room. With a thick, painful swallow, Laurent turned back and plastered himself to the window. He tried seeing outside, tried peering onto the battlefield as if an answer could be found there.

“Laurie…” the voice behind him rasp and cautious. Laurent spun around, wanting to cry in relief and horror.

“Auguste!” he sobbed. His brother was alive and standing in the room with him. Laurent scrambled over, flinging himself into Auguste’s much larger frame. “Don’t leave me again! I was so scared! I heard you were fighting the Akielon prince alone and I was so scared you’d get hurt!”

Laurent heard Auguste laugh faintly, feeling firm arms wrap around him. With all the emotions of the moment simmering down, he became aware of his brother’s appearance. The once pristine, glistening armor was bent and battered. The shield was beaten to hell and back, starburst insignia on the front nearly warped to be unrecognizable. Most noticeable was all the mud and blood.

“You’re… not hurt, are you?” The question came out weary and shaky. Laurent looked up, trying to meet his brother’s eyes. Auguste gave a gentle smile, bending down to bring their faces level.

“No, just worn out,” Auguste said, his voice reflecting the very truth of the statement. “A lot has happened, Laurie. I wish I had time to stand here and explain everything to you. I want to just lay down and forget this whole thing.” His older brother sighed, seemingly taking a moment to let the weight of what comes next sink in. “But I can’t. Father is dead. A soldier came forward claiming Uncle paid him to do it. I– there’s a lot that needs to happen. I got the Akielons to agree to hold off for an hour. Time has already passed. I’ll come back for you, I promise. I just needed to see you to let you know I’m okay before I need to step out once more. Just stay here Laurie, alright?”

Before Laurent could protest, Auguste had already stood back up and swept out the door. ‘Akielos giving them an hour.’ ‘Uncle plotted to kill Father.’ Laurent blinked. Somehow, having all this information now felt much worse than getting snippets from soldiers moving around the fort. He stood there, staring at the door as if doing so would bring Auguste right back inside to safety with him. When that didn’t work, he gently rubbed his temples to try and make sense of everything happening. Even then, Laurent couldn’t seem to grasp the fact their father, the king, was dead and that allegedly uncle was behind it. No, it just didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be.

Laurent finally pulled himself together, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs. He was shaking. How could he not notice how badly he was shaking? With a difficult breath and nervous stumble, Laurent tugged open the door and paused. Two guards were there, both of them recognizable from Auguste’s Prince’s Guard. The one on the right looked down, his lip quirking and making his bushy mustache lift in an expressive manner.

“Your highness, is there anything you need?”

Laurent swallowed. “I want to find Auguste,” he said, taking a determined step forward. The simple action was quickly thwarted.

“We’re sorry, your highness, but we are under orders from Prince Auguste to keep you inside.” The guard on the left nodded in agreement to the words of the silly mustached one on the right.

Of course . Laurent sighed and turned back into the room. Of course his older brother would set up security to keep him safe. But he was almost fourteen, for heaven's sake! They’d all already dragged him down to the front at Marlas, so why now be so adamant on keeping him locked up like fine jewels? Laurent needed to think. He had to find Auguste. He didn’t want to imagine the horrible possibilities of the hour running out and the Akielon barbarians advancing on them once more. He barely registered the click of his own boots clattering on the stone floor as Laurent paced. Finally, an idea came to fruition.

Laurent went to the door once more, peering out at the guards. “Would you two be able to escort me down to the kitchens? I feel faint, so perhaps leaving the room and getting something to eat will help.” The guards glanced at one another, both clearly assessing how much trouble they could possibly get in if even a simple trip still within the walls of the fort was off limits.

The guard on the right made his decision, clearing his throat, “But of course. Stay close, your highness. It would be troublesome should something happen to you.” Success . 

Laurent sheepishly followed the two guards out of the room and down the hall. He kept up the innocent, nervous, fragile appearance so they truly believed he needed air and food. Once they approached the lower levels, the chaos of the situation grew more apparent. Laurent carefully eyed the exhausted men hustling and bustling about. Everyone looked so worn and exhausted, like they could barely hold up a sword should they have to take one up once more. He keenly listened to conversation, catching snippets of his father’s death, Uncle’s supposed treachery, and Auguste going to negotiate with the Akielons–

That last bit gave him pause. Of course Auguste, heir to the throne of Vere, would make efforts to negotiate and find some grounds for peace. It made the most sense in war to try and take the least bloody way out. Still, it made Laurent incredibly nervous. All he knew is that father’s herald had gone to the Akielons some time earlier and things seemed to have worsened after. He had no clue what had been said or done but Laurent felt that it may tarnish the ability to be civil now. The only conclusion Laurent’s mind came to, and the churning coiling pit of nerves in his stomach, was that Auguste is in danger.

The two guards were still moving ever so slightly ahead of him. Laurent bit his lip. He glanced out an open doorway. It leads out to the courtyard, a chaotic mess of weapons, men, servants, and horses. Laurent stopped. Perfect . Careful not to give himself away, he skipped forward to stay caught up to his escort. The guards were clueless. Auguste would probably scold the absolute life out of them later for this, but Laurent could hardly care. Finding an opening, he bolted.

Quick as he may be, even with the stealth he believed he possessed, Prince Laurent sprinting out of the fort heading straight for an unmanned horse isn’t something to be easily ignored. The two guards already noticed and were giving chase. Others were also called to attention from the commotion and commands. If Laurent wasn’t currently fretting over Auguste’s life, he’d probably find this rather exhilarating. Maybe it’ll make a funny story later should they walk out of this with their lives.

Without a single second to spare, Laurent leapt onto the horse and dug his heels into her flank. She jerked with a start, turning in the direction Laurent needed. Least he could do was peer over his shoulder and offer, “Sorry!” as he steered the horse out of the fort and towards the Akielon lines.

Only the beginning of the ride had most obstacles. Once Laurent got past the main Veretian forces near their lines, he had a clear shot to his target. It was a gamble, but he was banking on the men not giving chase. A group of Veretian soldiers speeding towards Akielon encampment during a one hour truce wouldn’t look very good for them. 

The battlefield of Marlas was a gruesome sight. Even when everything was passing his vision in blurs, Laurent could still see the ground riddled with bodies, banners, horses, weapons, and all. He definitely didn’t want to think too hard about it later. The sky itself was a muddy gray. It made the whole place dull and feel of suffocating death. Laurent bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his throat as dread crept up his spine.

He soon reached the Akielon camp. Outriders and soldiers cried out in their hurried, foreign language as Laurent sped past them like a bat out of hell. The royal tent had to be where any negotiations would take place. It had to be in the center, it made the most sense. Laurent pressed forward, the strict, geometric lines of Akielon tents going by in a suggestion of shape from how quick he passed. That’s when he saw it. Auguste’s horse was outside the tent dead ahead of him. Did he make it in time? Was his older brother okay?

Laurent didn’t have time to think, nor did he have consideration for the guards stationed outside the tent. With a twist of his body and duck of his head, he was in. Laurent didn’t even bother to take full inventory before crying out, “Auguste!”

Auguste looked up from where he’d been facing the table amidst the center of the tent. His eyes were wide, genuinely shocked and quite frankly concerned. “L-Laurie?!” Laurent didn’t care. He dove forward and clung to Auguste like his life depended on it. He’s alive. His older brother is alive and hadn’t been skewered to death by the Akielons.

The rough clearing of a throat finally got Laurent to look up from where his face had been pressed to the side of Auguste’s breastplate. Three big, intimidating Akielons were staring down at him. Seated in the center had to be King Theomedes. He wore the laurels after all. There was that look to him, of a man who could command respect and loyalty. Even with age, his features were sharp and kingly. Laurent’s eyes then drifted to Theomedes’ right. The man who stood there looked equally unfriendly. He looked no older than thirty, perhaps just on the cusp. It was undoubtedly Kastor, the bastard prince. He had Theomedes’ glare, lips drawn into a thin, distasteful line. That only left–

Laurent’s gaze moved to the one standing most directly in front of him, the man on Theomedes’ left. Youthful, tall, built like a damn ox. It had to be Damianos. Who else? Damianos looked right back at him, eyes wide and curious unlike the displeasured scowls from his kin. Laurent took note of the bandaging on his left shoulder. Did Auguste land a hit on him or had he procured the wound elsewhere?

Theomedes cleared his throat again. This seemed to snap Auguste from his stupor. Laurent watched in surprise as his brother proceeded to speak in Akielon to the royals seated across from him. While it was far from perfect fluency, it was still better than what Laurent would have assumed. Had Auguste been teaching himself or learning from somewhere? Regardless, it was clear he wasn’t about to be privy to any of the discussion unfolding before him.

Laurent understood he was intruding on important negotiations, so he just sighed and opted to stay silent at Auguste’s side. He must’ve been making a confused expression trying to listen because moments later, in perfect Veretian, a soothing voice spoke–

“He is returning Delpha in exchange for a truce. The ultimate goal is hopefully peace between our countries, but otherwise you can ease your mind for now.” It was Damianos. He was speaking to Laurent like he was some kind of frightened foal. Well… maybe he was. Regardless of that, Laurent found himself actually calming from that alone. They were safe. This meant–

“So the fighting stops? The battle here, it’s all over?” Laurent didn’t mean for it to come out sounding like a meek little child, but it did. Of course this just made Damianos smile and nod. Curse this giant animal of a man and his gentle smile.

“That’s the plan, yes,” Damianos affirmed. He glanced at Theomedes and Kastor still conversing with Auguste. “The battle is done. We’ve agreed the Veretians will be given a fortnight to spread the word and allow citizens to move if they do not wish to fall under Akielon rule.”

Laurent blinked. ‘It’s over? Like that?’ They were even willing to grant a fortnight to the Veretians to leave the land. Seemed generous, considering everything that happened. Laurent glanced over as Auguste straightened up, a hand firmly clasping his shoulder. Someone came over, producing two documents for both parties to look over. With each side satisfied, Auguste and Theomedes both signed, then shook hands. How amusing. Must be a show of diplomacy considering the mildly disgusted look Theomedes wore as he subtly brushed his hand on his cape.

Still, such a formal gesture and their body language meant impending departure. Before turning to leave the tent, Laurent glanced at Damianos once more, eyeing the bound wound. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh!” Damianos looked down and laughed. He has a dimple in his left cheek. “Ah, barely feel it. After all, not my first time getting run through.” Laurent swore, from the corner of his eye, Kastor very subtly twitched at the remark.

But now it was time to leave. They did their proper farewells, before stepping outside. Laurent was so out of it that he was startled to feel Auguste jab at him as they were halfway back to the fort. “Laurie! Are you out of your mind?!” Ah, so he hadn’t escaped scolding. “If I hadn’t managed to pacify them and you came charging over like that, who knows what would have happened!” 

Laurent parted his lips to apologize, but Auguste raised a hand to silence him. His brother was truly tired, all the lines of his body stiff and the bags under his eyes growing by the second. He tried again when the hand was lowered for a moment, “So… you’re king now?”

Auguste let out a weak laugh, “We got a lot ahead of us, Laurie.” His gaze rose to the fort looming in front of them and the gathered men watched with anticipation for the news. “Things are about to be very different.”

Chapter Text

Auguste had been right about things being very different after that. The weeks that followed the surrender of Marlas would be written in history for the scandal-fest that rose from it all.

Auguste was due to ascend the throne now that Father was gone. Yet before that, he’d stubbornly insisted on having a trial. For who? None other than Uncle. They had still needed to uncover the supposed plot to kill Father and the rumored promised pay off to the archer and his family for doing so. The highest trained guards kept watch on the man who made the confession as he was kept in a cell and to be transported back to Arles. After negotiations and on their retreat from Delfeur, numerous others, beyond the supposed soldier bribed to kill the King, started coming forward with claims against Uncle as well. It all had to be sorted out, which brought forth the trial.

Laurent himself had been in attendance. He had sat with trepidation, feet swinging below him as he watched everything unfold. Uncle was a good talker, he always was. The man knew when to be charismatic and persuasive. Auguste had looked incredibly exhausted presiding over the whole spectacle along with the council. Even then, there were a few strong testimonies and proofs. Each bit of information felt like a dagger digging deeper into Laurent’s gut as he watched people progressively incriminate the man he called family standing proudly on the dais. 

The trial had been wrapping up, most convinced of the treachery to kill King Aleron even though a few councilors looked doubtful. It was all until a soldier had come forward with things he’d found in Uncle’s room. There was a journal. The soldier began to read a few select passages aloud while also letting Auguste and the council see it. The passages contained… detailed descriptions of Uncle’s fantasies and boys he favored. Laurent didn’t understand it very well, the desire and deprivation that was laid bare for all to see. Auguste had already been getting progressively uncomfortable with Laurent’s presence considering the ages of the boys being described until the soldier had nervously cleared his throat.

“I know the council has turned a blind eye to these activities thus far, seeing the laws were changed to accommodate these… proclivities. But, I brought forward this as evidence of treachery and unsoundness within the accused’s mind because… there are multiple passages of these vulgar fantasies written where the subject is none other than Prince Laurent himself. And… these date back to nearly three years ago.”

The last thing Laurent had remembered witnessing was the shocked cries of attendees and Auguste going pale, violently snatching the journal from the soldier to read for himself. The hall had been in total uproar and Laurent was whisked away to his rooms. What he heard later was that Uncle was charged with treachery and sentenced to death, even hearing that Auguste had executed him himself.

Everything else after that had been a sort of blur. Auguste’s ascension, the whirlwind of changing laws, adjustments to new routines, all of it. Maybe Laurent would have paid more attention if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by the confusing thoughts plaguing him since the trial.

‘Uncle thought of me like… like that.’ Laurent thought as he looked out the window of his new room. He’d been given Auguste’s room as his brother now moved to the King’s chambers. The room was slightly bigger than his old one, yet the change didn’t have any positive impact on his currently unsettled state. Laurent stared hollowly out at the gardens below before a metallic, iron taste assaulted his mouth. He spat. There was blood, he’d chewed his lower lip raw without realizing it.  

The door creaked open as Auguste entered the room. He looked a bit worn out, probably having sat through more draining council meetings. Laurent eyed him as his brother shuffled over, collapsing on the window seat across from him.

“I think I could sleep for a week, maybe even a month,” Auguste groaned, raising his head to peer at Laurent with a weary, lopsided grin. Laurent tried offering a smile in return, only that he probably didn’t make a very convincing expression as Auguste paled and sat up. “What happened to your lip, Laurie?” Ah, right.

“Oh, I–” Laurent started, failing to make a reasonable excuse other than the truth. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Auguste. Uncle’s journal.” His hands wrung nervously in his lap, a strange, sick feeling rising in his throat. “Did– was there something I’ve done to… make him think that?”

Auguste looked even more concerned and sickened than when he noticed the bleeding lip. “Laurent, no! No, no there is nothing you, or any young boy could do to earn that sort of depravity from someone’s mind!” Auguste had used his name rather than the usual, endearing nickname, meaning that he was incredibly serious and wished for his words to be taken to heart. “He was… sick, Laurent. Only a sick mind could do such horrible things. You are not responsible for someone’s depraved thoughts. I– you shouldn’t have been in the room to even hear that such things were written in the first place.” 

Laurent didn’t realize he’d started crying till Auguste thumbed away his tears and pulled him into a hug. Everything had been so overwhelming recently that it reached its boiling point. In the comforting embrace of his older brother’s arms, he fell apart. Laurent cried, allowing the dam of emotions to break as their new reality settled over them.

“I-it’s all so much, Auguste… Maman gone.. Father gone–” Laurent’s words hitched on a gasp and another sob, “and now you’re king. You’re so busy and you always look so tired. A-and– What if the Akielons go back on their word and want more than Delfeur! I don’t want to lose you too! I don’t want to be alone, Auggie!” He couldn’t stop the nickname he’d used during childhood from slipping in this moment of overwhelmed emotion.

They’re the only family either has left, Auguste now king, and they had a whole new dynamic to navigate. Laurent thought he was going to drown until the fingers gently carding through his hair seemed to strip all heavy thoughts with each pass. Auguste was holding him, stroking his hair as his soothing singing voice cut through all the noise simmering in Laurent’s head. 

À la claire fontaine

M’en allant promener

J’ai trouvé l’eau si belle

Que je m’y suis baigné

A few weeks had passed since then. Laurent had begun to feel better, adjusting to his new position as the Crown Prince. It wasn’t much different from what he was used to, except now he had a few more duties piled on. Of course Auguste wasn’t going to drown him in too much just yet, but he did sneak in lessons in kingship. Laurent didn’t understand why until it was explained that doing so was a safety precaution should anything untimely happen to Auguste, being that he’s now first in line with his brother on the throne. 

Laurent let out a sigh, slumping in the chair he sat in the palace library. He’d been doing lessons for over an hour now. “This is just as miserable as you described when we were younger…” he said to no one in particular, seeing that he was alone and Auguste was elsewhere doing kingly duties. Laurent stared at the ceiling, lips pursed as he cataloged the details of every curve and twist of carved ornamentation. He leaned back like that till his neck felt tight, finally sitting back up and looking at the scrolls piled before him. One of them was written in Akielon. Auguste had suggested, with the growing efforts to secure an alliance, that they both learn to properly speak the language. Laurent’s brows furrowed as he stared at the writing. Some letters made sense while others looked more like symbols. Just as he started mulling over how long he could put off lessons in Akielon, he suddenly remembered a smooth voice with an Akielon accent speaking to him in perfect Veretian. Damianos .

Laurent flushed, then grasped his cheeks wondering why he was getting flustered at such a thing. “ Merde ,” he silently cursed, standing up and bustling out of the library. Right now would be a really good time to go out for a ride and relax. On his way down to the stables, he passed some staff muttering and gossiping. Laurent nearly twisted his ankle skidding to a halt when he heard them mention the Akielon delegation coming in three days' time. ‘ What?! Auguste said nothing of this! ’

Trying to decide between going for that ride or strangling his brother, Laurent opted for the latter. He reeled around, quickly making his way to find the big oaf. 

It didn’t take long, thankfully. Auguste was out in the training yard with his guard, wearing just his fine white undershirt and sword at his hip. He was grinning and speaking to a man Laurent recognized as Elouan, when he stomped up and yanked Auguste down to eye level.

“When were you going to tell me the Akielons are visiting in three days?! As Crown Prince, it’s important to be informed on such matters!” Laurent made sure he at least looked somewhat refined while scolding his older brother. Last thing he wants is to still be viewed as a child in front of all these men when he was now Crown Prince and needed to be more responsible.

Auguste blinked at him, before sheepishly replaying, “Forgive me, frère chéri, it seems to have slipped my mind. I’m so used to you being reserved and preferring to avoid guests.”

Laurent went red at the response. He let Auguste go, folding his arms and staring down at the fine black leather of his boots. “Still! Avoiding guests or not, I’d need to know when they arrive.” 

“You’re right,” Auguste sighed, ruffling his hair and reaching for his jacket which hung on a nearby bench. “I must stop underestimating our dear Crowned Prince. The Akielon delegation does arrive in three days. The ambassador they’re sending is Prince Damianos. He’ll be accompanied by the Kyros of Delpha and a few others necessary to the party. Those two are the most important of course.”

Laurent didn’t know why hearing that Damianos was coming made him feel light and funny. He only met the man once, in a not very casual situation. Biting his lip, Laurent followed Auguste back into the palace. “Is the visit to further discussions on an alliance?” his voice sounding a bit small and childish as he asked.

Auguste hummed in response, nodding his head, “Yes, and to hopefully start some trade as well.” They walked side by side all the way up to the King’s chambers. Auguste dismissed the staff with a graceful flick of his wrist, flopping on the cushioned bench at the foot of his bed. “I am,” Auguste started but paused to collect himself, “admittedly a bit nervous. I know the past ninety years have been a bit sour between our countries, and some of Father’s choices weren’t the kindest. Now I question how many of those choices were whisperings from Uncle!” He grunted, face in hands. “I just… don’t want to mess this up.”

Laurent pouted, sitting beside his brother. He offered a soothing rub to the back, feeling the taut tension of muscle. “You’ve already done so much in the time you’ve been king. I’ve seen how at ease the people are with your choices so far. They trust you.” Laurent then met Auguste’s eyes, smiling as warm and genuinely as he could offer, “I trust you. You won’t mess this up.”

Auguste stared at him for a long moment with a proud, loving smile. Before anything else could be said, Laurent found himself in a bear hug having his hair violently tussled into a nest that would impress any bird. “Auggie! Let go, you beast!” They laughed and horsed around like that for a couple more minutes till Laurent finally freed himself, collapsing to the patterned rug in a heaving, dazed mess.

“You’re the most precious brother in the world, Laurie,” Auguste said with a sing-song tune to his voice. “And that is why I trust your humblest opinion.” Laurent watched as he walked over to the large armoire in the corner of the room. “Now, tell me,” his brother began, digging amongst the racks of fine clothing, “How do I look in the color purple?” Auguste spun around, holding a royal purple jacket up to his frame. It was rather garish, having too much going on and an unnecessary amount of gold embellishment. Laurent raised a hand to his mouth to hide his look of judgement and the snorts threatening to spill out.

The day came of the arrival of the Akielon delegation. Customary to Veretian protocol, Auguste and Laurent stood at the front steps to greet their guests. Thanking the heavens, Auguste wasn’t wearing the atrocious purple getup. He was dressed like a king but in his favored blues, which admittedly looked much better on him. Laurent was dressed in similar shades, wearing a more simple, princely outfit. He felt the weight of the circlet resting on his head, a new one being given to him as he grew older.

The herald cleared his throat, announcing the arrival of Prince Damianos and his retinue. The people of Arles stood by, watching in awe and maybe a bit of trepidation. Laurent straightened up, watching the figures walk up the steps towards them. Last Laurent saw Damianos, the man was worn from fighting, covered in mud and blood, wearing his armor. The man walking up the steps now was a much different picture. Dark brown curls sat perfectly soft atop his head, no longer matted down like before. Olive skin looked warm and near bronze in the sunlight, showing off the definition of muscle beneath. A short chiton wrapped his body with a red draping fabric over one shoulder. And there was that grin that gave a twinkle to those haunting brown eyes and defined that damned dimple.

Putain. This is going to be a long week.

Chapter Text

Laurent stared at the two Akielon men towering over him, then glanced to his right at Auguste. He was suddenly feeling very small and very young in comparison. With a subtle roll of his shoulders and a tilt of the chin, Laurent made himself feel a little bit taller. They all did their proper obeisances, till the alleged Kyros was introduced.

“This is Nikandros, Kyros of Delpha. He is a long time friend of mine and one of my most trusted companions.” Damianos gestured to the man beside him. Nikandros was reasonably attractive. He appeared similar in age to Damianos, meaning he was a young man. To achieve the position of Kyros must be an honor. Laurent took in the stern features Nikandros wore, the subtle furrow of his brow and slight downward twist to his lips. His hair went down to his shoulder blades, braided back in neat fashion. He seemed pleasant. 

Auguste gave a bright grin at the introduction, “A pleasure to meet you. I look forward to building a positive relationship.” He turned, gesturing with a swoop of his arm for the party to enter the palace. They walked along, Auguste and Damianos side by side already in cheerful discussion. Laurent couldn’t help but roll his eyes, finding he was correct to assume his brother and the prince of their now allied nation would be fast friends. The chuckle beside him was surprising.

“Damianos is always quick to judge character and make acquaintances with those he deems honorable,” Nikandros said, in rather steady Veretian. He glanced down at Laurent with a critical eye. “So you’re the one brazen enough to ride into enemy territory because he was worried about his brother?”

Laurent could hardly hide his scoff, “I don’t see why that’s such a surprising thing to do. I wasn’t exactly riding in wielding a sword killing as I did so.” That earned a considerable hum from Nikandros.

 “I was more interested in the fact you were even in Marlas. You’re thirteen, are you not?”

“Yes, almost fourteen. I thought I was allowed to go because I’m grown up. But–” Laurent paused, eyeing the two men still happily engaged in conversation walking in front of them, “it seems there was a deeper plot to my presence there that day that I hadn’t anticipated.”

Thankfully Nikandros left it at that. The Akielon delegation were to be shown to their rooms before a lunch would be held. Laurent took the opportunity to slip away. As determined as he was to take up more responsibility, he still found company exhausting. Hopefully he could catch a bit of time to read before he was expected to sit and mingle with foreign royalty.

The lunch had gone well, and after that everyone was dismissed to do their own things. More official talks would be held over the next few days during dinners or private meetings. Laurent sat in the bower of one of the more private courtyard gardens. The late noon sun gave the perfect atmosphere to read outdoors, just warm enough with spring warmth to be comfortable but not unbearable. Leaning back on the cold metal of the curved bench, Laurent thumbed over the page of his book. He didn’t notice the hulking figure that had entered the courtyard.

“Studying Akielon? Mn, would be a bit easier to have someone fluent help, would it not?”

Laurent practically shrieked as he slammed the book shut and lurched forward. Damn Damianos had snuck up behind him. “You– make yourself known, you brute!” His face was red as he peered up at the stupidly innocent expression the Akielon prince wore.

“Forgive me. I greeted you as I approached,” Damianos said, sheepishly rubbing his arm as he realized he hadn’t been heard. “I assumed you were just pretending to ignore me. May I sit?” He gestured to the spot beside Laurent.

Laurent blushed, chewing his lip and giving a nod. “I’ve only had three days worth of studying so far. I’m surprised Auguste even knew the amount of Akielon he did when negotiating with you in Marlas.”

Damianos sat beside him, already looking out of place against the delicate ornamentation of the bench. “He understood the political importance of speaking your enemy’s language. My guess is he only started to learn it within the past few years based on his ability.” Laurent nodded at the assessment. Learning a foreign language wasn’t particularly easy, and lacking real life communication with it could be a hindrance.

“If you wish to teach me now, I’ll allow it,” Laurent said in a passive, dignified tone. “But I won’t otherwise take up your time here in Arles with such trivial matters.”

Damianos snorted, then covered his mouth like that would hide it. “Quite the way of speaking, your highness. Very dignified.” The damn brute had a teasing tone and an aggravatingly smug grin. Laurent already regretted his decision. He chucked the book at Damianos.

“Get to it.”

They had ended up huddled together in the bower of the garden for a few hours, Damianos teaching Laurent the basics and fundamentals of the Akielon language. He was a patient teacher, taking time to lay out grammar and pronunciation. Sure, there were a few times he’d make a jab at Laurent's mispronunciations or the ways his Veretian accent mixed in, but it was otherwise rather charming. Laurent hadn’t even noticed how much time passed till staff had come to retrieve them for dinner.

Thankfully, dinner wasn’t an elaborate gathering like lunch had been. It was just the four of them, Laurent, Auguste, Damianos, and Nikandros. Normally there’d be more guests, courtiers, and so on, but Auguste requested a more intimate atmosphere. Laurent on the other hand knew his brother too well, recognizing the fact he just didn’t want to keep socializing with more people than necessary. Not that he was complaining either, seeing that Laurent also preferred lighter company. 

Conversation flowed lightly, topics ranging from cultural inquiries to training techniques. Once they’d landed on that topic, Laurent started zoning out. He wasn’t exactly skilled in the art of combat like Auguste was. Where Auguste was a natural born leader, charming and strong, Laurent was secluded and bookish. He much more preferred horseback riding and knowledge over exerting himself in the training yard. A nudge to his shoulder snapped his focus back to the present.

“I heard you’ll be fourteen soon, when is your birthday?” Laurent blinked up at Damianos who’d asked the question. He looked relaxed, almost more youthful as he eyed Laurent.

“Oh, yes,” Laurent started, pulling himself back into reality. “It’s two months from today.”

Damianos hummed in response, giving a curt nod. “And what do you wish for?”

“I–” What did he want? Laurent never usually thought of it. Mother and Auguste always knew what to get him so he never needed to ask. He had a whole library of books at his disposal, a horse, fine clothing, anything he could need really. “I don’t know. A gift isn’t something I’ve ever considered too much.” 

“That’s alright,” Damianos said. “We princes have everything, do we not?” There was that charming, dimpled grin again. Laurent stared at it. He didn’t understand this weird effect Damianos was having on him. It’s like everything the man did and said was ensnaring Laurent in some hidden trap that would only seal his fate the closer he got.

“Mn,” was the only thing Laurent could manage to reply with.

The next few days were more business than socialization. Yet, each day at the same time, Laurent and Damianos met in that same courtyard to study Akielon. Each lesson was more relaxed than the last, more banter and tease being thrown around between them as they grew comfortable with one another.

That’s why Laurent was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment when Damianos couldn’t meet him today. Turns out, Auguste wanted to spar with him and Nikandros in the training yard. Well, how could Laurent pass up an opportunity for a show when his tutor had been so rudely whisked away? There was absolutely no other reason he wanted to watch, none.

Laurent sat himself in the cutout of a stone archway that lined the training yard perimeter. His current book sat on his lap so he could feign reading. It had started sometime within the past year, but Laurent found himself very inclined to watch the guards train. When he’d told Auguste, his older brother laughed it off and said his infatuation with the muscled bodies of the men was a phase he’d grow out of. Yes, a phase.

Damianos had to be a god from Akielon myth. With spring starting to warm, the sun beat down enough to encourage an exerted man to remove his shirt. All Laurent could do was stare helplessly at the godly chiseled torso of the man facing off against his brother. Damianos must have a million women lined up vying for a chance to be his bride. Even Nikandros looked good too. What is it with Akielons and their need to be as bare as possible? Just when Laurent thought he couldn’t swoon any harder, Damianos caught him staring and winked. He’s done for. He’s so completely and utterly done for.

The trance didn’t break as prince and king faced off. They were like equals, strength meeting strength, blades screeching together as they clashed and parried. Auguste and Damianos must be either incredibly confident or incredibly stupid to be sparring with their actual swords. Perhaps it was confidence, seeing they’ve already survived facing off on the battlefield. Laurent watched with keen interest at the fighting style of the Akielons. It was– aggressive wasn’t the word– but swift and powerful. Each move had purpose and force of will behind it. He wondered how hard Damianos must’ve trained to fight the way he did with that precision and fluidity. They met each other’s blade every time, moving like it was a dance. As they fought, Laurent’s mind drifted to what it would’ve been like at Marlas when they were both giving it their all. The thought didn’t stay long, seeing that the current picture unfolding before him was much more enticing. It all came to a satisfying climax as Auguste was disarmed. Usually, Laurent would spit at anyone who bested his brother. But… he could make some exceptions. 

“Laurie! I didn’t see you get here!” Auguste’s worn yet cheerful voice broke the illusion. Laurent looked up, blinking like a dazed foal trying to right itself on wobbly legs.

“Oh, I was just– well you know–” he was stumbling and making a fool of himself. Laurent cleared his throat, patting the book in his lap. “I just had to see how Akielos’ champion of a prince fights. How embarrassing of you, Auguste, getting disarmed so quickly.” Turning his fluster around by insulting his brother usually worked.

Auguste snorted, but Nikandros surprisingly spoke up instead. “Oh really? Do you fight, your highness?” 

“Absolutely not!” Ah, it seems Auguste found his voice now. “He doesn’t have an ounce of–”

“I can try,” Laurent cut Auguste off as he stood and gracefully walked onto the training field. “I’ve sparred a few times with Auguste, I’m not some green soldier who hasn’t touched a sword in his life.” Yes, he’s fought his older brother using real swords, but time always tells the tale that, just like that time racing horses when he was nine, Auguste went easy on Laurent and purposefully let him win. So, considering that, Laurent picked up a wooden sword and tossed one to Nikandros. “I accept your offer.”

Nikandros smirked, catching the sword effortlessly and playfully tossing it hand to hand before settling into stance. “You were watching rather intensely earlier, so I pray you picked up some technique.”

Laurent huffed, tilting his chin up before going at it. To say he had his ass royally handed to him would be an understatement. Nikandros took him down in seconds, swiftly and efficiently disarming him and sending Laurent stumbling back onto his rump. Auguste looked concerned and murderous while Damianos was trying to stifle a laugh with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Damianos moved first, helping Laurent to his feet.

“In all honesty, your highness,” he started with a grin, “there’s a lot of room for improvement.” 

Laurent simply pouted, quickly freeing his hand from Damianos’ grasp and looking away to hide his blush. “Oh? Very well. I will train till I can best you all with my eyes closed.” The declaration earned a hum of approval from Damianos, a snort from Nikandros, and a proud look from Auguste. Satisfied, Laurent sauntered off before the remaining shreds of his dignity would be stomped by those three buffoons. 

The week of the Akielon visit came to an end. They stood at the palace steps once more, this time saying their farewells to the delegation. For some reason, Laurent felt a pang of disappointment at not getting to spend more impromptu language lessons with Damianos. He ignored the fancy goodbyes and pleasantries until it was his turn. Looking up at that grinning face and damned dimple made Laurent tense with some unknown emotion.

Damianos looked warm and affectionate, “I’ll miss our Akielon lessons, your highness.”

Before he could even stop himself or think of what he was saying, Laurent blurted, “I’ll write to you!”

There was a brief silence between everyone. Damianos was momentarily stunned, before his grin grew brighter than the sun. “I look forward to your correspondence.”

Laurent didn’t actually write anything till a month later. He wanted to write in Akielon to practice the language and show his willingness to establish friendship between their nations. He needed the month to study the language more. At this point, his understanding was adequate enough. If Laurent had to sub in a few words or sentences with Veretian, well, it would only be Damianos reading it, so who would care? With a pen, ink, paper, and an orange to snack on, Laurent wrote. 

To You, Who I Once Called an Enemy,

If I was told months ago that Vere and Akielos were forming an alliance, and their two youngest princes would form a comfortable bond, I’d laugh in their face. I was terrified that day at Marlas. Everything was chaotic and suddenly my own family became an enemy. I admit, your kindness to me during negotiations was greatly appreciated. I was even more stunned at your willingness to sit and teach me your language. Vere has a lot of change shaking her very foundation as Auguste has taken the throne and sought to right any centuries old wrongs. Your generosity and allyship is vital, as vulnerable as it is to admit that. Should you turn against us, you will find that I will hold true to my promise to become strong enough to beat you.

Sincerely, 

Laurent R.

The response to his letter came a couple weeks later, a small wrapped parcel with it.

Dearest Little Green Foal,

I am a man of honor and my loyalty runs deep. From my week in Vere, I firmly believe an alliance is worth maintaining and that King Auguste is someone worthy of maintaining it for. I won’t speak ill of the late King Aleron, but the foundations Vere now rests on are sturdier than what he set. I know my own father is a man of tradition and sits stewing in his set ways, but I am not afraid to vouch for Vere. I was delighted to find a brotherly camaraderie in Auguste, and a passion for knowledge in you. I do hope our correspondence isn’t limited to this one exchange. You are a delight, Prince Laurent. And of course I could not forget your birthday. This letter should arrive within the week, so happy birthday, your highness.

Best Regards, 

Damianos V.

Laurent opened the neatly wrapped parcel. Inside was a book, the title The Artesian Empire . His eyes widened. Little documentation was intact from the old kingdom of Artes. A big, warm smile bloomed on Laurent’s face as he scrambled to immediately pen his response.

Chapter Text

My Poorly Clad Warrior,

I do wonder if your people substitute thigh muscles for armor. Are you so confident in those tree trunk legs of yours that a weapon will simply bounce off it? I digress. Studying up on Akielon culture has certainly kept me entertained during the boring meetings I’ve been sitting in on. The duties of Crown Prince are clearly meant to syphon the soul out of a living being so they feel nothing once reaching the throne. I pity you and Auguste, having had experiences in such long before I. The lessons exhaust me too. I have a speech tutor as well, I didn’t realize I needed lessons in eloquence. Do you think they’re paying off?

Yours Truly,

Laurent R.

To Vere’s Most Eloquent Linguist,

I admire your effort to translate lessons in speaking formally to what you’ve learned in Akielon language. You improve fast, certainly living up to your competitive nature Auguste has spoken of. I do look forward to our next meeting so I can hear your eloquence myself. But to answer your scathing remarks on Akielon armor, no, our thighs are not made of steel. Our training in fighting technique and use of shields usually give assurance in the safety of exposed areas. I myself cannot fathom Veretian armor. Just how many layers are there and is it possible to put it on by oneself? But if our armor works for us, and yours for you, then what is there to remark on? Do keep sharing your opinions, I enjoy the opposition it brings to what has long been normal for me.

Steel Thighed Warrior,

Damianos V.

Dearest Dimpled Princling,

I was delighted to hear from Auguste that King Theomedes and he signed an official alliance. He tells of the Kingsmeet and how I must see it someday. I trust I’ll be invited on a trip to Akielos soon, but I’m not exactly thrilled. See, fine skin like mine is not meant for the scorching sun. I also refuse to wear those bedsheets you call clothes. They look so exposing. Auguste said he wore one and I’m quite thankful I was not there to see it. Ah, but I should thank you for yet another birthday gift. I thought last year was a one time thing out of politeness, so I was surprised when a gift arrived with your letter this year. The broach is lovely, I’ll make sure to care for it.

Your Favorite Debate Partner,

Laurent R.

Your Dazzling Highness,

I am truly grateful to see an official alliance go through. I know over the past year there was peace, but it alleviates all unease to see a formal declaration of alliance. Auguste’s company was splendid, although I missed your presence. I understand why you could not join, but I do hope you can put aside your distaste for the chiton and make a trip soon. I’d love to show you the Kingsmeet, the palace in Ios, the cliffs, practically everything there is to see that is too much to list. I’m glad you liked your gift. Just know, Laurent, that I’ll send one every year since it’s a way of expressing my friendship and gratitude.

Your Newest Partner in Alliance,

Damianos V.

My Beloved Giant Animal,

Each day I grow more confident in my ability to best you in a duel. Prideful as I am, I can admit I have respect for you and your physical prowess. Since that poor excuse for a spar I suffered at the hands of Nikandros two years ago, I’ve been diligently training. At the beginning, it felt like my arms were going to fall off. It is tough work, but I’ve now bested several of Auguste’s guards, including Jord, who is one of his best. At least my body displays muscle rather elegantly, I’d hate to be the size of a building like you. Count your days, Damianos, for I will first send Nikandros in the dirt, then you and your cursed dimple.

Always Watch Your Back,

Laurent R.

Future Assassin of the Akielon Crown Prince,

It excites me that your training is paying off. You know well that I look forward to sparring, and ultimately dueling with you. Last year, Auguste did mention your training, but it is fun to hear it from you. I remember the burn and strain my body went through when I started training. I thought I was going to die and lay next to Nikandros pleading he tell Father and Kastor I love them so. Looking back, I was certainly dramatic. But that’s a tale I can regale to you in person. Upon the arrival of your letter, came the news of a diplomatic trip to Akielos. I’m excited to see you and Auguste again. I promise we won’t force you to wear a chiton. I’m sure you notice this letter arrived with no gift. The gift for your sixteenth will be one gifted in person. 

Your Royal Gift Giver,

Damianos V.

Laurent smiled at the letter beside himself. So, Damianos would gift him once more? That’s three gifts now, how utterly embarrassing. Well, not entirely. Laurent has gifted Damianos on his birthday…once.

A knock came to his door and Laurent gently folded the piece of parchment. He tucked it in the drawer nearest to his bed, where the many other letters were kept with care. The lingering scent of paper and something earthy coated his fingers as he walked out from the bedchamber. “Yes, yes, I’m coming!”

Laurent hurried to the door and slipped his way out. Auguste was waiting just outside, dressed in light riding clothes and looking rather smug. “If we wait any longer, our time frame to make it to the port will be jeopardized. Surely your letters to Damen aren’t that infatuating?” While his brother was going for the tease, all Laurent heard was the name.

“Damen?”

Auguste blinked. Once he understood, he smiled and started walking down the hall with his hand on Lauren’t back. “Yes, Damen. On my last trip he suggested I call him that since it’s a nickname those close to him use. Have you still been using Damianos this whole time?” The question wasn’t meant to be insulting, rather genuine curiosity. “You’ve exchanged hundreds of letters by now.”

“Hundreds is a dramatic overestimation,” Laurent muttered and rolled his eyes. They descended the steps to the courtyard where the party waited to head out. “Maybe twenty or so is more accurate. Besides that, Damianos and I have only met face to face twice. Perhaps I don’t have the honor yet to call him ‘Damen’.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll let him breach the subject himself,” Auguste said, ruffling his hair and moving off to mount his horse. The horse in question was a stunning white bay gelding, Auguste’s pride and joy, named Anatole. Laurent liked Anatole, considering several of his lessons in horseback were with him. Not spending too long to admire the creature, as much as he liked to, Laurent went to his own horse, a grey bay mare named Cosette. Cosette huffed and nuzzled into his touch when he lovingly petted her nose. Oh how Laurent loved Cosette. She was, after all, his first horse and the one Auguste helped break in.

The party moved out once everyone was mounted and ready. They were making for Chastillon, then several other keeps and estates down to the port in Marches. The journey would take several days, but it was faster than riding the entire length from Arles to Ios.

Laurent pretty much zoned out most of the ride. He would occasionally chat with Auguste riding by his side, but he preferred to let his mind wander while feeling the gentle breeze in his hair. Alas, once they were within reasonable distance of Chastillon, Laurent turned to Auguste with a smirk, “Race you.”

“Hey– Not fair, Laurie!” Auguste sputtered behind him as he took off to catch up. Laurent laughed, enjoying the exhilaration of racing Cosette down the sprawling hills towards the tower looming on the horizon. This race he will win on his own fastest pony and not the grace of an older brother’s restraint.

The journey was close to a week in length, from the ride from palace to port, all the way down to Ios. Laurent wasn’t exactly one for travel by ship, not enjoying the swaying and rolling that nearly nauseated him. But they were on land now. Blinking to adjust to the bright noon sun, Laurent took in his first impression of Ios. 

Ios was stunning at first sight. White cliffs lined the shores, crystal blue waves lulling and crashing against them. Smooth, boxy white structures scattered the terrace which only illuminated the brightness of the city. And then there was the palace. From the port below, it was already this long, massive structure with colonnades, tiled roofs, and sculpted facades. But there was one glaring issue. It was hot.

Laurent squirmed and tugged at his collar as the Veretian delegation were being led up to the palace. Auguste glanced down at him and chuckled, “I told you to wear something lighter. Surely there will be some chitons at our disposal if you’d like to change.”

“I am not going to wear one of those ,” Laurent said, shivering at the mere thought. That only earned him an amused chuckle.

“Fine. But, you may be more comfortable wearing a vest than a jacket.”

“I’ll consider it.” Usually Laurent didn’t like admitting when someone else was right, but Auguste had a point about comfortable attire. 

They were led into the palace and down long breezy walkways till entering a grand hall. Inside waited Theomedes, Kastor, and Damianos. Laurent and Auguste approached, doing proper obeisances before having a more casual greeting. Damianos embraced Auguste like a brother, and Laurent would be happy to greet his two year long pen pal if it weren’t for what caught his eye. Prostrated on the floor by the Akielon royalty were slaves. Laurent felt himself freeze. Of course he knew Akielos had slaves, but seeing it still made him uneasy.

Damianos was in front of him, “Laurent, are you alright?” He had that careful and genuine look to him that Laurent remembered from those couple years ago. It nearly made the situation more nauseating and agitating.

“Ah, yes. I’m fine,” he cleared his throat politely and waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll have to forgive me. Travel by ship has made me a bit lightheaded and I must’ve forgotten myself for a moment.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Damianos, who now wore his smile once more and proceeded to chat with Auguste. Of course the answer wasn’t going to get past his brother, as Auguste shot Laurent a few questioning glances when he could. Under Auguste’s rule, Vere had only recently banned slavery and reworked the laws of having pets. Considering that, Laurent took a breath and reminded himself this wasn’t his place to interfere as Akielos didn’t need to answer to his personal feelings.

Thankfully, the Veretian delegation was shown their rooms. Laurent would bask in any opportunity to get away from situations that made his skin crawl. Once the staff had brought everything in and left, he examined the room. It was much simpler than the decor and architecture in Vere. The walls were smooth marble, few rugs and tapestries in bold primaries here and there, and pottery and plants scattered about. Laurent was making his way to the balcony when the door opened, spinning to see who dared intrude.

Damianos stood there with a coy smile and hands behind his back. “Have a moment, your highness?” he asked playfully, letting himself further into the room. Of course he would, he’s the Crown Prince of Akielos and this is his turf after all.

“I suppose my time depends on you as the host,” Laurent answered with a curious raise of his brow. He remembered Damianos was going to give him his sixteenth birthday gift during his time in Akielos. With the approval, Damianos came right up to Laurent and held forward whatever he’d been hiding. From his hands unfurled a sky blue chiton, the longer kind that covered both shoulders. Laurent immediately frowned, “I’m going to kill Auguste.”

A deep and hearty laugh came from Damianos, who set the preposterous piece of clothing down and shook his head. “He’d said you’d react like that. Even the full length garment doesn’t get your approval?”

Laurent could only roll his eyes at that, wanting to remove the offensive article from his sight. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to take my time disposing of this before the evening entertainment.”

“No, that wasn’t all,” Damianos’ voice softer as he approached and held out a small box usually meant for jewelry. Laurent cautiously took it, quirking a brow once more. When he opened it, he was surprised to see an intricate gold circlet with small laurel leaves woven in. It was like a mix of the headdress he personally preferred and that of Akielon royalty.

Laurent held it in silence. He wasn’t expecting a gift of this caliber. “Don’t think this forgives your sin of the chiton.”

Damianos laughed again, “Very well.” He walked forward, smiling warmly with that agitating dimple. Damianos was already a hulking man, but so close to Laurent he felt impossibly larger. “Happy birthday, Laurent.”

The words were so genuine and tender Laurent felt himself sway. The last encounter with the Akielon prince hadn’t been this… confusing. Collecting himself, Laurent set the circlet back in its box and rested it with his other belongings. He dismissed Damianos without another word, watching the man leave the room before collapsing in a heap of fluster and confusion.

It wasn’t until two days later that Laurent found some time to himself, wandering the palace grounds of Ios. The sun beat down with an incessant rage, causing Laurent to pause often in whatever shade he could find. He really wasn’t made for this climate, knowing his nose has already burned a rose pink. Few people passed him, usually palace guards or the occasional servant. Whenever Laurent passed a slave, the person would practically go boneless and fall to the ground in prostration. The act was unnerving, forcing Laurent to look away and move along as quickly as possible.

After aimless wandering, his quiet promenade came to a pause. Laurent was in one of the more lavish gardens, full of flowers he’d never seen and a scent that made him wonder if it could be perfumed. A statue stood over everything, the carved woman looking like she was the guardian of this space. Laurent found himself drawing closer in curiosity, the downsized scale of the statue making her appear only three or so feet tall. The carved woman had the kindest looking eyes, even if they were just stone. Her smile was warm and loving, sending a sense of ease through the onlooker. Tilting his head, Laurent carefully reached forward and brushed his knuckle over the carved apple of her cheek.

“Egeria, my mother.”

Violently wrenching away from the statue, Laurent stumbled and lost his footing. Just before he could fall ass first into a poor bed of flowers, a hand swooped around his waist. Damianos looked down at him with wide eyes.

“You–!! How many times will you sneak up on me?!” Laurent was not liking how this was seemingly a budding occurrence. And of course Damianos had to look bashful.

“Ah, sorry Laurent. I forget you have a habit of getting lost in things,” Damianos offered his award winning smile once more.

Laurent huffed, “Yes, apparently my ability to have my attention captured to the point of a giant brute being able to sneak up on me is quite annoying.” Slowly, he freed himself from the large hand still grasping his waist. Growing up was quite unfortunate because now Laurent found his mind getting fuzzy over the simplest of things. Best hurry and refocus. “Your mother, you say?”

The cursed ray of sunshine Damianos just chuckled at him, seemingly amused by whatever reaction Laurent thought he hid. “Mhm. I never got to know her, of course, since it was my birth that brought her end. Many say that I’m just like her though.” Laurent watched as Damianos drew up to the statue and tilted his head. Looking between man and statue, he saw a resemblance in the kind eyes and gentle smile. “Her line goes back to King Agathon, the first King of Akielos,” Damianos said with pride, a glimmer in his eyes.

“Well aren’t you something special? The golden prince Damianos, born of Akielos’ most prominent line,” Laurent hummed, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Damen.”

“Hm?”

“Just call me Damen.” The casualness and honesty made something even warmer bloom than the sunburn currently spreading Laurent’s cheeks. It was a nickname used by many, and yet it felt like something special between just the two of them standing here in the garden.

Chapter Text

It would’ve been a good trip. The time spent in Akielos truly learning their culture would have been perfect if it weren’t for that last day. Right now, Laurent was draped in the window seat of his room back in Arles, staring at the circlet Damen had gifted him. He hurt, the reason both well known and stranger to him at the same time. They’d been getting along. They’d been laughing and spending time together. It all went wrong that last day.

It had been a painfully hot day. Against all his better sensibilities, Laurent finally decided to wear the chiton he’d been gifted. Dressed in the airy blue garment and circlet, he’d gone to search for Damen. He knew where the Crown Prince’s room was, making his way like he owned the palace in Ios. Whatever warm, prideful feeling Laurent had that day vanished when he waltzed into the room and found Damen tangled up with a slave. She was pale and blonde. Laurent had froze, the joyous pair pausing in alarm at disruption. 

It had led to a fight. Later that evening, in the guest room Laurent stayed, Damen had sought him out as if to casually pick up the discussion they didn’t have earlier. The whole trip, Laurent had tried so very desperately to not let his personal feelings spill in that moment, but it could not be held back anymore.

He remembers the stupidly casual air to Damen as he spoke, “You’re bothered about Lykaios? I assure you, her and all the others’ comfort and health are important to us all.”

Oh how that had made Laurent rage. “Oh? You think it’s okay because you don’t hit or torment them? Let me tell you something, Damianos. Your people have somehow managed to train the will out of man. Congratulations!”

“Laurent, it’s not–”

“No!” Laurent had snapped, not having wanted to hear whatever misguided excuse the man before him had. “Don’t you realize? You trained their will away! They cannot tell you no! They have to do everything you tell them because that’s all they know to do! You are no saint just because your slaves aren’t treated the way they were in old Vere or other nations! Cuddle and kiss them all you want, but they are no longer a person with autonomy!”

Laurent didn’t remember Damen’s response. He’d fled to the room Auguste stayed, not leaving until the Veretian delegation departed Akielos the next day.

And now it all caught up to him. Laurent hastily wiped the tear from his eye when the door opened. Auguste walked in, a sympathetic smile on his face as he came to sit. They were quiet for a moment, his brother wringing his hands nervously before finally saying something.

“How are you feeling, Laurie?” Auguste’s tone was low and careful, feeling out for the unpredictable moods Laurent had been developing over the years.

“I’m feeling,” he said, unable to put a label on just what those feelings are.

Auguste sighed lightly, rubbing Laurent’s shoulder in that heavy, grounding assurance he always provided. “Are you worried this ruins your friendship with Damen?”

“Friends? Is that what he and I are?” That response only made Auguste frown. Now it was Laurent’s turn to sigh. “I don’t want it to. He’s– Damen is one of the few people who seem genuinely fond of me. I thought that’s only because he got to know me through letters, but the time spent in Akielos showed that he truly enjoyed being around me. For so long, others have been put off by my affinity for books and sitting in peaceful silence. Not him. Not Damen.” The feelings were growing overwhelming now. 

Auguste, being the best older brother this world could offer, knew what Laurent needed and pulled him into a hug. Fingers slowly carded through Laurent’s hair, taking all dark thoughts with them. “You care so much for others, Laurie. I don’t blame you for being upset.” He sighed, taking a moment to choose his next words. “Akielos is a difficult situation. You saw the effort it took to ban slavery here and change laws on pets. It’s no easy process. I too wish for things to change, but it is heavily ingrained in their culture and history. Change takes time. I don’t want what you’ve built with Damen to fall apart over something that he doesn’t understand from an outside perspective.”

Laurent slowly nodded. Auguste was right, this wasn’t something he could throw a fit about and expect sympathy. Nuzzling closer to his brother, Laurent murmured, “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“Write to him. I doubt Damen is that easy to get rid of.”

Smiling, Laurent sat up to properly hug Auguste. Feeling better, he sent his brother off and stood. Writing was perfect. That way, Laurent could express himself with planned perfection to make sure he said exactly what he wanted to in the way he wanted to.

Damen,

I simply wish to get to the point, writing to you to express what I couldn’t when my emotions got the best of me. I understand our cultures and minds are very different. To lash out at you like I did was admittedly cruel. I don’t want to lose our correspondence. I see you as a dear friend, an ally, and it would pain me for that all to go away. I also hope my actions have not offended the rest of your household. If I jeopardized the alliance, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Respond when you feel it’s right, or maybe not at all, but know I do not hate you.

Yours Truly,

Laurent R.

Laurent read over the letter numerous times until the lines began to blur. Was it too little? Was it too much? This was a serious matter to him that he didn’t want to mess up any further than he already had. Finally satisfied, Laurent sealed the letter with the signet he kept tucked in his jacket, bringing the envelope to the messenger and watching the man ride away out of sight.

The response came about four weeks later.

Laurent,

While I struggle to understand your exact perspective, I can see why it upset you nonetheless. I won’t let this ruin what we have. I’m your friend, Laurent, always will be. This is something I’m willing to discuss further with you at a more neutral location. Do not feel the need to make that decision too quickly, of course. I’m glad to have heard from you first, I was too afraid to write in case you never wanted to see my face again. Also, apologies if this is out of line, but you did look stunning in the chiton and circlet.

Sincerely,

Damen V.

The last line caused pause. Laurent read over it once, twice, then indefinitely. As he’s grown older, compliments on his beauty were no stranger to Laurent. He had gotten used to the recent influx of suitors begging to court him. But this, a simple compliment from Damen was enough to make him dizzy.

Flustered and confused, Laurent stood up and bustled to Auguste’s room. His brother was currently lounging on one of the larger couches in his sitting area. Many papers were scattered before him, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation and subtle shadows forming under his eyes.

“Auguste! I do not care whatever important legislation or not you are looking over, I need help!” Laurent demanded in his stubborn little brother voice. Auguste’s attention shot up in immediate concern at the tone.

“Mn, sure Laurie. I need a break anyway.” He just managed to scoot out of the way when Laurent collapsed beside him.

Thrusting Damen’s letter in his face, Laurent demanded, “What does he mean? ‘Look stunning’?! Is that just a normal thing to say to a friend or is he implying something?!” There was a faint panic in his voice that Laurent wasn’t too happy about. He was clearly bothered but heavens forbid he look scared.

“Well,” Auguste took the letter and gave it a once over, “seems friendly to me. Did it unsettle you the way the suitors comments do? I can tell Damen not to speak that way with you.”

“No! No…” Laurent blushed. “I just–” What was it? He came running all this way to Auguste because it obviously bothered him in some sense. It took a long moment for Laurent to find what he wanted to say. “Maybe I’m just surprised someone like him, with every woman alive vying for his hand, would think so kindly of me.” 

Auguste smiled warmly at him. Sitting up straighter, he gestured to all the papers scattered around. “Want to help me sort through all my potential brides?” A distraction? Sounded perfect. Laurent leaned closer and reviewed all the princesses, noble ladies, and such who would be perfect for his brother. It allowed hours to pass and ease his mind until they were both draped over the couch laughing and completely off topic of marriage altogether. 

Thief of Brothers,

Sneaking off with Auguste on diplomatic trips I wasn’t informed of? I never expected such behavior from you Damianos. I jest, of course, I declined the trip to Marlas as I have better things to attend to. I’m happy the alliance is well and growing stronger each day. I heard you two were discussing marriage together. I’ll have you know I am much more qualified to help Auguste pick a bride than you. I may even pick a bride for you. It must be someone who doesn’t need to crane her neck to simply speak with you. Just when I think I’ve grown, you seemingly get taller. What do they feed you Akielons as children?

Your Dearest Matchmaker, 

Laurent R.

Oh Wise One,

I’m glad our favorite type of correspondence continues once more. I trust you have an insight into matchmaking that Auguste and I have looked over. You were always skilled with the finer details in many things. As for myself, I’d rather not worry about marriage right now. I know Auguste does not have that luxury since he is king, I have a little more leeway as Crown Prince. How about for yourself, Laurent? You’re old enough to start courting, and some romantic prospects. Have any princesses or noble girls caught your eye?

Irresponsible Princeling,

Damen V.

‘Any princesses or noble girls?’ Laurent pouted as he stared at it. He’d been in the training yard when the letter arrived. His opponent, Orlant, stood by as Laurent himself casually leaned up on the stone walls of the courtyard to read. With a furrowed brow, he glanced at Orlant who was currently lifting his undershirt to wipe his face. Blue eyes then moved to a servant woman who was passing by doing her work. Princesses and noble girls – well, women in general – were definitely not on Laurent’s roster for romantic and or sexual partners. 

“Are you done reading the letters from your Akielon lover?” Orlant asked, lazily tossing his wood sword hand to hand.

Laurent looked up, setting aside the piece of paper that shared that distinct earthy smell Damen had to him. “Itching to be bested once more? Fine by me.” He approached Orlant with casual ease, picking up training with his guard. Bested wasn’t exactly accurate, as their spars were more tied than not. In the least, Laurent had been improving drastically over the years. 

It would be an understatement to say Laurent was itching to duel with Damen. Ever since that day of the Akielon diplomatic visit a few years ago, Laurent could not get his mind off the way Damen fought. The way that powerful body moved, precision and control exerted in the most beautiful manner. Laurent had never been the fighter type like Auguste, but since that fateful day it was something that always lingered in his mind.

Dueling, or training for now, with his and Auguste’s guards temporarily satisfied those fantasies. Fighting each man, learning his style, his patterns, the entire art of it was invigorating to Laurent. Oh how he loves using his mind in a fight. It was made even better seeing the beaming pride in Auguste’s eyes as he continued to improve. There was even talk of him officially joining combat training when he was eighteen, to learn to command troops and fight with them. A few years ago, Laurent would have scowled and turned down the idea. But now, now it felt exciting, a new prospect to bring him closer to Damen.

Ah, back to Damen. Laurent groaned as the minor slip up in thought caused an opening for Orlant. After being tripped up and knocked to his ass, Laurent sighed and flicked his wrist, “I think that’s enough for today. Good work.” He dismissed the men, dusting himself off and grabbing his jacket off the nearby bench.

Laurent made his way back to his room where the private baths were. The servants drew one for him, prepared everything, and left the room. Alone and with his thoughts, Laurent sunk into the warm, steaming water and closed his eyes. His muscles unwound as he sunk deeper against the tile of the bath. 

Damen was all he could think about again. Those kind eyes that betrayed everything he felt. That grin brighter than the sun, with the dimple carved into his left cheek that made him impossibly more beautiful. Even now, thinking about Damen marrying made something funny twist in Laurent’s stomach. He let it stew, let the feelings sit as he digested them.

A horrible, truly alarming realization dawned on Laurent. He was falling for Damen. No. Impossible. Laurent sank down beneath the water and screamed. This certainly could not be what was happening.

After staying in the bath till the water cooled and his skin pruned, Laurent got up and hurried to his desk. He sat, robes pooling in the chair as he whisked out pen and paper to pen a response.

Akielos’ Most Eligible Bachelor,

Bold assumption that I even think to indulge in romance at this time. I’ll let you continue to ponder it, though, as it is fun to torture you with lack of answer. But there is much to be discussed between us. I will be traveling down to Acquitart soon for a few months. While I am there, I sincerely invite you to join me. There is hunting among other things to do in the region. I look forward to your response.

Vere’s Unattainable,

Laurent R.

The weeks it took for a letter to be sent and reply returned were always the most restless. When Damen’s replay came, Laurent pretty much tore it open like a starved animal. He flew through the basic communication and pleasantries, finding exactly what response he was looking for. Damen’s acceptance of the invitation to Acquitart. A delighted smile blooms across Laurent’s lips.

Chapter Text

Usually Laurent wouldn’t be too happy about going to Acquitart without Auguste, but now that Damen would be joining him, even if temporary, he was elated. Someone new to share his little town with, to show off proudly the place he and Auguste had made their little escape, the place he was prince of without needing to be twenty one.

They had arrived in Acquitart about a week ago. The members of Laurent’s household who’d be with him over these next few months were already settled and minding their own business. Laurent himself had spent some time with the old caretaker Arnoul, sharing a few stories and casual company.

It was near winter now, the air growing cold with the crisp bite of wind causing the need to bundle up. Closer to the southern border, it wasn’t as cold as it gets in Arles, but closer to the eastern mountain border, it still had its chill. Walking out to the stables, Laurent glanced at the mountains that bordered Vask. There was already snow atop their great peaks, glistening in the light of day. 

There was still a day or two until Damen arrived. With nothing else to do, a ride sounded perfect. The air warmed a bit as he entered the stables. Laurent found Cosette, smiling as he greeted her with a press of his forehead to her muzzle, “Bon après-midi, ma douce fille.” That earned a happy whinny from her. 

To ensure Cosette was comfortable in the winter chill, Laurent made work of blanketing her before placing the saddle. He gave her plenty of pets and an overindulgence in snacks. Once satisfied with preparations, Laurent mounted and set out.

He let Cosette lead, the bay mare taking him south from Acquitart. The cool air bit at Laurent’s cheeks, but it felt good. Grassy hills, scattered trees, and granite rock faces passed as they flew along the sprawling expanse of Alier. Riding always allowed his head to clear, for Laurent to forget everything and lose himself in the feeling of flying. 

They’d crossed the southern border at some point, Laurent himself guilty of not paying attention. It wasn’t until a shout stopped him. Reeling Cosette in, Laurent looked up to see who he’d offended. It was an Akielon soldier. Whoops, guess he really rode farther than intended.

In Akielon, Laurent started to explain himself, “Ah, forgive me. I was just–” But he was interrupted by a second figure joining them.

“It’s just Vere’s Crown Prince. If I recall he’s residing in a border fort for the next few months. His presence isn’t a threat.” It was Nikandros. The Kyros rode up, dismissing what was likely an outrider. 

Nikandros looked a bit hardened since Laurent saw him last a few years ago. He had that quality of a leader, the air of a man in command. Laurent nodded in acknowledgment to him.

“I was out riding and didn’t realize I’d crossed into Delpha. Do you have a company of soldiers up here?”

Nikandros nodded, walking his horse along Laurent’s. “Border soldiers under Makedon. We keep a company up here mostly due to Vaskian raiders.”

“Are they the camps of male Vaskians?” he inquired, to which Nikandros nodded again. They were riding side by side at a leisurely pace, headed back to the border.

The rest of their little ride was casual conversation, mostly border politics, until they reached the point of separation. Nikandros wheeled his horse around to return back, not before asking, “Damianos will be joining you soon, yes?”

Laurent nodded, letting his eyes roam over the expanse of Delpha before him. “Yes. He’ll be with me in Acquitart for a fortnight. If you ever find time, you may join us.” While he didn’t know Nikandros well enough, their prior encounters and his station as Damen’s long time friend made him trustworthy company enough to extend invitation.

The offer seemed to give Nikandros pause. He looked over Laurent like he was analyzing him and wanted to say something, words stuck on the tip of his tongue. Whatever plagued the Kyros, he got over it quickly and gently shook his head.

“Thank you, your highness. I’ll consider the offer.” Nodding in acknowledgment, Nikandros turned and rode back to where the soldiers were running drills.

It was a little over a day when Damen and his retinue arrived. It was a smaller group, since Acquitart itself wasn’t very big. Laurent had waited on the front steps, Veretian protocol, smiling and embracing Damen when the Akielon prince walked up.

“Cold, are you?” a small smirk spreading on Laurent’s lips, feeling the slight tremors in that olive skin.

A hearty chuckle from Damen, the sound reverberating where their bodies embraced. “Not terribly, but this is certainly cooler than I’m used to.” He was dressed in more layers to stave the cold, but it still wasn’t close to the winter garments worn in Vere.

Laurent smiled, walking side by side into the fort of Acquitart with Damen. “Well then good thing we’re here and not in Arles. I’m afraid you’d freeze and we can’t have that. I don’t know what I’d do without my favorite correspondence.”

“How truly terrible to imagine.” Damen was looking down at him with a warm and fond gaze. Laurent felt his heart leap into his throat and cheeks heat up. “Flustered, sweetheart?”

Laurent stumbled. The endearment came out of nowhere – although he himself used it in a letter before – and nearly caused him to make a fool of himself in front of everyone. “N-no. My cheeks simply pinked from standing out in the cold waiting for you.” Well that covered the blushing, just not the embarrassing trip up. “And Acquitart is still in a state of repair. The floor will trip you up sometimes if you don’t watch out.”

Damen laughed. Of course he was laughing. He was toying with Laurent and he knew it. After fending off the playful punch to the arm, Damen continued the conversation. “You said there was hunting in Acquitart, but upon my ride up, the landscape doesn’t seem right for it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You’ll find that I prefer not to hunt and simply listed off things I assumed men like you would enjoy doing.”

“Oh? So you bribed me to come to Acquitart under the guise of masculine activity?”

Now they were both laughing. They’d made it up to the keep where their rooms were beside one another. Damen didn’t seem to mind Laurent’s lack of knowledge on “masculine” and “princely” activities. After all, they wouldn’t have kept up correspondence for a few years if they didn’t entertain one another. 

Taking the job usually assigned to household servants, Laurent showed Damen to his room. It was practically a mirror of his own, slightly more open floor plan following the style of the south, seating room with a separate bedchamber and bath, grilled windows, and so on. Thankfully the staff had already taken care of lighting the fire, which Damen seemed to happily gravitate toward. 

Laurent watched in both amusement and mild shock as Damen gracelessly plopped on the rug in front of the hearth. He patted the floor beside him expectantly, as if asking to be joined. Finally, with a defeated sigh at that puppy-like smile, Laurent sat himself down beside Damen.

That’s when the air seemed to shift, the mood dampening. “I know it’s a bit early, but there’s something I wanted to talk about.” There was hesitation and nerve in Damen’s voice as he said it.

Lightly chewing his lip, Laurent gazed at the licking flames of the fire. “I know. You’re horrible at hiding your feelings. Go on then.” 

Taking a moment to collect himself, Damen turned his gaze to the fire as well, “You were right. About Lykaios… about all the slaves.” Laurent chose to be silent and let Damen continue, able to tell it’s what he needed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so the next time I called her to my chambers, I asked if she’d do anything for me. She said yes. I asked if I told her to kneel beneath my feet, would she? Yes. If I told her to slit her throat for me, would she?... Yes.” He sounded so distressed as he said it. “I tried again and again to see if there was anything she really felt, a glimmer of her own will, but there was nothing. Then I tested the same with others as well, all the same.” Leaning forward, Damen rested his face in his hands, “So I dismissed them. I couldn’t bear to look at the slaves in my household anymore after that. Not if they can’t truly participate on their own volition.”

It was a lengthy and emotional confession. Laurent really did appreciate that Damen did this without being asked, because he was honorable and a man who cared. Reaching out, Laurent carefully carded his fingers through Damen’s hair the way Auguste would for him. 

“You didn’t need to do that. It was an emotional outburst I had back in Akielos…but–” he paused, thinking of how to continue, “it is the right step.” Damen cast a curious eye at him, a silent signal to continue. “Vere didn’t have slaves the way Akielos or Patras does. Yet there were those who’d heard of the Garden of Delights. They wanted someone who wasn’t a pet, someone who couldn’t refuse their every demand. It was illegal, underground. It took a lot of work for Auguste to uncover it after he ascended. I’d listen in on meetings, hearing about the way these Akielon slaves had been treated. Trained to expect kindness, they were mistreated badly. Vere now has a strong system to weed out those still trying to trade in slaves, but you can’t catch everyone.”

Damen smiled softly at him, leaning into the affectionate touch to his hair as the tension seemed to melt from his body. He had been studying Laurent as he spoke, paying attention to his expression and tone. Oh how Laurent hated when people could read him. “You’re really sweet, aren’t you, Laurent?”

Blush crept up his cheeks, and Laurent continued to gaze at the flames. “I sound ridiculous and overly sensitive, but is it not the responsibility of a ruler to care for the health and safety of their people?”

The smile on Damen’s face grew, his eyes almost seeming to glow gold in the light of the fire. “You’re right. Auguste is lucky to have a Crown Prince like you at his side. All of Vere is lucky.” And then, in a quiet murmur that was probably not meant to be heard, “I’m lucky to have you.”

The next day, after lunch and a tour of the town, Laurent suggested a ride. The suggestion was partly casual activity, and partly the need to get his mind off the fact he was plagued with weirdly intimate dreams of Damen last night. How truly absurd, these boyish feelings.

So now they rode side by side, winter breeze kissing their skin as their horses flew along the hills and trees. Glancing beside him, Laurent smirked at Damen who was still fidgeting in the Veretian winter attire he’d been given.

“What’s wrong, my honorable barbarian? Is the jacket too tight?”

Damen had the expression of an animal frustrated as it finds itself trapped in an uncomfortable situation. “Are all these laces necessary? These clothes are beyond stiff and constricting!”

Laurent laughed breathlessly at that, offering an amused smile, “But you’re warm, are you not?” His words also alluded to when he opted to don the chiton when his Veretian clothes in Akielos grew too warm. Damen just looked at him, almost like he wanted to argue but couldn’t.

“A fine revenge, your highness.”

Their ride brought them as far north as Laurent was willing to go, now steering their horses back to return to Acquitart. Their path brought them alongside a creek, cold and crystal with the melt of the mountains. It was a relaxing and serene atmosphere, one that made Laurent draw in a breath of the chilly air.

“So, riding is your form of relief?” Damen inquired, casting curious glances in Laurent’s direction as they drew close to where they needed to cross the shallows of the creek.

He hummed in consideration, knowing Damen had read this part of him like a book like he had with his tender side last night. “How could it not? Nothing more freeing than the feeling of flying.”

They smiled at one another as their horses tread over the rocky bottom of the creek. One thing Laurent had failed to acknowledge was ice. Just before Cosette could step to the other side of the bank, her hoof landed on a slippery rock. It must’ve been an injury, because she cried out and now her whole body slid. Panic seized Laurent as he felt his mount going over, only barely having time to register Damen’s shout beside him.

Cold shot through his body, pain searing his side. Laurent was vaguely aware of Cosette stumbling up and limping off out of the creek. He himself was dazed, body locked in frozen tension. Then Damen was beside him, hauling Laurent out of the freezing creek and onto dry grass.

“Laurent! Are you hurt?!” Frantic warm brown eyes, hands flying over his body to look and feel for something.

It took longer than he would have liked for Laurent to blink himself out of his stupor. “F-fine. I’m fine,” he breathed out. A throbbing pain on his left side was starting to make itself known. “Let me check Cosette.” Laurent found himself moving out of instinct, like he was trying to give himself something to do other than being tended to by Damen. As he got up, pain shot up his leg and he cried out, falling into that warm body built like a damn fort.

“You’re hurt, Laurent.” Damen’s voice sounded so raw and protective that Laurent almost keeled over. “Here, hold on.” Sitting him back down, Damen went to check Cosette instead. After feeling around, he concluded it was a sprain and she’d be fine as long as weight wasn’t on her.

Laurent blinked, realizing the implication. “So we ride double?” Heat crept up his cheeks, but there really wasn’t much room to argue.

Damen was working quickly, aware that the longer Laurent stayed in cold, wet clothing, the likelier he was to become sick. Cosette tied to Damen’s horse, the Akielon prince strode over with purpose. Without a word, he grabbed Laurent by the waist and hoisted him to ride pillion.

“Wha– I can mount a horse myself!”

“Not with that injured leg.” Damen’s words were short and final. It shut Laurent up real quick. He realized he’d never seen Damen like this, tense and short with something blazing in those eyes.

They rode as quickly as possible as one could trailing an injured horse with them. Laurent felt a sort of drowsiness taking over him. In front of him, Damen’s body was warm, like a beacon calling out to him to come closer. Pressing closer with a shaky sigh, Laurent closed his eyes and let the warmth seep into his body. He could almost swear he felt Damen stiffen and suck in a breath.

In a low, soothing voice, Damen softly murmured, “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

Laurent could barely remember getting back to Acquitart. He was hardly aware of being frantically ushered inside, being drawn a hot bath, being given dry clothes, any of it. But there was one absolute among the hazy impressions, and that was Damen carrying him in his arms.

He was now seated before the fireplace in his room, a steaming cup of tea beside him and a quilt wrapped over his shoulders. Laurent stared at the licking flames, not bothering to turn his head at the presence coming to sit beside him. He knew it was Damen.

“Your physician said your leg is fine, just bruised from the fall. He does warn that you limit usage of it till the strain goes away.” Damen was handing something to him as he spoke. “And he also says there’s a chance of a cold.” There was sympathy in the tone.

Laurent blinked down, realizing he was being handed a steaming roll of bread. While it did look incredibly appetizing, Laurent didn’t want to remove his arms from the blanket. He felt frozen in place, like his limbs were sludge and didn’t want to obey his will. With a pout, he glanced at Damen.

There was silence, furrowed brows and almost a brief repulsion. “Don’t tell me you want me to feed you.”

Shaking his head, which felt like a chore itself, Laurent finally found his voice. “I wouldn’t dare ask that of an equal. As lovely as food would be, I don’t have the energy to unwrap my limbs right now.”

There was a long pause where the only sounds were the crack and pop of the fire. Finally, Damen made a soft sound, likely smiling that stupid warm smile of defeat. He tore off a bit of bread, holding it up. “But I am your friend, and I can make an exception for a friend in need.”

It was weird at first, taking bites of bread from Damen’s fingers. Yet in the silence of the room, the warmth of the fire in front of them, it felt right. Laurent couldn’t explain it, blaming his weird state of cold induced haze, but this silent domesticity between them had a naturalness to it.

Laurent didn’t remember how much he ate. Exhaustion catching up to him, it only took a few sips of warm tea till his eyes finally drooped. Warm drowsiness taking over, Laurent closed his eyes and let his head fall to the side, resting perfectly on the curve of Damen’s shoulder. As sleep took him, there was the faintest impression of lips on his forehead.

Chapter Text

As fate would have it, Damen’s addition to the Acquitart trip was completely and utterly ruined by one thing. Laurent got a cold. Seems a little tumble into a freezing creek and several arduous minutes in soaked clothing can bring illness upon someone. 

Unfortunately, as to not bring down the Crown Prince of their allied nation, Damen had to leave. He did look very regretful, as far as sickly Laurent could remember, on his way out.

A bummer, truly. The second Laurent was able to sit up long enough without feeling like the embodiment of death, he wrote.

My Hero in Bronze Armor,

I am terribly sorry this has happened, I really did look forward to spending time with you. I understand, from one Crown Prince to another, you are a busy man and it wasn’t in your best interest to linger around a Veretian fort as I lay sickly in bed. Still, your kindness was greatly appreciated. I don’t like showing weakness in front of others, something I learned attending court, yet you allowed me to feel safe. I look forward to our next meeting, however many seasons pass till then.

Your Sickly Little Princeling,

Laurent R.

Laurent had sent out the letter expecting Damen to either be near the end of his trip back to Ios, or somewhere in southern Akielos. So he was incredibly surprised when the response came back the same day.

My Drowsy Damsel,

I apologize for not getting you back sooner to avoid sickness in its entirety. It’s quite alright the trip didn’t work out, as I’m confident a better opportunity will present itself when the seasons turn. I decided to spend time in Delpha with Nikandros instead of traveling all the way back down to Ios too soon. Should I be embarrassed to admit I made your messenger wait as I penned this response? Even Nikandros has been looking at me funny. Old friends can be so judgmental. Please, come by when you feel better, hoping there will be a little time before I must depart.

Wishes of Good Health,

Damen V.

A laugh couldn’t help but escape himself as Laurent read it. Of course Damen would be eager to get word in as soon as possible should they have a chance to make up for this fumble of a trip. Hoping to ride down and see if he could find his royal companion, Laurent dressed himself and headed down from the keep. Just his luck he run into the caretaker.

“Arnoul! How many days have I been absent?”

The older man looked up from what he was doing, tapping his chin in thought. “I’d say it’s been around six or so days.”

Clicking his tongue, Laurent thanked the man and hurried off to the stables. Cosette may still be recovering, so he took up whatever horse was available. Now really wasn’t the time for logistics if he was to spend as much remaining time with Damen as he can.

Flying out over the Alier countryside, Laurent made for Delpha. He passed over the border in the same place from last time, then slowed down to take in his surroundings. If what Nikandros said about the soldiers being in the area to counter raiders is true, they’d be east closer to the mountains. Destination in mind, Laurent took off.

It didn’t take long to spot the splotches of red amongst the dull winter landscape. With the attitude of someone who owned the place, Laurent rode up into camp. It didn’t take a genius to figure a prince would likely be where a clump of men were gathered, cheering and watching something of clear interest.

Dismounting and tying the nameless horse to a nearby post, Laurent curiously strolled up to the commotion. Part of him wondered, hoped, it would be Damen sparring with perhaps Nikandros or another soldier of higher rank. What he saw instead was– well it was definitely not that. 

It was Damen and Nikandros, unmistakably, yes. But they were wrestling. Nude. Very nude. And covered in oil. 

Laurent’s eyes were probably bulging out of his head like some prudish fool. The scene playing out before him was his younger, sexually curious self’s wet dream. It was all bronze skin and muscle, mixed with sounds he probably should remind himself is sport-like exertion and not…something else.

After what felt like hours, but easily a minute or two in reality, Damen overtook Nikandros, holding the Kyros down till he yielded. When Damen stood, Laurent almost passed out. How was he even more beautiful than before?!

Toweling himself off and retrieving his clothes, Damen grinned at his friend, “Good fight!” He then turned, finally spotting the one person who looked very out of place in the sea of olive skin and dark hair. “Laurent!”

Everyone turned and Laurent was sure he was completely red. Holding his fist over his mouth, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “I assumed you’d still be here in Delpha, so I came searching to give my proper goodbyes before you depart. I hope riding into camp unannounced doesn’t offend you.”

Damen smiled at him, walking over and slinging an arm around his shoulder to guide Laurent away from all the curious soldiers. “Good timing! ‘Suppose you could say there was some downtime, and curious soldiers wanted to see their prince in action.”

‘Oh, he was in action alright,’ Laurent thought to himself before being brought into a warm tent. “I recall reading about Akielon wrestling, it just seems to have slipped my mind the difference between reading and reality. I’m not sure how I’d feel about engaging in sport like that.”

That earned Laurent a scrolling gaze over his body. “I don’t doubt your strength has improved greatly, but I would say wrestling isn’t… your thing.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your honest evaluation of my athleticism.” Laurent deadpanned, giving the most unamused look he could muster.

But of course that just earned him a grin from Damen, who unhelpfully looked perfectly mused and relaxed. “You're welcome.” Leaning forward, Damen pressed the back of his hand to Laurent’s cheek, “Feeling better?”

“Y-yes, thank you,” thankfully came out sounding normal. Laurent kept his eyes anywhere but Damen’s face. Knowing he couldn’t hide the rising heat in his cheeks from the hand lying against it, he tried deflection. “I hope we’ll be able to meet again soon, under less spontaneous conditions.”

Damen’s smile widened, turning his hand to caress Laurent’s cheek instead. “We will. I’ll always make time for you, Laurent.”

His breathing stopped. Did he really forget how to breathe? Laurent looked up with probably the most wide eyed stupefied expression, “As I for you, too.” 

With the grace of a gentleman, and the swoon-worthy mannerisms of a prince, Damen took Laurent’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He was sure in that moment he had died. What mere hours ago was the need to be near Damen again, now all Laurent could think to do was flee.

The rest of the time in Acquitart wasn’t worth much to remember. Time was spent exploring, reading, and sending out a few more letters. Laurent did end up traveling out to Ravenel and Fortaine to meet with the lords, princely duties and all. In the least, the time he spent with the border soldiers was actually worth something. He got to practice working with troops and running drills. Such activities occupied his time and offered valuable lessons, if that’s worth anything of the failed trip.

But now he was back in Arles. They arrived late at night due to some complications on the road. Curse wagons and their pathetically breakable wheel axles. The second Laurent was back in his room, he was out like a light.

Morning – or maybe it’s actually afternoon – came with a gentle awakening. Laurent rolled from bed to find food had been left out for him, likely at Auguste’s request. Oh how grateful he was. Stretching lazily as a cat would, Laurent paced into the seating area and picked up a jelly glazed pastry, taking a bite as he checked for any letters or other such important papers left for him. Nothing of interest.

Good, this would be a lazy day where he could do as he pleases. Laurent knew this, because Auguste never dared to request too much of him when he was in a cranky mood, and that late arrival to Arles last night was reason enough to invoke such a mood.

Picking up his writing supplies, Laurent figured he’d go to the library and pen a letter. He swept out into the halls, enjoying that he spent the heart of the winter months south instead of in the colder north. Spring was just starting to show itself. His birthday would be soon, the prospect drawing a smile to Laurent’s lips.

Everything was perfectly normal as he traversed the palace and through the ornate library doors. Nothing was off right until he spotted a child sized intrusion in his favorite window seat. Laurent paused, blinking at the child.

Usually, Laurent prided himself in being aware of which staff members had children, what the children looked like, their names, and how often they’d appear in the palace by their parents. This child was completely unfamiliar. He appeared around the age of ten or so, fluffy brown hair crowning his head.

He must’ve been staring long enough, because the boy looked up with the biggest, brightest blue eyes Laurent had ever seen. “Who are you?” It was stern and accusatory. 

“Oh? You don’t recognize your Crown Prince?” Laurent tilted his head, rather curious now.

The child scowled, a look almost unnatural to his boyish features. “Am I supposed to?”

Oh, Laurent was definitely liking this child. He smiled, waltzing over to take the open side of the window seat. “I suppose not. But you do owe me your name, it would be improper otherwise.”

“Nicaise.” A quick and simple answer before his attention was buried back into his book. Laurent couldn’t help but laugh at that, setting up his own parchment to write.

“What brings you here, Nicaise?” He made casual conversation as they both pretended to be occupied with their own things.

Nicaise seemed to have to think about his answer. He slowly lowered the book, pouting with brows furrowed in thought. “I’m here with my…uh– she’s my…” 

Laurent raised a brow the longer it troubled the child. Best to help out before he hurts himself. “Since you aren’t referring to this woman as immediate family or a friend, I can only assume you’ve recently come into her care from somewhere else?”

The question allowed Nicaise to stop thinking so hard about it. “Mhm. I guess she can be called my new mother, but I’m not really sure what mothers are supposed to be like.”

“Ah, I understand,” Laurent smiled, relaxing into the chair further. “What’s her name?”

“Rosalie Lavigne.”

Oh. Oooooooh . Laurent nodded, recognizing the name. Rosalie is the daughter of Lord Lavigne, a wealthy vineyard owner from Ladehors. That could only mean one thing. “Is that so? Is she here courting the King then?”

“Mhm.”

Laurent clicked his tongue. Auguste would not be hearing the end of this later. For how long during his three month trip in Acquitart was this courting happening? Not a single word of it the whole time. Was today their first official meeting together? Probably not, since Nicaise appeared clearly comfortable as if he’s been in this library a few times to make it a waiting place during all of this.

“What language is that?” Laurent flinched, not noticing Nicaise having moved to lean right over his shoulder. He was staring at the start of the letter Laurent was penning.

“It’s Akielon,” Laurent said, tilting the paper so Nicaise could see it better. He was thankful the boy couldn’t read it, saving himself some minor embarrassment even though nothing he’d written was worthy of hiding away.

“Oh. Why not just write in Veretian?” Straight to the point. Laurent really was liking Nicaise.

He hummed thoughtfully, turning his attention to the curious youth. “It’s correspondence with Akielos’ Crown Prince. I suppose you could say it’s a symbol of our alliance and friendship, I write to him in Akielon, he to me in Veretian. A cultural exchange.”

Nicaise just stared at him with furrowed brows, before finally nodding, “I wanna learn to read it too!”

Laurent smiled warmly. His letter could wait, not that Damen needed word for anything so quickly in the first place. And so began a beginners lesson in the Akielon language, courtesy of the methods Damen himself had taught Laurent.

Perhaps a few hours had passed when the library doors swung open. Auguste walked in with what must be Lady Lavigne on his arm. Rosalie Lavigne was nothing short of beautiful, curling brown hair kept in the season’s fashion, kind green eyes, and gentle features that would make anyone comfortable around her. They looked like a fine pair, King and noble lady. Nicaise lit up upon seeing her, standing up and hurrying over.

“Prince Laurent was teaching me Akielon! He’s been exchanging secret letters with their prince!” Both Lady Lavigne and Auguste laughed, unfortunately at Laurent’s expense. No matter, not like Nicaise knew the contents of the letters anyway.

“Is that so?” Lady Lavigne inquired, ruffling Nicaise’s hair like a mother. When Laurent stood and approached, she bowed, “Your Highness.”

Laurent inclined his head in return, “Lady Lavigne. I’m glad to make your acquaintance. Nicaise is quite lovely, I must thank you for bringing him.”

She smiled at that, eyeing the boy as he started to wander off. “It warms my heart to hear it. I apologize to not spend much time with you, Your Highness. Certainly on my next trip we can take the time to acquaint ourselves.”

“I’d be delighted, Lady Lavigne,” Laurent replied with another polite incline of his head.

Bowing once more, she smiled with a light blush on her cheeks, “Just Rosalie is fine, Your Highness.”

“Of course.”

All pleasantries out of the way, Rosalie and Nicaise left. The second they were gone, Laurent turned his sights on Auguste. “So when did you plan to tell me you’ve made a selection of potential brides and were courting?”

Auguste cleared his throat, shifting on his feet like a nervous youth. “Soon! Soon. I wanted to get to know Rosalie a bit before I announced anything.” 

“Oh really?” Laurent smiled, the expression hopefully a predatory grin as Auguste seemed to deflate. They moved off to Auguste’s chambers, calling up food and refreshments so they could catch up after a few months apart.

Laurent learned more about Nicaise’s situation with Rosalie. She had been out in town, close to a year before now, on business with her father. Bored as any young woman of a lord is, she’d wandered off to check some stalls nearby. A disgruntled man was back in an alley nearby, cursing at a young boy and beating him badly. Nicaise. In a bold move to save his life and keep the raging man appeased, Rosalie offered to take Nicaise and compensate the man. 

Apparently Nicaise was not only a bastard, but his birth took the life of his mother. This angered his father who saw the child as nothing but a leech. So offering the man money for his ‘wasted years’ seemed as peaceful of a way to resolve the issue as possible. Now Nicaise lived with Rosalie, her being his new guardian, technically adoptive mother but it seems they haven’t gotten close enough yet to call it that.

Once the tale was regaled, Laurent chewed his lower lip as the information settled. “You say he’s almost eleven? That’s a long time to spend neglected.”

“Indeed,” Auguste sighed. He took a drink of his wine, leaning back in his chair. “From what I’ve seen, he’s not a bad kid at all. Shy at first, but he’s got the makings of a witty and charming prince.”

Laurent almost spat out his water. “Confident enough in your courting of Rosalie that you can see even Nicaise joining our royal family?”

“Are you not?” Auguste said it with the most innocent and curious puppy expression. All Laurent could do was deadpan.

“I’ve been in Acquitart for three months, and traveling for nearly one more. I trust you, since you’re King, to make that decision but don’t look to me for an opinion.”

Auguste chuckled at that, willing to accept the point made. Now he smiled cattishly at Laurent, a signifier of horrors to come. “And how about you, Laurie? How’s your courtship with Damen coming along?”

This time Laurent did spit out his water.

Chapter Text

Spring finally came into full bloom, then slowly crept its way towards summer. Laurent’s seventeenth birthday passed, another book as a gift from Damen paired with a charming letter. The seasons passed with these letters too, friendly exchanges and Laurent refusing to even entertain Auguste’s words that haunted him since. Then summer stretched towards its final months when a new proposal of “diplomatic travels” came in.

My Dearest Exotic Flower,

Whilst I know your last trip to Akielos had some discomforts, I’d like to offer you something more relaxing. I was up in Delpha once more, Crown Prince’s duties and all, and realized there’s something I’d like to try with you. The heat is starting to come to a heel, so I believe it would be perfect for us to travel the countryside together and reside for some time in the more wooded regions. There’s a dear friend of mine, Heston of Thoas, who I believe you would get along with quite well. Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

Your Humble Friend Over the Border,

Damen V.

Laurent stared at the letter, thumbing over Damen’s signature as he reclined on his bed in the morning. The soft light pooled in the room and birdsong mellowed the atmosphere. Still, none of that dampened the thoughts in his mind.

Ever since Auguste made the quip of courting Damen, Laurent has been a mess. It really wasn’t ideal either, as his mind from the passing years attending court and council has become his sharpest weapon. He hated not being able to think straight. Still… Laurent wanted to see Damen. Even if the idea of romantic feelings scared him, there was no denying Damen was still a dear friend.

Groaning, Laurent rolled from bed to fish around for his writing supplies. It was too early in the morning to be bothered with dressing and all that, so he just took the supplies, flopped back in bed, and penned his response.

Overbearing Beacon of Sunshine,

I would be delighted to accept your invitation. Exploring the countryside of Akielos, especially on horseback, is certainly something that excites me. You have also piqued my curiosity as to why I may get along with this Heston of yours. I’ll hold you to that statement, Damianos. I’ll inform Auguste and organize the trip quickly if you wish to make the most of the dying summer. In that case, I’ll also save any new gossip until we are in each other’s presence.

Your Little Sunflower,

Laurent R.

Satisfied with his response, and not thinking of the possible implications of the chosen addresses, Laurent sent off the letter. It wasn’t until after getting dressed, having breakfast, meeting with Auguste to organize the trip, then returning to his room to make preparations that it hit him. Laurent called Damen a ray of sunshine, even though his intention was to mock the way he’d been referred to as an “exotic flower”. But calling himself a sunflower, a flower which turned to face the sun, well… that could have some implications Laurent wasn’t sure he was ready to face. 

Laurent had been standing frozen in his place for so long over the realization that he was completely startled with a poke to the leg. Whipping around, he found Nicaise looking up at him while casually feasting on a pastry.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s gotten into you recently?” Nicaise was rather blunt, as boys his age usually are.

Rolling his eyes and shaking himself back into the present, Laurent returned to his preparations. “Prince stuff. Duties are often exhausting that I find myself drained at times.” It was a flimsy excuse and he knew it. Still, Nicaise just eyed him before shrugging.

“Whatever. Rosalie says you’re going away on another trip.”

“I am,” Laurent replied, now falling back into his normal self and routine. “Akielos. Around two months counting the time to travel and my stay.”

“Okay.” Nicaise was quiet for a moment, staring as if he wanted to say something else before finally finding his words. “When you get back, you’re going to have to make up for the missed time of teaching me Akielon.”

It made him breathe out a laugh. Nicaise was an interesting child, one Laurent progressively enjoyed the presence of in the palace as Auguste and Rosalie’s relationship deepened.

“Very well,” he said. “Double the lessons and desserts.”

Nicaise grinned right up at him and ran off.

Days of excruciating, aimless travel is what met Laurent for the next few weeks. Long hours traversing down the lands, scorching sun and dry heat making it all rather uncomfortable. There were those who could argue a ship would’ve made for faster travel, but it was all too much of a hassle for Laurent. And admittedly, by his own bias, he just liked riding Cosette anyway.

The designated meeting place was a fort called Karthas. While it was impressive, ogling at the fortress wasn’t really in Laurent’s interest. He simply took note of the way the Akielons ran the place, the swift action of the men in the watchtowers and calls going out for the gates. On the inside stood his prize.

Damen in all his glory, smiles and all, came out to greet him. Laurent himself grinned, gracefully dismounting his mare and embracing his fellow prince.

“I do pray that you don’t plan to begin our travels immediately. I’m quite sore and feel I could sleep all day.” He beamed up at Damen, basking in the feeling of the chuckle rumbling against Damen’s chest.

“Of course not,” he said. “The entire party needs rest. Come, I believe the food is ready.”

Laurent couldn’t suppress his own soft sound of satisfaction. He was hungry and aching, looking forward to a meal and collapsing.

The meal was wonderful, and the company wasn’t all that bad. It was relaxing to quietly sit back and watch Damen interact with his men. He was friendly and charming, all eyes turned to their prince as he spoke. The longer it went on, the more Laurent could see the man Damen was, and the king he’d be some day. He didn’t know how much time went by like that, blending into the background as a grin brighter than the sun illuminated the room.

Everything was ready to go when Laurent was up the next day. He’d chosen lighter riding clothes to fend against the heat, having learned his lesson on too much thicker fabric before. Rested and rejuvenated, they set out.

Around a half hour into the ride, Laurent and Damen pulled themselves ahead of the company. They set a distance where they were still in sight for safety, but far enough for private conversation. Finally, Laurent let his posture slack a bit and princely demeanor cool.

“You were right,” Laurent began, “it’s not as deadly hot as it was before.”

Damen hummed, also seeming to slacken his posture in turn. “While I’d say it’s hot in Akielos year round, the worst of it has passed. It’s also easier being north of Ios where it can be considered cooler by your standards.”

They rode along leisurely beside each other. It was peaceful between them, a comfortable silence that didn’t feel the need to be broken. It felt nice. Laurent let his eyes wander the landscape, taking in the rolling hills of vibrant green grass, the granite protrusions scarring the land, and the few but much appreciated lush trees providing shade along the path.

After passing numerous check points and taking a couple breaks, their party descended into some thicker woods. Damen reigned in closer, their legs brushing as he leaned in with a grin. “Welcome to the estate of Heston of Thoas.”

Laurent looked up from the road to take it all in. It was a beautiful estate, consisting of private gardens, sprawling orchards, and of course the long marble-fluted buildings. It was a quiet place, peaceful in its tucked away location amongst the open countryside of Akielos. Laurent smiled.

“Perhaps I’m starting to understand why you think I’ll like him. I do enjoy privacy and dear Heston seems to have achieved it.”

Damen laughed beside him, speeding up like an excited youth on their final approach. There was no stopping the grin on Laurent’s face and the inexplicable urge to follow along. 

Upon arriving at the estate, they were greeted by Heston’s household before the man himself strolled out. Heston of Thoas seemed close to middle aged, as assumed by someone who is friends with King Theomedes, with peppered dark hair and a beard to match. He welcomed Damen like family would, a familial bond between them. Then Heston turned to Laurent.

“Your Highness, I’m honored to welcome you to my home. Prince Damianos has spoken well of you.”

This got an eyebrow raise from Laurent, casting a glance at Damen who shrugged and played innocent. “Did he now? I’m glad to know he’s building a good reputation for me here.”

Heston laughed as he and his household ushered the two princes inside. Walking through the halls, Laurent’s gaze drifted left to right, up and down, admiring every little detail he could. The home was well kept, the marble allowing a cool but bright atmosphere all throughout. Decor was placed perfectly, not too obtrusive but not lacking either. Heston certainly had an eye for detail and Laurent could appreciate that.

They toured the home and were shown their rooms before they were informed of what time dinner would be served. After that, it was free time. Just as Laurent was going to wander his way back into the library, the door he was passing opened. Damen peered out, seeming thankful as if Laurent was just the person he was looking for.

“If you don’t mind, would you like to spend some time with me?” It seemed a casual question as any, but Laurent could pick up a hint of something.

“Of course, I can pilfer Heston’s library later.” Laurent smiled, entering the room as Damen simply chuckled and shook his head.

They walked out to the balcony which viewed the sprawling orchards of apricots and nectarines. A blanket and some pillows were sprawled along the ground, so Laurent gracefully folded his legs and sat. Damen sat beside him, groaning softly and leaning back on his hands.

“Nice to sit down after a bit, huh?” He glanced over, smile weary. Before Laurent could respond, a servant came in and placed a couple dishes and drinks down for them. It was a lighter fare to keep them refreshed till dinner. 

Eyeing the small array of things to eat, Laurent picked up a flaky golden pastry that was filled with something. Damen was watching him, just grabbing a simple apricot from one of the dishes. 

“Spanakopita. It’s filo dough filled with spinach and feta cheese.”

“Ah.” Laurent took a bite. It was absolutely delightful, the filling savory and the dough a perfect flaky butteriness. He knew he must’ve been making a ridiculous expression with the way Damen snorted softly beside him. 

They snacked quietly together like that for a bit, nothing between them except the breeze rustling the trees and occasional sound of chewing. It would have been peaceful had Laurent not gotten good at reading people. He really had to thank his years of suffering through lousy council meetings and court appearances for that.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Laurent began, “I’d assume you were the golden prince with no care in the world. That’s how you present yourself, isn’t it?”

Damen tensed beside him. A cursory glance met Laurent’s calm, collected gaze. “I’m not really sure what you mean.”

He wasn’t playing dumb, that much Laurent could tell. This seemed like avoidance. “All the times we’ve met, all the time spent together, you’ve radiated this bright and honorable energy. Always grinning, always caring, always perfect. I caught a glimpse of what was behind all that that day in Acquitart. When you told me about the slaves that were in your household, how you realized their position and what it all meant, I could see how frustrated and troubled you were. So tell me, Damianos, what is it you keep hiding?”

Silence. It was a long and tense silence. Damen’s gaze was fixed out over the orchards, but it seemed to be looking even further off than that. Slowly, this picture of a man akin to the sun came apart. Shoulders dropped, head fell back, expression fell to something heavier and exhausted. Damen was letting himself unravel, taking down the armor he put up to maintain the perfect prince.

“I always tried to be careful around you,” Damen said. His head tipped to look at Laurent, curls falling across his forehead. “You were young when we met. For an alliance to work, a chance of peace and friendship, I wanted to be someone who was worthy of offering trust to.” He then paused for a moment while picking his next words. “My whole life up until Marlas, I’d been raised to see Veretians as snakes, liars who did what they could to get what they wanted. That doesn’t go away in a day. I’m not saying I lied to you or Auguste, but I was careful about how I presented myself. I had to be careful that each step wouldn’t lead to disaster.”

Laurent hummed, pulling his knees up to his chest and turning his gaze to the patterned pillow by his feet. Even being a few years from his majority, there was still a lot he’d come to understand. The Damen he’d witnessed over the years being a facade wasn’t entirely true, he knew that. “You know, I asked Auguste what you were like on the battlefield. The question was for training purposes. I haven't forgotten my promise to best you in a duel, but I learned something. He told me of your determination, the desperation and ferocity in your gaze as you two clashed. A prince, fighting for his country and its future. When he’d run through your shoulder, Auguste told me he stepped back to let you pick up your sword instead of finishing you off. He said he’d never see someone look so stunned before.”

Damen laughed beside him. He reached up, rubbing that place beneath his collarbone where Auguste’s sword had pierced. “I probably did look completely dumbfounded. Everything I’d been taught about fighting, about war, all of it out the window the second Auguste didn’t follow through his advantage to end my life. And I almost ended his too before the call came out of the fall of King Aleron, and I saw the fear in his face.”

“I remember he told me how it felt like the ground gave out beneath him in that moment. Every outcome ran through his mind and every fear of my safety hitting him deeper than any sword could plunge.”

“Then that explanation pairs well with the look he wore.” Damen took a bite of his fourth apricot, grimacing as his teeth clashed with the pit. “How would you feel if I told you I almost didn’t give him the chance when he called for truce one more time? It would’ve been so easy for me to take advantage and win the battle, earn my people’s approval and go home a hero.”

While he had suspected there existed earlier feelings of malice and hesitation, it was still violently sobering to hear this. Laurent felt his own body unwind, closing his eyes and letting the words sink in. “I wouldn’t blame you, especially with how my father’s herald treated King Theomedes. Spat on the ground. Although if you had killed Auguste, I would live my whole life from there hunting you down for vengeance.” 

He opened his eyes just in time to see Damen eyeing him, and that expression very easily read, ‘You wouldn’t have a chance’. Laurent looked back, his gaze steady and let his own eyes respond, 'I know but I’d still try’. 

After staring at each other like that, finally starting to see one another, Laurent smiled. “From now on, you don’t need to hold together the illusion of a happy-go-lucky golden prince in front of me. I want to see the real you, Damen.”

“And if I’m not even sure who the ‘real’ me is?”

“Then we can figure that out together.”

Chapter Text

The second day at Heston’s estate came with a beautiful morning. The perfect temperature where it was just warm enough to be comfortable with only a hint of humidity, clear skies barely streaked with wisps of clouds, and the pleasant smell of flowers drifting through the balcony doors. A hearty breakfast waited in one of the gardens alongside Heston, who happily engaged in philosophical discussion with Laurent. Seems philosophy got the man very animated. It truly delighted Laurent. 

After breakfast, he was being ushered out to the long sprawling orchards. Laurent followed the tall figure ducking around the rows of apricot trees like a child playing a game. It continued until he and Damen were a ways off from the home.

“Any reason you’re luring me out here like a playful child?”

Damen reached up and snatched a few ripe apricots, tossing them back and forth between his hands before sending one Laurent’s way. “I wanted to continue our discussion from yesterday. I’d prefer to be away from any members of the household.”

“Fair enough.” Laurent caught the fruit, running his thumb over its soft skin before taking a bite. Sweet with just a hint of tartness.

“You want me to be honest, so I’ll be honest,” Damen stated rather bluntly. He took a bite of his own apricot, casually licking a stray drop of juice from his lip. “When this whole alliance started, my father wasn’t on board with it for the reasons you may think. It was tactical to him, a way to lower suspicions and attack when it was time. It’s not a method I suspected when it’s dishonorable to the usual Akielon ways.”

Laurent listened as Damen spoke matter-of-factly. His training in battle and eye for tactics really started to show with how he expressed those facts. “Perhaps I had been growing suspicious over the years when King Theomedes often turned down most invites for trips or meetings. I brushed it off since Auguste was so certain things were going alright.” His own confirmation to Damen allowed the other to continue peeling back the curtains. 

“I went along with it at first. My people’s history, everything I’d been taught, it all told me to listen to my father and not trust the alliance.”

“So what changed your mind?” Laurent stopped walking, forcing Damen to stop as well and face him.

The eyes that looked down at Laurent were calm. They weren’t the overly bright and warm eyes he’d been used to, but these were still honest and real. “You,” Damen said. The answer was simple, straightforward. Admittedly, Laurent had been expecting it but that certainly couldn’t prepare him from hearing it anyway.

His mind was screaming at him deflect, deflect, DEFLECT! Turning away to keep walking, Laurent answered, “Surprising, considering I’ve given King Theomedes plenty of reasons now to wipe Vere off the map.”

Damen just breathed a disbelieving laugh and followed along. It didn’t take a man his size very long to catch up, he could do so with just one large stride. “I may not have agreed with Vere in the past, but you and Auguste have worked hard, rather passionately at that, to make it better. No kingdom and no ruler are perfect, I’ve grown to understand that, but I can see my father’s grievances are old and not worth taking out on you both.”

It was a bit scary to think about the more Laurent processed the confession. Even though Damen was showing that nothing bad was going to happen now, it didn’t stop the what-ifs from creeping into Laurent’s mind. For how long had the Damen of the early days of alliance been fake, a kind face worn by a predator to lure its prey in? How would it have happened? Would armies in bronze armor and red cloaks pour over the land like a flood of death? Would they have set up a facade of a diplomatic meeting to strike him and Auguste down? Would it have been Damen who–

“Hey.”

Laurent blinked, his vision swimming back to steady clarity. Damen’s hand was on his shoulder, firm and unwavering, brows knit in concern and lips drawn.

“I’m– apologies. I didn’t mean to lose myself just now.” The heat bleeding into his cheeks grew stronger as Laurent stared down at his feet instead. 

The hand on his shoulder clasped tighter, and he could sense Damen looking around in uncertainty. “I can take you back to rest–”

“No!” Laurent cut him off, just a bit too frantically. “No, I can’t rest when my head is like this.”

“A ride, then. You said you go on rides to clear your head.”

Again, Laurent shouldn’t be shocked. He told Damen that, however long ago it was, so it shouldn’t make his heart leap when the other remembers that fact. He just nodded to the proposition as words could not make themselves leave his mouth.

They walked quietly, side by side, to return to the estate and grab their horses. Laurent waited out behind the stables, finding it odd he actually trusted Damen to handle Cosette as very few people had that privilege. The Akielon prince soon returned with reigns in both hands, handing off Cosette before mounting his own horse and already turning in a clear direction.

“Already planning where to take me to discard of me?”

“Laurent, don’t be like that.” Damen said it glancing over his shoulder in a serious manner. It should not have made Laurent’s stomach flip the way it did.

“Fine,” he said with mild defeat. “I’ll follow your lead.”

After riding north east for a bit, they arrived at a river. There’d been a stream nearby Heston’s, so Laurent assumed this must be the greater source it fed from. The river ran slow and steady, the water glistening brightly in the light of the afternoon sun. The whole area was surrounded by lush trees and grassy slopes leading to the banks. It was a beautiful place to stop after the silent, relaxing ride.

Laurent led Cosette down a bit before dismounting and allowing her to graze, Damen following in suit. Careful not to stumble down the slope, Laurent came to the river’s edge and peered down. It looked absolutely refreshing now that the day was getting hot and he was still battling some anxiety.

“How deep do you think it is?” he asked, squatting down to run his fingers over the surface.

Damen loomed behind him, replying as one who knows the place well would. “Near three meters, I believe.”

Laurent straightened up in surprise. “Near three? Perhaps this river must’ve run a lot quicker in its past.”

“Well then, how about a swim?” Damen was now walking forward, unpinning the top of his chiton, then pausing as he considered stripping fully or not.

“A what?” Of course Laurent knew what swimming was, he wasn’t stupid. It all came down to one simple fact.

“You don’t know how to swim?” It came out in such a dumbfounded manner that Laurent wanted to laugh. Damen seemed genuinely shocked that a Veretian prince didn’t know how to swim. 

This caused Laurent to sigh and dramatically shake his head. “Alas, I know not how to swim.” He leaned back and threw his arm over his eyes like a distressed maiden.

Pacing him for a moment, Damen hummed and stepped back to the river’s edge. “I can teach you, it’s really not hard at all. I’ll leave my chiton like this around my waist since stripping down fully doesn’t seem proper at the moment. You should take your vest off, but it’s up to you for your undershirt.” And with that, the muscled brute most delicately dove into the water.

Laurent watched in both awe and amusement, still staying perched in his spot. Damen breached the surface moments later, looking refreshed and exhilarated. His dark curls were swept back out of his face taking on a more mellow wave in their wetness. Droplets of water glittered and rolled down the defined sculpt of his face, and Laurent knew damn well he was staring. It’s not every day you get to see the embodiment of a god walking among mere mortals.

“Gonna come in? It’s fine if you don’t wish to, of course.” Damen grinned at him, swimming in place with his head and shoulders staying above water.

With wording like that, Laurent was bound to take it as a challenge. He raises a brow, discarding his vest and boots before stopping. All that was left keeping him from exposing his fine, pale skin to the Akielon sun was his undershirt and pants. After debating for several moments, he chose to leave them on.

Now he was psyching himself out. Even with the slow flow of the river, it was deeper than he was tall, no way to stand once he was in. Fine, it was fine. With a deep breath and steeling of his resolve, Laurent leapt with all the force he could muster and dove in.

The surprising chill of water shocked him for a moment till Laurent’s fully submerged body adjusted to it. The silence that then surrounded him allowed the beat of his heart to become louder. And now what? Panic slowly dawning, Laurent wriggled and squirmed a bit. Was he allowed to open his eyes? Which direction was he, head still pointing to the surface? Does he just flail his arms and kick? All this ran through his head as Laurent realized he also needed a breath of air desperately soon.

Before fear or further danger consumed him, a pair of strong arms were beneath his own and pulling him to the surface. The second his head breached, Laurent took in a gasping breath of air, coughing a bit and blinking water from his eyes.

“Woah! I got you! It’s okay!” Damen assured him in quick succession, keeping hold on his waist. “Laurent, look at me.”

The reaction was immediate. Laurent slowed his racing thoughts by keeping his eyes locked to Damen’s. “I don’t– what do I do?”

“Kick your feet and steady yourself with your arms like this.” Still keeping one of his arms around Laurent’s waist for safety, Damen demonstrated what was called ‘treading water’.

“Okay.” Laurent nodded. Slowly, he adjusted to the rhythm of kicking his feet and moving his arms to keep himself upright and afloat. Damen kept his hand in a steadying grip until he was certain letting go wouldn’t lead to drowning. 

“There you go!” He beamed, putting a bit more distance between himself and Laurent to move without bumping each other.

Laurent felt a surge of pride and satisfaction seeing the way Damen reacted to such a simple feat. All prior reserve was out the window as a new confidence filled his chest. “Well then, teacher, what next?” 

Damen spent a while teaching Laurent the basics of swimming and certain things he enjoyed doing. With each new thing taught, each move of trial and error, Laurent grew even more confident. Soon, they were playing around like they were born in the water, diving around, pulling and pushing, laughing and teasing. It was the most fun Laurent had had in a long while.

What he enjoyed most was diving down and just slowly gliding along. It was this freeing feeling, floating quietly as the world went silent, feeling the current pass against his skin. It honestly made him feel like, dare he say, the mermaids in the fairytales his mother used to read to him. Laurent started doing it so often that Damen would occasionally grow concerned when he wouldn’t resurface as fast. 

They were now floating on their backs side by side as they stared at the sky. It was relaxing, the only sounds heard being the occasional drag of an arm through the water. Laurent turned his head to look at Damen, finding the other with his eyes closed. He was a beautiful sight, the sun defining all his best features which were especially highlighted with the added sheen of water.

It all made Laurent think back to what Auguste had said. ‘How’s your courtship with Damen coming along?’ This wasn’t a courtship, he knew that. Still, Laurent couldn’t deny that as he grew older, certain feelings were blossoming. He liked Damen, who didn’t? Yes, more flaws were coming to light, but it’s like those things made Laurent appreciate him even more. Damen wasn’t perfect, he was human, doing what he believed was right and for the best for his people. What was best for his family.

Sighing, Laurent tapped Damen’s arm and gestured that he was returning to shore. Swimming back over, he hauled himself out of the water with greater effort than he anticipated. Being soaked, his shirt clung to his skin and caused Laurent to grimace. It was probably best to bask in the sun to dry off before even thinking about returning to Heston’s.

So, scoping out the grassy slope, Laurent picked a plush and sunny spot to collapse and dry off. After a minute or two of lying there, steps pulsed through the ground as Damen soon appeared, lying down right beside him.

“So, how was your first time swimming?”

“I didn’t realize how exhausting it was until I climbed out and my limbs felt heavy.” Laurent laughed softly as Damen also chuckled beside him. They then fell back into silence again, just the sound of their breathing and the rustling of leaves with the light breeze.

As they rested and dried off, both of them would occasionally shift pose or move limbs. That’s how they both ended up setting their hands down in the same spot. Laurent flinched and Damen tensed, but neither moved their hands where they lay touching.

Slowly, very slowly and without word, their hands turned and shifted until they were held clasped together. Laurent sucked in a breath, worried that breathing would disturb the fragile peace of the moment. Eventually, he was brave enough to turn his head and look.

It was funny, the way their hands looked clasped together. Laurent’s hand was pale and thin, each tendon and knuckle defined beneath marble white skin. Damen’s hand was certainly bigger, calloused from wielding a sword but still soft all the same. The olive skin looked stark in contrast to Laurent’s own, the color lightening on the side of his palms. It was aesthetically pleasing, dare he say. 

When Laurent raised his head, he realized Damen had been looking at their hands as well, and now they were looking at each other. There were no words, like speaking would completely shatter the moment. Their eyes said everything, a silent assurance and mutual affection over the gesture. 

Finally, Laurent closed his eyes and dared to rest his head on Damen’s shoulder. With a bit of reluctance, and perhaps anxiety, Laurent silently accepted the fact he was falling in love with Damianos of Akielos.

Chapter Text

Dearest Elegant Otter,

The moment the weather called for it, and circumstances allowed, I took Auguste to our favorite lake and taught him to swim as you’ve done for I. He was quite delighted, laughing loud enough to scare off all the birds in nearby trees. I’d say he was clumsier at it than I was, but a much faster learner. I would have assumed swimming was in the itinerary for the trips he shared with you, but it seems that wasn’t the case. Next time I’m in Akielos, I’d like to try taking a dip in the sea. I look forward to the lesson on beach safety.

Your Little Mermaid,

Laurent R.

My Flopping Fish,

Glad to see you sharing the joys of a refreshing swim. Your words now make me regret not tossing Auguste into the water myself. Alas, there will always be things in life we miss out on. But of course on your next trip to Akielos, I’ll gladly take you out into the sea. It’s crystal clear and always warm, you’ll love it. Much better than a freezing creek in Acquitart. But as we write, I want to let you know I’ve spoken to my father. Old grievances are hard to break, but he’s warming up. The longer I know you, the more I understand things I wouldn’t have before. I admire you for that, Laurent, and he will too.

King of the Sea,

Damen V.

Curly Cherub,

Love is in the air. Auguste has proposed to Rosalie. I’m still in a bit of shock if I’m honest. I do like her a lot, and Nicaise is a treat to have around. I’ll be pleased to call him my brother. It’s still very new though. After Marlas, I feel like I had to grow up a little fast stepping into the shoes of Crown Prince. It would have been easier if I’d actually done my duty as a child, but books and ponies were much more interesting. I suppose I’m rambling now, but it seems I actually fear Auguste getting married as if I’m losing a brother. How pathetic.

Worrisome Little Lamb,

Laurent R.

Precious Little Prince,

I can understand why you’d be upset. A sibling getting married probably feels like losing a second half, even if they’re still there all the same. I wouldn’t know, as Kastor himself doesn’t seem interested in the “trivialities” of romance. The only woman I saw him making eyes at was Jokaste, the daughter of a once great family. Then again, I have a feeling he was only looking, or glaring, because her and I were speaking. Kastor shouldn’t worry though, as I don’t exactly see her as a potential bride. But back to the matter, I’m delighted an invitation to the wedding came with your letter. Count this as my acceptance, I will be there.

Struggling Romantic,

Damen V.

A few more letters came and went before the wedding came roaring up like a rouge storm. Summer once more, a year after that noon spent on the sloping riverbank holding hands with Damen. Guests had been pouring in over the past few days, Laurent exhausted from going back and forth greeting the important ones. Torveld from Patras, kind but a little too comfortable making eyes at Laurent. He was eighteen now, more attentions should be expected, but still. Then there was Halvik, a tribal chief from the Ver-Vassel region of Vask. She said Laurent had cow-eyes. He liked her.

Today was the last day before the ceremony. They were only waiting on one more delegation to arrive. In the meantime, Laurent was hiding away in the family crypt, seated beside his mother. He often came down here when he felt like speaking to her, even if it was a one-sided conversation.

“He wished me a happy birthday in his last letter, saying this year’s gift is another to be given in person. Why am I nervous? It’s no different than it has been over the last four years.” Laurent tilted his head back, eyes roaming the delicate flowers carved into the stone of Hennike’s resting place. He sat in the silence, letting his thoughts run, something he didn’t often do.

What was this exciting gift that couldn’t be delivered like normal? What made it so special? The way Damen talked about it in the letter made it sound like something big he’s excited to give.

It was awhile until footsteps padded down the stone steps, candlelight flickering against the stones and creating shifting shadows. Auguste’s head appeared in the stairwell, a gentle smile on his face. “Knew I’d find you here. The herald just reported, the Akielon delegation is approaching.”

While he was excited to see Damen as always, Laurent just groaned at all the impending formalities he will have to put himself through once more. He wished his tranquility hadn’t been interrupted so soon. He wished he could just have a little longer and that his mother was actually there. Peeling himself from the stone like a ragdoll coming to life, Laurent made his way over to follow his brother back into the hall.

When the greeting came, Laurent essentially ran through it on autopilot. The only shock was Damen hadn’t been alone, Theomedes and Kastor had come too. It all went smoothly though, and after their welcome, the two kings stepped aside for a “talk”.

Exhaustion had caught up to Laurent, and yet he still beckoned Damen to follow. They silently walked the halls of the palace until finally they were alone in his room. 

Laurent fell back onto his bed, peeling his boots off with a moan. “I feel like I’ve been standing for three days straight. Curse Auguste and his need to show off by having such a large and diplomatic wedding.”

“It’s an interesting move,” Damen replied, sitting himself on the lounging couch. “Creating a welcoming and peaceful environment, yet opening Vere at a time that could be considered vulnerable. Still, I think it works as a means of establishing friendliness and companionship to fellow nations.”

Laurent hummed softly, considering the perspective. “I suppose being friendly and welcoming helps put Vere in a good light. You and your tactical brain, Damianos.”

Damen’s warm laugh filled the room. Following the sweet sound, Laurent eyed where his fellow prince was perched. The way Damen sat, relaxed and legs slightly spread, it made him shiver. Then their eyes met. Something passed between them, but neither spoke it.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Tsk.” Laurent rolled his eyes, but grinned. “You said the extravagant gift for my eighteenth will be given in person. Hand it over, you barbarian.” He made grabby hands, probably looking like an impetulant child.

Of course, this made Damen laugh again. “Ah ah ah, not so soon. I have a plan, so be patient.”

“Oh? Going to sabotage the wedding and steal the moment from the happy couple?” Laurent rolled over now, watching Damen with his head hanging off the bed. 

“No, I’m not that cruel.” A stomach butterfly inducing sound left Damen’s throat as he stretched. “Tomorrow night, when the celebrations die down. I’ll give you your gift then.” His eyes turned to Laurent, full of their ever-present intensity. It made him blush.

“Fine, tomorrow night.”

The wedding was beautiful, it couldn’t have gone any better. Auguste and Rosalie were beaming with pure joy, the kingdom infected by their union. Celebrations were raging up and down the streets while those in the palace moved on for the party that came after. It was a ball with a buffet of all sorts of delights, a traditional celebration and dance.

Laurent stood on the sidelines of the ballroom, a glass of white wine in his hands. He wasn’t exactly drinking it, but it’s one of the few alcohols he tolerates. All his attention was on the center of the room, watching as Auguste looked at Rosalie like she was the sun, twirling her in a slow dance, her dress glittering in the candlelight. 

This was love. So entranced by the sweet moment, Laurent didn’t hear Damen walk up until the other cleared his throat.

“I have a feeling they will be very happy.” He mused gently, smiling down at Laurent.

“I couldn’t have picked anyone better,” Laurent replied. He took the time to take in their surroundings, seeing it was just him and Damen along the towering windows lining the walls of the ballroom.

Damen hummed, sipping his own drink as he watched the dance too. “So this means Vere will have a queen once more. How will that work? Will there be a coronation ceremony sometime within the week?”

Oh? Did Damen really not know? Laurent made an amused sound, swirling his glass. “Rosalie cannot be queen until the marriage is consummated before the council.”

It was silent between them. Laurent glanced over, seeing the furrow of Damen’s brow as he processed the information. And then, “They have to have sex in front of the council?!”

He had to hold back a laugh. Faking a sip of his drink was the only way Laurent could stifle his amusement. “Why so flustered. You Akielons wrestle naked.”

“That is sport!” Poor Damen sounded so distressed as he said it. He seemed to be going through every stage of grief before finally settling. “Do you… need to witness the consummation?”

“I technically could, but I think that’s the last thing I’d like to see.” Now Laurent was shivering in disgust. He knew it was the way Vere was, something well into their history which never bothered him, but the prospect of witnessing his own brother doing such a thing wasn’t a tasteful thought.

At that moment, Auguste and Rosalie’s dance ended. The couple bowed as the guests roared in applause. It would now be time that everyone else was allowed to let go and enjoy the floor. Laurent would use the time to slip away somewhere private, as his tolerance for socializing would be wearing thin.

Right as he peeled away from the wall, Damen’s hand was extended out towards him. Laurent froze, blinking down at it like some foreign object.

“What’s this?”

“A dance. Don’t tell me you planned to mope around the sides of the room all night.” Damen grinned at him, the expression loose and confident. It was an invitation, not a demand.

Taking a moment, remembering the feeling of their hands clasped by the river, Laurent reached out and slotted his hand in Damen’s once more. It felt natural like it was breathing, like nature had designed it to be this way.

Damen led them out to the dance floor, before clasping Laurent’s left hand in his right, and placing his other hand on Laurent’s waist. It was a normal pose for dance, and yet the sheer size of Damen’s hand gripping his waist felt like a scandalous act that needed to be behind closed doors.

“Oh? Since when have you learned the art of Veretian dance?” Talking was only natural when Laurent was nervous, and right now he needed to say something lest he get too lost in those stunning brown eyes.

“I began lessons after receiving the wedding invitation,” Damen replied casually. “I figured it would be useful.”

Of course he was fully prepared. Learning to dance for the occasion wasn’t much different from the other cultural exchanges they’ve both participated in. 

“Useful indeed.”

The dance wasn’t too slow, nor too fast. They swayed to the tune of the orchestra, gliding across the floor like a swan on water. Laurent had to admit, Damen’s lessons paid off. There was no stutter in his step and his posture remained perfect.

They didn’t look away from each other. It was like the entire ballroom faded into a colorful daze as all Laurent could see was Damen. Nothing else existed, no guests dancing around them, no music, no nothing, just them.

Laurent had no clue how long they’d been dancing until they had stopped. He honestly felt dizzy now that they weren’t moving.

Damen grinned down at him, hand still on his waist. “How about we step outside? A private garden or balcony, somewhere to relax.”

“We’ve only had one dance.”

“Seven, actually.” Damen corrected like it was nothing.

WHAT?! Laurent blinked, looking around. It did seem later, and most guests seemed to be thinning out. They had danced for seven turns?!

“Ah, yes. A private garden, I really do need the air.” Laurent took hold of Damen’s arm, guiding him from the ballroom. He sensed Auguste watching as they left, knowing the exact shiteating grin on his brother’s face. 

Alone once more. No stuffy ballroom. No murmur of guests or music. Just the quiet of night and smell of night blooming flowers.

Laurent sat himself on one of the cool cement benches. Closing his eyes, he took a very long and very steady breath.

“Feeling alright?” Damen was standing in front of him, his posture lax and also a bit exhausted. Well, he should be exhausted after dancing seven turns. Do Akielons even dance that much?

“I’m fine. A bit of breathing room is all I needed.” After a few more breaths, Laurent lifted his head.

By now, Damen was seated beside him, their legs touching. “I haven’t forgotten about your gift.”

Laurent sure had. He just raised his chin, eyeing Damen. “Well, it must be small if it fits in those clothes of yours.”

That just got an amused huff from Damen. “It’s not physical.” Turning so their bodies faced one another, Damen took Laurent’s hands in his. He then paused for a moment, looking at the stars and taking a breath before leveling his gaze once more. “Laurent of Vere, would you do me the honor of allowing me to court you?”

Certainly the sound of his heart bursting from his chest could be heard all over Vere. Court him? Damen truly wished to court him?

He wasn’t sure how long he was silent. Laurent could only hope his expression wasn’t anything wildly offensive. Probably not since Damen still looked gentle and patient.

“Yes. Yes you may.” His heart was beating even faster.

Damen grinned, a bright, toothy grin. He softly squeezed Laurent’s hands where they were still held as a comforting gesture. “May I kiss you?”

Was that even a question?  

“Yes. Yes you may.”

If Damen noticed the repetition of the answer, he didn’t say anything. Very carefully, allowing time for Laurent to call it off if he pleased, Damen leaned forward with a soft tilt to his head. Shyly, unsure of how it’s done himself, Laurent leaned forward to meet Damen halfway.

And there they met in the center. It was gentle, tentative and curious. All Laurent could think about were how warm and soft Damen’s lips were. They were perfect, the kiss was perfect.

Tonight, the stars would be their only witness as they crossed the line from friends to something more.