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Chapter Text

Damen raced north on horseback at breakneck speed. He had woken at an inn still half a day’s ride from Arles, and he planned on making it there before midday. They just traded mounts at the last town they passed, so they wouldn't even need to stop to rest the horses. They had left before breakfast was served at the inn, and no one would eat until they got to the palace at Arles, unless they'd packed it themselves and could eat it at a gallop. If any of his guard were grumbling, it was lost in the wind roaring in Damen's ears. Damen couldn't eat now if he tried anyway. His stomach was knotted with anticipation for what he would find at the Veretian capital.

At least the exhilaration of the ride was preventing his mind from running wild with the possibilities. He couldn't lay awake at night and wonder when he collapsed with exhaustion at the end of each day. He couldn't marinate over the empty bed when he left it before first light each morning. They had kept this punishing pace for two weeks now. He and his five best riders. He would have gone alone if he thought he'd be faster, but his father insisted on him bringing at least this amount of guards with him. And now they were closing in on their destination.

--

Communication from Vere to Akielos usually went to Damen. It made sense, with his close friendship with Prince - now King - Auguste, and his close... personal relationship with the younger prince. The majority of the correspondence received was personal or casual in nature anyway, and updates or requests for information were better received by Damen and delivered to his father, the King, by his own son. King Aleron and now King Auguste would only write specifically to King Theomedes when it was a formal correspondence from Vere to Akielos as one sovereignty to another.

Damen's own communication had slowed to a trickle after this hellish year, so when the messenger held the latest package from Vere away from Damen and said it was for the King himself, Damen's curiosity got the better of him. He followed the messenger into his father's office to see what it was about. He had his own missive from the messenger, sealed by Auguste so it was not the letter he had been anticipating for the last few months, but that could wait until he was alone in his rooms. He couldn't pass up knowing what Vere's official word to Akielos was about after what seemed like months of silence.

He took a seat in front of the king's desk after the messenger dropped his parcel, and pointedly looked at the wrapped pile of correspondence until Theomedes got the hint. 

“Oh, did you want me to look at this now?”

Damen didn't rise to the bait. “Whenever is convenient," he said casually, but he kept looking at the pile until Theomedes sighed and took it up.

“Let's just look through it now, shall we?" He unwrapped the string bundling the various letters, and started sifting through them. "Ah, an official notice from Vere. What could this be?”

Damen sat up straighter to get a look at the mysterious missive. His heart picked up its pace at the familiar ink. He longed to run his finger over the loopy script and textured paper that had become so dear to him, though he noted that this particular missive seemed more ostentatious than normal. He smiled at himself realizing that he had missed even this small extravagance when it signified Vere's royal family.

He settled himself and tried to control his face as he watched Theomedes break the seal and scan the contents. He was on the edge of his seat when his father raised his eyebrows and read over it again. He would not ask what was in the letter, but he was staring with the unspoken intention at the king's face when Theomedes finally lowered it back to the desk.

Theomedes pinned Damen with an impenetrable look as he explained. “Akielos has been invited to celebrate the impending nuptials of Vere's crown prince.”

Damen's breath left his body as he thought he misheard. “The crown prince? But that's…”

“Prince Laurent,” his father finished for him, still watching Damen closely.

Damen looked away from his father, unable to meet his eye. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, just staring into the middle distance trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “Who?” he asked, voice sounding strange to his own ears.

Theomedes consulted the invitation once more. “A daughter of the empire. Alaia. Of Vishkar's Tribe.”

“A daughter…” Damen couldn't seem to finish a complete thought in his head. His mind was stuck on the idea that Laurent could be getting married. To someone else. That he could be finding out about it from a letter sent to his father. He clutched the missive in his own hand, suddenly unwilling to know its contents. He sat there in silence while his father regarded him from behind the desk. 

Finally, the king addressed him directly to break the spell. “Will you be representing Akielos on this happy occasion?”

That snapped Damen back to the reality of the present. He needed to act. “Of course," he said, his voice returning to its usual commanding timbre. "I'll leave today.”

“Damianos,” Theomedes said gently. More gently than Damen had ever heard his father speak to him before. He didn't like it. “The wedding is not for two months yet.”

Damen felt a burst of energy to do anything he could to reject that notion. He stood from his chair abruptly to start making moves. “If there is a wedding. I'm leaving today. If I were to take the time to prepare the usual company, and then travel with the delegation, then there would be no time left to do anything about it." Damen wondered if this was why Vere sent the notice when it did. He didn't want to think about it.

“And what of your duties to Akielos?" Theomedes asked sternly, remaining in his seat. "Do they go unfulfilled for a season as you take an extra month's vacation?”

“Father.” Damen looked steadily back at the king. “This is my duty to Akielos. I am going to Vere now to secure Akielos' future. I think you understand that. The kyroi will be there in two months' time, as you said. I will resume regular meetings with them at that time, and keep up with my official correspondence in the meantime. You are still on the throne. I think you and Kastor can manage the palace duties without me for the extra month.” Kastor would be thrilled, but Damen didn't want to think about that either.

Theomedes fixed Damen with a weighty look. "You are decided then?"

"I am," Damen answered without hesitation. "Are you disappointed?" he asked with a trace of trepidation.

Theomedes shook his head. "You know my feelings on Vere," Damen tensed because Theomedes famously hated Vere, "but you also know my feelings on King Auguste and Prince Laurent." Damen relaxed minutely because he knew his father always respected the royal brothers. "I have long since accustomed myself to the idea of a Veretian on our throne alongside you, Damianos. I believe it will be a time of peace and prosperity, the likes of which Akielos has never known. However," he added wryly, "I do wish that you had actually considered this thoughtfully and thoroughly instead of just following your damned heart straight into the center of that snake pit, no matter the cost to Akielos."

Damen was surprised by his father's ready acceptance, seeing as Theomedes had only known Vere as an enemy for most of his life. However, he took offence at the notion that he hadn't thought this through. "I am the crown prince, father. Akielon waters run through my blood and her winds have shaped me into the man that stands before you. She is constantly in my thoughts. I am Akielos. Don't you realize? I could never have fallen so completely for someone who was not good for me, or for Akielos."

Theomedes nodded his approval at Damen's declaration, but then sighed. “You still cannot leave today. It will take a week at least to assemble your company. The rest of the Akielon noble delegation can follow at a more appropriate time.”

“I will leave tomorrow," Damen relented as much as he dared. "I do not need a company. I have myself and my sword. And I will be traveling at a pace no raider could catch me."

“Damianos, do not be so stubborn that you lose all good judgment," Theomedes growled, frustration becoming evident as he rapped the point of his index finger against the desk. "You must take no less than forty men to form your guard. Do not forget you are traveling to a foreign nation, one that was an enemy not ten years ago.”

“I cannot wait for that large a group of men, who do not even know they are about to be called upon, to be ready to travel," Damen exclaimed, exasperated. "And I certainly cannot name forty men that could keep up with me. I will pick up Nikandros on the way.”

Theomedes' irritation was obvious in every line of his face as he responded to his son. “You are hard headed, and it will not always get you what you want.”

Damen faced his father with a calm borne of certainty. “In this instance, it is the only thing that will.”

Theomedes looked for a long time at his heir, and saw the resolute decision made there. He sighed again, and compromised the best the old king could. “How many men do you have that can keep your pace?”

Damen didn't hesitate to name his five fastest riders and sent a servant to alert them of their impending departure. The king looked doubtfully at his son for choosing such a small contingent, but Damen insisted the pace he was planning on maintaining would not be for the faint of heart. Theomedes shook his head and muttered as Damen turned to go, “please do not kidnap the crown prince of Vere.”

Damen grimaced at that but made no promises. The truth was that he did not know what awaited him in Vere. He was not going to steal Laurent away against his will, but there was not much else that would stop him if Laurent wanted to come with him.

--

Damen shook his head at the memory. He wouldn't need to force Laurent into anything. He just needed to be in front of him again, and the world would right itself. Nothing could be wrong if - no, when - he and Laurent saw to it together. He dug his heels into his horse once more to see if he could squeeze out any more speed from the beast.

--

Nikandros had not been able to join him after all. Not all that surprising, given that Damen showed up on his doorstep with zero notice. But Nikandros had gotten an invitation of his own and knew exactly what he was doing there.

He ushered Damen into a private room and hugged him tight when Damen collapsed against him. "Did you know?" Nik asked, though he could probably guess by Damen's sudden and disheveled appearance.

"No," Damen confirmed anyway, pulling his head up. "I didn't even - I didn't even know it was an option. Vask -?"

Nikandros was watching him seriously, hand still on his shoulder. Damen felt like it was all that was keeping him upright. 

"I didn't know either," Nik told him. Damen hadn't even considered that he might have known. "I communicate with him and Auguste often, especially since Vask has been threatening our borders. They've always had a good alliance, and I would ask them for advice or assistance in communicating."

Damen was at a loss. Of course Nikandros communicated with his neighboring sovereign. Delpha was a border province after all. But all that was consuming him right now was jealousy that Nik had probably received a letter in Laurent's hand more recently than he. And frustration at the brothers of Vere's secrecy.

"I knew that he went to Vask for negotiations, but... not this. I don't know why he wouldn't say," Nik continued.

"Don't you?" Damen said bitterly. 

"I suppose I do," Nik nodded. "But why...."

"I'm going there to find out." Damen interrupted seriously.

"Of course," Nik slapped his shoulder. "I'm coming with you."

Damen felt a rush of gratitude for his oldest and most loyal friend. He wanted to take him up on it. Wanted all the support he could get right now. But Nik was a new kyros. In a province that was currently under threat. 

Damen tried to give him a smile. "I thank you for that," and he truly meant it, "but can you really do that right now?" 

Nik thought for a moment, but tried to reassure Damen. "I can. I have good people in place here. I can delegate some roles, and get a messenger route to Vere put together, and... maybe a cease agreement for the raiders?"

Damen smiled for what felt like the first time in a week. Good old Nikandros always ready to come to his aid. "Do those things then. Do whatever you need to. Settle the matters currently at hand. And you can join me when you are ready. I am afraid I cannot wait for you."

Nik nodded. "I understand. It shouldn't take me more than two weeks to temporarily stabilize the place." He thought. "Maybe the fiancée can help me with communication in the interim. Think she has a direct route to Empress Vishkar?" 

Damen gave him a look to show him how funny he thought that was. 

In the end, Damen and his riders stayed long enough to eat a satisfying meal, rest the night, and stock up on supplies. Nikandros would follow them with a larger contingent after he appointed others to fill the holes he would leave behind, settled the current skirmishes, and put a temporary cease agreement in place. First thing in the morning, Damen was on his way again.

--

And now he was closing in on Arles, more than a month earlier than anyone would have expected. In the distance, he spotted a beacon of golden hair glinting in the sunlight on the steps of the palace. It spurred him on for the last length, until he finally saw it was sandier than he remembered, and atop a much broader frame. Auguste.

Damen dismounted before his horse even came to a full stop, and was moving towards the Veretian King with the same urgency. He must have looked frightful - dusty, cut up, and bruised from his travels - truly the warrior prince to the barbarian nation Vere's nobles always accused him of being. He had a fleeting thought that he could be pierced by an arrow for approaching the king with such haste, but he had larger worries drowning it out. Auguste's perfect calm in the face of Damen's agitation was probably all that saved him.

Not waiting for the official introductions, Damen climbed the palace stairs to meet Auguste and clasp his arm in greeting, harder than was probably necessary. Unruffled, Auguste called out, “My brother of Akielos. We welcome you to Vere.” He added in a lower tone, “though it is unheralded.” 

Damen responded for the audience, “My brother of Vere, I appreciate the hospitality.” He then pulled Auguste in to pat him roughly on the back and matched his hushed, fierce tone, “It is not my fault we likely outran the messenger. Where is he?” 

Auguste did him the favor of not pretending to be oblivious about who he was talking about. He kept a hand on Damen's shoulder so they could speak between the two of them, squeezing in retaliation to Damen's rough handling. The tension must have been visible to those close by. “My brother is overseeing wedding preparations with his fiancée. You will see both of them at the welcome feast we are hurrying to prepare for you.” 

Damen tried to keep the hurt and anger off of his face, but he was sure he failed. His voice was clipped, but his head was still bowed towards Auguste as he responded. “Then shall I air my grievances here on the steps, or can I have a private audience with the king?” 

Auguste gave him a warning look and lifted his head to raise his voice for his guard to hear, “I am sure you and your company must be tired from the journey.” He looked over Damen's small, disheveled accompaniment with unimpressed deprecation. “Enguerren here can show your people to their rooms. If you want to follow me, I can escort you to your usual sleeping quarters.” 

Tired and cranky and finally having someone to direct his frustrations at, Damen followed at Auguste's heels. Once they were out of earshot of the others, he let Auguste see the full force of his displeasure. “My usual sleeping quarters. You are taking me to Laurent's rooms then?” 

Auguste stopped short and rounded on Damen. He never was as good at hiding his annoyance as Laurent was. “Gods above, Damianos, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Damen matched his energy, spoiling for a fight. “You took the question right out of my mouth, Auguste. What the actual fuck?” 

Auguste looked around them for anyone listening in, but they were in an empty hallway. “Can this wait until we are in your rooms, or must we discuss this in the corridor? Can it at least wait for a room with a door?” 

“There's a surprisingly comfortable broom cupboard up ahead that Laurent and I have made extensive use of," Damen commented, happy to continue riling Auguste up. "I can tell you exactly how soundproof it is, and how much weight the shelving can hold and what positions you can-” 

Auguste grabbed Damen by the arm and dragged him into the nearest room. A lesser used office by the looks of it. Damen tried to shake out of his grip, but Auguste held fast, and Damen felt his anger mount to match his frustration. He pushed Auguste's shoulder to get him to back off, but Auguste just used his grip on Damen's arm to twist it behind his back, and they ended up in a ridiculous scuffle that was nowhere near appropriate for a king and a visiting crown prince.

"For fuck's sake, Damen!" Auguste yelled as Damen tripped him up and he stumbled back, having to release Damen's arm. "We don't see you for over a year, and the first thing you do after you show up unannounced at our doorstep, looking like you just stepped out of a tavern brawl, is spew vulgarity about my brother and try to fucking fight me?"

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Damen was lost to his baser instincts, and keen on giving his frustrations this physical outlet. "I'm not fucking trying to fight you," he growled, trying to get Auguste in a wrestling hold. "I'm fucking going to fight you."

"I'm in my laces!" Auguste exclaimed, scandalized. "This is grossly unfair!"

"Then take them off!" Damen spat, getting a grip on the front laces of Auguste's jacket, and pulling. 

"I'm also a fucking king," Auguste returned, trying to push Damen's hand off of him. "Or did you forget that the last time you were here was for my coronation. Over a year ago!"

"Some king. I was fighting a fucking border war!" Damen yelled, twisting his fist so that some of Auguste's laces popped satisfyingly from their eyelets. "Which you didn't even come to my aid for!"

"You didn't call for us! And it was a border dispute, not an actual war. The southern raiders aren't associated with the capital. We would've just escalated it. And Vere was mourning." Auguste stopped trying to push Damen away. "What would you have asked of me?"

"I would've come to you." Damen panted, dropping his hands. "If the positions had been reversed."

"My father had just died. I was suddenly king and... I was still reeling from his sudden death. We literally got out of mourning dress a month ago." Auguste ran a hand through his mussed up hair, further dislodging his circlet, and blew out a big breath. "We did what we could. From here."

That sent Damen's hackles back up, and he bristled. “Right. You cozied on up to your precious Vask. Or sent your brother to do it for you. Very helpful." He brushed some of the dust off of his shoulders and arms. "You are lucky you sent my people elsewhere. I imagine their response to you manhandling their crown prince would create an international incident."

Auguste looked down at his jacket that was half torn down the front, and responded wryly, “Yes, your five extremely weary people would have been very upset. Damen. Stop this. Laurent is getting married. Her family will be here in just a couple weeks. You cannot be running your mouth about the palace like this. You will embarrass him. Not to mention yourself. What is your plan for arriving here like this?” 

Damen ran his fingers through his dusty curls in exasperation. “To find out what the hell is going on! To ask you why you are forcing him into a marriage he could never want. To convince him to run away with me if it comes to it.” 

“Sounds like you are the one intent on creating an international incident,” Auguste muttered. Then louder, and more earnestly, “I haven't forced him into anything. Surely you know me better than that. Laurent has always been free to choose his own bride - er, partner.” 

Damen stalled a little at that. “And he chose a daughter of the empire?” 

Auguste shrugged. “Honestly, I was surprised too. But he couldn't choose a Patran princess without scorning Torveld, and I don't think he dared taking up with another Akielon,” Auguste couldn't meet Damen's eye when he said that, “and I think he desired a more politically advantageous match than marrying noble blood of Vere. Besides the absolute scene it would have been in this country if it was known Laurent was looking for a spouse, with noblemen literally clawing each other's eyes out just for a look at him. Vask was the best choice. Especially with the unrest at the borders,” he added pointedly.

“Why didn't you contact me?” Damen cut off Auguste's explanations. His anger was finally losing steam and turning into sadness. 

“I did. You might have left before the messenger even got there. Akielos got an invitation. Your whole family was invited, and the kyroi. And I sent a separate one to you personally.” Damen had actually forgotten about the personal missive from Auguste in the middle of all of this, but now he was glad that he never read it. 

“I meant - before that. When Laurent was looking for a - a spouse.” Damen fiddled with the straps of his riding leathers, unable to search Auguste's expression for fear of what he might find there.

Auguste stared at Damen for a long moment while Damen avoided eye contact. Damen wondered if he was going to answer him, but then, “we hadn't seen you in a long time. Even your letters were getting less and less frequent. Laurent said you weren't interested in marriage.” 

Damen looked up at him in disbelief. “I was in the middle of a border war!" he exclaimed again. Then softer, "How could he say that? How could you believe it?” 

“I didn't at first," Auguste said carefully. "I didn't believe my friend could treat my brother so callously.” Auguste's anger regained some of its steam. “But he showed me it was true. You made no promises to him. You weren't even officially courting him. Then his twentieth birthday came and went and... I even convinced him to show me that letter because I didn't understand, which he finally did, begrudgingly." Auguste gave him a hard look. "Those were not the words of a lover, Damen. I believe I send similar updates of my life to my great aunt in Kempt.” 

Damen flushed red. “My affections were promises. And my actions. I wasn't dallying with him for conquest or trivial fun. I couldn't do that with a foreign prince, much less my close friend's little brother, much less Laurent." Damen was frustrated trying to explain himself. Auguste was not even the person who deserved his explanations right now, but he felt the need to defend himself. "We do not have official courting practices in Akielos. Nothing so formal, or performative. We are straightforward with our affections and desires. I can dally with common blood, slaves, servants, but pursuing noble blood, or goddamn royalty, is seen as intent to marry, unless expressly discussed differently." Damen ran his hand through his hair again, gripping the ends in agitation. "I even discussed marriage with Laurent! I asked him if a prince of Vere was free to choose his own spouse, if they could be male, or foreign. He told me not until he was twenty-one. And that even then, the king had to bless the marriage, or his status in court would be forfeited.”

Now Auguste flushed at this intimate look into Damen and Laurent's private conversations. Or maybe at the misunderstanding of it all, Damen couldn't tell through his own irritation. Auguste should have known his feelings on all of this already.

“He probably thought you had a purely academic interest in Vere’s customs," Auguste finally said, awkwardly. "For however clever Laurent is, he has always been a little dense when it comes to intimate conversations.”

Damen wanted to cry. Or more likely punch a hole in the stone wall. “And? Was he also wrong? Why is he getting married before his twenty-first spring?”

Auguste shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable. “He meant princes of Vere weren't free to choose their own spouse before the age of majority, or twenty-one. Before that, requests for courtship have to be approved by the king.” Damen stared accusingly at the king responsible for accepting this current courtship. Auguste finally had the grace to look a little apologetic, but still he tried to make Damen understand. “Damen, no one has ever been unclear about wanting to court Laurent. My father and I have been taking and rejecting courtship offers in his name since his fifteenth birthday. The letters he received from admirers are… not unclear. I've had to burn a few for their sheer… for the explicitness of the… imagery. And, once again, your letters were… mundane. By comparison.”

Damen felt his hands curl into fists at the audacity people have had since Laurent was just a boy, and having to be compared to them. And the return of the embarrassment at having his personal musings be read by anyone but Laurent washed over him.

“I am not a poet, as I'm sure you know. I sent book upon book of poetry to speak for me there, as I would have no hope of outdoing it. My private letters,” Auguste winced at his inflection, “were my own fantasy. It has been a long, hard, lonely year. After a long day I would picture coming home to your brother, and unloading the details of my day. The big events to get his take on, sure, but especially the small details that would make up sharing a life together. Ones unimportant enough that you wouldn't share with others, but ones that fill the conversations when you spend hours of everyday in each other's company, sharing your thoughts and yourselves with one another.”

Auguste's face went through a lot of expressions during Damen's speech, but finally settled on pity. Damen didn't love that look directed at him. “Damen… everyone sends Laurent books of poetry. It's not a secret he loves reading. And I… I didn't know,” he finished lamely. Damen nodded once at this. It seemed at least Auguste finally understood. Auguste asked, “what are you going to do?”

Damen took a deep breath. He thought through his plan that he formulated on the way here. Honestly, he didn't get much past seeing Laurent and getting him in his arms again. But he figured he should warn Auguste, since he was definitely here to create an international incident. “Talk to Laurent. Be clear about my intentions. Offer my, offer my hand instead.”

Auguste still had that pitying look on his face, and Damen hated it, wanted to look away from it. “Damen. He - he chose this. Chose her. And you know how careful he is with his choices. The engagement has been announced. Invitations sent. He's getting married in just over a month.”

Damen understood that, but he wasn't going to let it happen quietly. “So do I have your blessing?”

“What?" Auguste asked, confused. "For what?” 

“Laurent is still under twenty-one," Damen explained, not willing to beat around the bush anymore. "And I don't want anyone to be able to say anything that happens after this is unallowable because I didn't wear the right fucking color ribbon on my wrist or something. I am asking the Prince of Vere's king for his blessing to formally ask the Prince's hand in marriage.”

“Damen… you've always had it.” Auguste said, still pitying.

Damen pushed, because he wanted to be clear. “But do I have it now? Because I'm going to try to get him to break his current engagement, Auguste.”

Auguste sighed. “If Laurent wants to marry you, I won't stand in your way. I always said he could choose his own spouse, and that hasn't changed. Though your timing is less than ideal. We're lucky the current arrangement is with Vask, and not, say, Patras." Damen scoffed at the insinuation that there were so many options for Laurent's affections, but Auguste went on like he didn't hear. "Vere and Vask’s relationship is probably strong enough to endure the insult.” Auguste thought some more. “Probably. I could.. think of something for reparations. Laurent's happiness is worth a territory or two, surely.” Damen started to smile at his friend for being on board with his not fully formed scheme. But Auguste saw it and cut his small victory short. “But Damen, I said ‘if’. If Laurent wants to marry you. Laurent's fiancée is… he chose well. She's smart and funny and keeps up with Laurent easily in conversation and strategy. They entertain each other at banquets and parties, and he's easy with her, in a way I've only seen him with you or me. And none of that is to mention that she is a direct descendant of the Empress herself, and one of her favorites to boot. I think you'll find that they are good for each other.”

Damen scowled at the thought that the relationship he was intent on breaking up could be a happy one. He floundered in his thoughts for a moment.

“A woman, though. I didn't think he… do you know if they-”

Auguste cut him off sharply. “I don't know and I haven't asked. But what they have seems genuine.” Damen looked appropriately chastised, and Auguste took pity on him. “I don't know, Damen. He's still so young. And you know he was a late bloomer to all this." They both cringed away from the the pointedly avoided topic of why. "He could still just be figuring himself out. Maybe his type is just simply ‘warrior’," Auguste offered, waving his hand over Damen's obviously warrior form. "They spar together, and go on long rides together. I think she loves horses as much as he does. He gifted her a Kemptian horse for his courting gift, and she lit up like the sun." Auguste smiled at the memory. "They banter back and forth quick as lightning, and can rip shreds off of deserving courtiers together. She makes him laugh, like a real, genuine Laurent laugh, and you know how rare that is." Auguste grew thoughtful, though maintained his smile. "They are actually quite a bit alike, though she is impossibly wild where he is reserved. And the council hate her while not being able to rightfully disapprove of her suitability, which I think Laurent sees as a huge plus.” Auguste grinned at this, trying to bring Damen in on the joke, but Damen wasn't feeling generous. 

Damen was a little shocked, and not at all pleased with how long the list of this woman's favorable qualities was. He couldn't help the betrayed feeling growing in him as he considered Auguste's loyalties. “You like her.”

Auguste looked at Damen seriously. “I do. I already consider her family. If you succeed in breaking them up, I won't be happy to see her hurt.” Damen digested that silently. “Does that change your mind?”

Damen didn't have to think on it. He might have felt a touch more guilty about it, but he was still sure of himself. “No, it doesn't.” 

Auguste nodded. “I didn't think it would. I honestly might have thought less of you if it did.”  

Damen let his shoulders relax a little now that this first (and easier) confrontation was over. The length of the journey in the last two weeks was catching up to him, and with the adrenaline dissipating, he started to feel tired. He remembered that it had been over a year since he had seen Auguste as well, border skirmishes and dry seasons ruling his year.

“How is everything else?” Damen asked. An olive branch.

Auguste accepted the subject change gratefully, though he still looked troubled. "It has been a tough year," Auguste confirmed. When Damen raised his eyebrows for Auguste to elaborate, he continued. "Things are... rockier than when you were here last, I'm afraid."

Damen got the feeling Auguste was holding back from him, and his frustration started to grow again. He took in his friend before him, noting all the differences apparent to him now from a year ago. Auguste looked tired, and held himself stiffer. He looked like he had lost weight. He was no longer the relaxed, confident and glowing prince Damen had always known. King Auguste looked tense and unsure, and like he carried significant weight upon his shoulders.

The last time Damen was in Vere was because he had received word of Aleron's sudden death. He only received the official notice from Auguste, but Laurent had written to him, asking him to be there for Auguste, and Damen had come to support both of the brothers. He had missed the funeral rites already, but he was present for Auguste's coronation. It was a strange affair that was half mourning, half celebration, like Vere could not decide what was the correct mood to set, and as always, decided more was better. Auguste had looked grim throughout. It was sooner than either of them had expected to take the throne, and Damen's heart went out to his friend for the sharp turn his life had just taken.

He had held Laurent through the night that night, listening to his thoughts and fears and suspicions of what came next. He wondered now how much of it had come to fruition. He tried to probe delicately. "Rockier than being thrust into kingship at your father's sudden passing?"

Auguste sighed, but seemed to recognize Damen's sympathy, and softened to him. "Yes, rockier. More... uneasy. You know of Laurent's and my suspicions about our uncle's end game plans. Well, he grows more bold as time passes, and now we have found evidence of him building up rival factions that oppose my rule." At Damen's questioning glance, Auguste shrugged. "Stuff you'd expect to criticize a new and young king with, of course. I'm unreliable, untested, loose with morals and judgment. But there is also a rumor now circulating in the southern provinces questioning my legitimacy of birth. It hasn't reached Arles yet, but it's only a matter of time."

Damen took all this in, and tried to parse through it with his already tired mind. "If it hasn't reached Arles yet, how did you become aware of it?"

Auguste hesitated briefly before answering, "Laurent sniffed it out on one of his ‘fact finding missions’.”

And just like that, Damen's adrenaline skyrocketed again. He might just pass out with the irregular beating patterns of his heart today. At least then he'd finally get to rest. “I'm sorry, one of his 'fact finding'-? He is not still going out in his ridiculous disguises!" Damen burst out, throwing his hand out to the side.

Auguste was not impressed by his explosive reaction. “Oh, such outrage coming from you. I seem to recall you joining him on a few of his jaunts here and there.”

Damen was indignant. “Yes, when I am there to protect him! And within Arles' boundaries! Not in one of Vere's more unstable provinces with who exactly backing him up?”

Auguste shrugged, and Damen wanted to shove that shoulder again. “He has consented to at least take Jord and Orlant with him-”

“Oh, he’s safe then.” Damen said sarcastically. “Three men vs an uprising. Should be no problem there.”

“Here’s a piece of advice for you, though you only get the one," Auguste shot back, dry as can be, "if you are looking to win him over, forbidding him from his excursions will not ingratiate him to you.”

Damen didn't take the bait to distract him. “He cannot keep taking risks like this, not when your uncle continues to grow more bold!” He was getting worked up now. Damen hated Laurent and Auguste's uncle with a ferocity he had not previously thought himself capable of, but every year, every mention, it grew stronger.

Auguste held his hands up, placating. “Take it up with him. I've made my feelings on the matter known, and they do not differ from yours.”

Damen breathed out, and planned to take it up with Laurent later. He tried to force his mind back to the problem Auguste had mentioned. “What is this about illegitimacy? How can he expect to have any weight behind it?”

Auguste shrugged. Again. Damen was now going to just remove that shoulder. “He can't really. I have more than enough paperwork to back up my claim, as well as half the council that remember the time of my conception and birth. It's more about spreading unease among people who he seeks to back him in a claim to the throne." Auguste blew out a frustrated breath. "‘Bastard’ is still a dirty word in Vere, especially in the more remote provinces, and with our mother and father gone, there is no one to explicitly deny it. All he would need is someone willing to pretend to be a previous lover of my mother, and the fact that I am quite a bit bigger than my father ever was. It's just the type of thing to fire up superstitious folk into fighting.” 

Damen was unconvinced. “Seems like a paltry plan.”

Auguste waved away the disbelief. "It is, but it's only one of his plans. He prefers to be running many games at a time. Part of the struggle is identifying all of them. He's a bit more direct here in the capital," Auguste added, dryly. "There's been an attempt on my life, and two on Laurent's, in the past year alone.”

Everything in Damen narrowed in on that last sentence. “Attempts on- attempts on what?!” Had Auguste really just slipped that information in like it was a comment on the weather?

Auguste, however, remained calm, like this was their new normal. Damen fought that thought with his whole being. “Mine and Laurent's lives. That's what I mean when I say he is getting bolder. It is the reason Laurent went to Vask six months ago. Well, one of them. He was shoring up the empress’s backing of me, and that's when he met Alaia. It's a bit of a two part plan, really, true to his style. He also wants to get as many people between uncle and the throne as possible. And after 6 months of pestering me to get married and start producing next-in-lines to the throne so he could stick to his books, I think he took it upon himself to continue our lineage.”

Damen couldn't hear Auguste anymore. Hadn't heard anything past there had been attempts on Laurent's life. “Why didn't you tell me?” He asked a little desperately.

A flicker of annoyance was back on Auguste's face. “It's not something we want spread around the world. You don't go sending letters to rival countries, saying your own country is in a state of unrest.” 

Damen didn’t understand when he had become a stranger here. Was he really gone so long? “I'm not a rival country. I'm- Akielos backs your rule, Auguste. You have our support. My support.”

Auguste seemed to deflate somewhat, but still appeared strained. “I know that Damen. But we don't have any evidence against him yet. Laurent is sure it's Uncle, as am I, but without proof we cannot move against him.”

Damen was overwhelmed. His brain was tired, but his body was restless. “This is - this is more than I came here to fight.” Damen rubbed his forehead, needing to move. To do something. “Where is Laurent? I need to speak to him now.” 

“He's with Alaia, finalizing things for the wedding," Auguste said again firmly, and Damen's irritation spiked back up. "I don't want any of this to affect what should be a happy time for him. You will see him at dinner tonight.”

“Right,” Damen said, remembering the original reason he rushed to Vere. He also thought Auguste was delusional if he thought Laurent wasn't bothered by this already, but he kept that to himself. “I'll just go rest then.”

Auguste looked at him doubtfully, but he exited the office, holding the door for Damen. At the sound of their exit, Enguerren and Aktis came from down the hall to take their places behind them. 

Auguste eyed them suspiciously. "Where were you two?" he asked.

Enguerren replied calmly, "stationed at the ends of the corridor, your Grace."

"Not outside the door?" Auguste probed.

Enguerren flicked his eyes down to Auguste's torn laces before replying. "We thought it best to secure a perimeter where no one could overhear the King of Vere and the future King of Akielos shouting at each other." Aktis just looked sheepishly at Damen. 

"Hm," Auguste said thoughtfully, "good decision." Then he looked back at Damen. "Shall we?"

Damen fell into step beside Auguste. The king showed Damen the rest of the way to his rooms, and then left him to it.

Chapter Text

Damen, of course, had no intention of resting until he saw Laurent, and after a quick wash to rid himself of the travel grime, and donning a fresh chiton, he went in search of his beloved.

Laurent eluded him for the majority of the day, but the signs of an impending wedding were everywhere, grating on Damen's already frayed nerves. Sample flower arrangements on display in the hall, cloth merchants showing off fabrics and designs, servants dashing this way and that, sharing lists. Damen even passed some pets that were planning a week’s worth of entertainments. When there was less than an hour left until dinner, Damen figured Laurent must be in his rooms getting dressed for the feast, so he just went straight there. 

The way was familiar to Damen, having made this trek countless times before. He had spent hours in Laurent's rooms talking and eating, playing strategy games, or just watching Laurent read. He learned the ins and outs of Veretian fashion in this room as he stumbled through learning the intricate laces that covered Laurent's form. Even the face at the door he saw now was familiar, confirming Damen's assumption that this is where Laurent was. Jord was posted at the door, with another guard Damen didn't know, and he showed no outward surprise seeing Damen march up like he expected entry. Damen noted once again how well trained Jord was, but when he went to pull open the door for himself, Jord held up a hand.

“Is His Highness expecting you?” 

“If he isn't, he should be,” Damen replied, annoyed at the delay, and wanting to just rip down this final barrier. “I just got here, Jord. I haven't even seen him yet. Let me through.”

The other guard’s eyes widened at Damen's audacity, and Damen made a note to tell Laurent this one could use more training. Jord’s side eye, though, told him that he already noted it. Jord took his raised hand, and used it to rap on the door. “The crown prince of Akielos to see you, sir.” 

There was shuffling inside the room, and then it opened to reveal Laurent at long last to Damen's ravenous eyes. He was just in his shirtsleeves and pants, one sleeve still unlaced, and he took Damen's breath away as always. It looked like he had grown more broad and more muscle in the year that Damen was away, and his hair shined as it always did, clearly having been lightened further in the sun as Vere's summer had just ended. His full pink lips were curved upwards as if he was greeting an old friend, and his fathomless blue eyes sparkling up at him held Damen hostage. He might have grown slightly taller since Damen had last seen him too, but he still needed to crane his head back to look Damen in the eye.

“Damen?” Laurent asked, eyes blinking up at him in question. 

Damen was speechless. Finally having Laurent in front of him again had wiped all other thoughts from his brain. He couldn't have explained all his reasons for being here if he tried anyway, especially not in front of Jord and some yet untrained guard. So without anything to say for himself, he stepped forward until he crowded Laurent back into the room. The unknown guard's eyes got even wider as he turned to watch the spectacle, but Damen just shut the door behind him, and could hear the muffled sounds of Jord reprimanding the new guy through it. All of Damen's focus was on the man in front of him though, and when they were finally, blissfully alone, Damen cupped Laurent's cheeks between both of his hands and brought their faces close together. 

He could feel Laurent's breath ghosting across his lips, quickened with surprise, and he ached for him. Mind still empty of everything except the man he was now holding, all he could get out was, “Laurent,” before his lips descended and he kissed him.

His mind settled into a fuzzy awareness at the feeling of Laurent's lips finally against his own again, but as soon as he registered that Laurent was kissing him back, he took more control to walk them back until he could fit Laurent's hips against the table and deepened the kiss. Laurent sweetly opened his mouth and allowed Damen entry, all of their muscle memory from a year ago coming into play. Their tongues brushed against each other, and Damen felt like he could finally breathe again.

Damen poured everything he was feeling into the kiss. That he hadn't seen or touched Laurent in over a year. That he had thought they had a lifetime together, but Laurent had agreed to marry someone else. That Laurent could have died, and Damen would have been all the way in Ios and not have known. He was still cupping Laurent's face, but now he let his hands wander just slightly. Enough to run one hand through his golden strands, and have the other drift to his neck, with his thumb brushing the sharp jawline. Laurent's hands were at his chest, and while they had gripped the fabric of his chiton tightly when Damen had started backing him up, they now released him and smoothed over the rumpled fabric. Damen gentled the kiss then, indulging in a few last drags of his lips before he pulled back, leaving their foreheads touching, and heavy breaths commingling between them. He knew he had to say something. Maybe something to explain his sudden presence in Laurent's rooms and their amorous embrace, but he didn't know where to start.

“Your guard needs more training,” he said instead.

Laurent huffed a laugh, and drew back, eyes sparkling affectionately at Damen. Damen lost his breath once again when he could see the whole picture of Laurent's face, pink cheeks, glistening red lips, and slightly mussed hair - Damen's own effect on him. 

“That's why he is paired with Jord," Laurent explained. "He is still in training.”

Damen frowned at that, thoughts of everything Auguste had told him and the kiss reeling in his head. “You can't have someone in training guarding your door. Not when there's been assassination attempts against you. Do you even know this person? Has his loyalty been properly tested?” 

Now Laurent frowned back, and dropped his hands. “Auguste told you.” 

Damen bristled at that, and dropped his own hands from Laurent's hair and neck to his upper arms. “Of course Auguste told me! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me when it happened? I was in Ios! Or - somewhere in Akielos. But I could have -” lost you, he swallowed down, “- and I wouldn't have even known! Not until the king received an official funeral announcement. Just like -” Damen cut himself off there. 

But Laurent pushed because he always did, tensing under Damen's hands. “Just like what?”

“Just like,” Damen met Laurent's eyes earnestly,  summoning his courage, “just like I found out about your wedding.”

Laurent didn't allow himself to look shocked, but he took a beat before his eyes narrowed, defenses going up, and he responded, “I fail to see the issue with any of that. We followed all correct protocols of notifying allied nations of our proceedings. Akielos received more than her due correspondence of the event, with more than just the royal family invited. A show, I hope, of our prospering relationship.”

“I thought I was more than just the royal family of an allied nation,” Damen said miserably.

Laurent took a step back now, out of Damen's reach. Damen immediately felt empty. “I see. You thought our past earned you more benefits in a relationship with Vere.”

“I didn't realize it was our past. I thought it was our present,” Damen insisted.

Laurent must have thought Damen was taking a dig at him about the kiss instead of confessing his very raw feelings, because he went on the defensive about it. “That didn't mean anything. I was just surprised by it is all. Did you think every time you came to Vere we'd fuck wildly for a month before you rode off, fucking every blond from here to Ios. Did you think once I was married, I would let you take me in the guest quarters? In my marriage bed? What about when you were married?”

The onslaught was too much for Damen, who hadn't thought about any of these things. “I thought-” I thought it would be our marriage bed, Damen couldn't say. “I didn't think any of that. I thought you felt the same way as I did,” he settled on, defeated.

Laurent looked at him, expression not giving anything away. “I did,” he finally said, and Damen's heart fluttered for just a second before Laurent crushed it once again. “But now I'm getting married.”

"But you don't -”

“It is good to see you again, Damianos,” Laurent cut him off, stopping his argument before it began, “but I really must be getting ready for the feast. For your welcome feast. I will see you there.”

“Please,” Damen begged, panic setting in at this not going how he planned. “Please, just, let me help you with your jacket. We've already lost so much time, and it will be faster if I help you.”

“I can call for a servant," Laurent said warily.

“And let them see me walking out of your room with you still only half dressed?" Damen asked, a small, hopeful smile turning up the corners of his lips. "Just let me help. I've had more than enough practice. I'll be just as quick as a servant.”

Laurent eyed Damen like he knew this was a ploy. Damen tried not to show anything on his face until Laurent finally said, “fine,” and held up the unlaced sleeve of his undershirt, “attend me.”

Damen bit back his grin as he took the step forward back into Laurent's space. He gently took Laurent's hand in his own and placed it back on his chest. Laurent shot him a look, but Damen shrugged one shoulder. “Easier angle this way.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, but kept his hand where it was. Damen took the win, and moved to start on the laces. It had been over a year since Damen had actually done this, so he started slow, not wanting to tangle the delicate strings. He found his rhythm soon enough though, and moved methodically down Laurent's forearm. He brushed his thumb against Laurent's wrist when he reached it, and heard the slightest hitch to Laurent's breath as he knotted the lace. 

Laurent took his arm back as soon as it was complete, cradling it against his own chest now. “Not quite as fast as a servant would be,” he said dryly. 

“Not slow either,” Damen countered, “just gentle. And still probably faster than making me leave, calling for a servant, and then waiting for them to arrive.” Laurent hummed noncommittally, and Damen’s smile widened just a tad at his stubbornness. “Have you already picked a jacket?”

Laurent paused before he admitted, “yes. It's laid out on my bed.”

Damen's poor mind went straight to Laurent laid out on his bed, but he forcefully pushed that image out of his head with whatever mental energy he had left. “Lead the way,” he said softly to Laurent instead. 

Laurent didn't hesitate this time as he led Damen into his bed chamber where a navy blue jacket with silver threaded patterns embroidered down the center of the chest and abdomen lay out on the bed, with silver laces undone and strewn out to the side. 

Damen focused on the jacket, instead of Laurent's scent that permeated everything in the room. He walked right over to the bed, a bed he had curled up in next to Laurent so many times before, and picked it up. 

“Ah. A back lace," he said, smiling at the memories. "My most and least favorite thing to see on you. How were you planning on doing this yourself?” 

Laurent eyed him from where he had stayed across the room. “I can get most of it done before I slip it on, and handle the sleeves on my own. Then I just need help tightening the back.”

Damen stalked over to him holding the jacket up to his body. “Lucky I am here then. This looks like it will be a perfect fit.” Laurent didn't answer, just rotated so his back was facing Damen, and Damen had to circle his arms around Laurent's body to slip his arms in before bringing the back halves together at the laces. “I was right,” he said, as he started lacing from the bottom up, “like a glove.” 

They were silent as Damen concentrated on the laces, pulling them here and there to create a seamless fit. Laurent's clothes were always works of art, and Damen made sure to take the care they deserved. When he got to the top, he leaned in to create the complicated knot Laurent showed him how to do once upon a time. He was so close in his concentration, that he could see his breath stirring the wispy hairs at Laurent's nape.

“There,” he murmured as he completed it, “all done.” He ran a finger down the length of the lace he has just tied, and Laurent almost suppressed a shudder at the contact. He couldn't quite stop his shoulders from shaking though, and Damen noticed. Finger still at the base of Laurent's spine, Damen leaned in to kiss one of those shoulders, lingering with his lips just barely brushing the fabric.

Laurent stayed silent and still, but then tilted his head slightly away from Damen, exposing more of his neck. Damen took the invitation and dragged his lips to Laurent's collar, hand snaking around to hold onto one of Laurent's hips. As his lips continued upwards to soft, exposed skin, Damen felt, more than heard, Laurent sigh. Encouraged, Damen grasped Laurent's other hip, and went to work with soft lips and small tastes up to Laurent's pulse point. Before he could lose himself and do something foolish like leave a mark, Laurent cleared his throat. Feeling the vibrations against his lips, Damen smiled against the skin. “Yes?”

Laurent didn't move away. “My sleeves.”

Damen lifted his head, and let go of Laurent's hips to circle around to face him. “Of course,” he smiled, and grasped one of Laurent's wrists. He kissed the palm once before settling the hand on one of his bare shoulders. The contact was electric, and he wondered if Laurent could feel it as well. The way he felt Laurent's hand tense over him made him think he could. From there, Damen worked on the laces of the sleeve from elbow to wrist. When he was done, he left the hand on his shoulder, and reached for the other. He gave it the same treatment, kissing the palm, and setting it on his other shoulder before lacing from elbow to wrist. When he finished, Laurent had still not moved his hands. Damen suddenly had a burning desire to know all the positions he could place Laurent in, for Laurent to not move unless expressly told to. For now, Damen just grabbed Laurent's hands with both of his, and gave each a kiss on the knuckles before releasing them. Laurent was now fully dressed, impeccable as always, and was probably expected in the great hall soon.

“See you at dinner then,” Damen said to break the spell.

It seemed to snap Laurent out of whatever reverie he was in. “Yes, see you there." His eyes flicked down Damen's body. "Wear something appropriate.”

Damen snorted. Even though he knew Laurent was just being a prick, he planned to change into something more formal. He had brought it for the wedding, but his plan was for there not to be a wedding, so now was as good of a time as ever.

He exited Laurent's rooms alone, nodded to Jord, and gave a quick look to the new guard so he could recognize him around the palace. He didn't look particularly Veretian, and Damen wondered where Laurent found him. He had a habit of picking more… unconventional people for his guard, Lazar came to mind, but they had always proved unfailingly loyal and skilled with a sword. His eyes stayed forward during Damen's perusal, so Jord must have gotten through to him about that at least. 

He took himself off to his rooms to prepare for the feast. He didn't have much time, since he spent most of the last hour with Laurent, and he would probably be late. His mind turned over their interaction as he pulled on his chiton of ivory white, with the gold patterned trim. He laced up sandals to mid calf, and pulled a deep red cape around his shoulders. He pinned it all in place with the lion pin that indicated his status as crown prince of Akielos, and then moved to the mirror over the dresser to try to tame his curls so he looked more the part. The Veretians always put out oils and different serums that were supposedly good for his hair, but he never knew how to use most of it. Laurent always looked the part of royalty. Stripped down, or coming home from a long ride smelling of horse, he always held himself regally. Even sitting in the dirt to show a group of children a coin trick, or spread out underneath Damen coming undone…

Damen sighed. He guessed his hair looked a bit better than normal, and he could hide the worst of it under his laurels. He regarded himself in the mirror. He was not used to feeling unsure of himself. He had been commanding armies since he was seventeen. And he had been sure of Laurent since the younger prince was seventeen, since before they were ever intimate. But now he was looking in the mirror trying to be something that Laurent would choose. But this is who he was. Laurent knew that. Laurent liked that a year ago. Now Damen would just have to remind him why he liked it. 

--

Damen arrived in the hall, and before anyone took notice of him (he came without his guards), he scanned the high table. Auguste, as king, was at the center of course, Damen's empty chair on his left, and Laurent on his right. Vannes was seated beside Damen's empty chair, and a woman Damen didn't recognize was seated next to Laurent. Damen did a double take, and thanked the gods no one was watching him yet. Gods, how could he forget he was about to meet Laurent's fiancée? He knew the wedding was the whole reason every person of mild importance in the four countries was descending on Vere, but when he pictured himself breaking up this particular event, he had somehow never pictured actually meeting the fiancée. Of course, until earlier today, he never pictured Laurent being happy in this match either, but the proof was right in front of his eyes.

She was pretty enough, he guessed, though in Damen's estimation anyone seated next to Laurent would pale in comparison. She had hazel eyes that sparkled with life and laughter, a cute but biggish nose, and a wide smile. Freckles covered her face, revealing a life spent in the sun - Damen wondered how she'd cope with Veretian winters - and she had wild light brown curls that she had pinned back for the night, but that were already escaping the confines.

Damen couldn't help but look back at Laurent. Laurent looked sublime, of course, but he also looked comfortable in a way Damen had never seen him at these types of events. Laurent always appeared at ease to everyone else, insouciantly poised on anything from a log to a throne, but Damen knew what a truly relaxed Laurent looked like, and this was it. He was speaking animatedly to the people on either side of him, moving his hands to express his points. Both Auguste and the woman had similar expressions of adoration on their faces, and would occasionally glance at each other, as if to share in the fact that they both enjoyed this person between them so much. 

Damen took the blow hard. This was already such a comfortable scene, and Damen was all of a sudden unsure how he fit into it. Well, in the empty seat next to Auguste, he guessed, and made his way over, trying to keep his head high, but his gait felt stiff, even to him. 

Laurent noticed him first, and petered out his story. Auguste looked to see what caught his attention, and jumped up when he saw Damen.

“Damen! Finally. I thought you had fallen asleep for the night. The long journey getting tougher as you get older?”

Damen put on a smile for his old friend, and tried not to look at Laurent. “A bit more tired than I expected, I guess, but I'm feeling much refreshed now, thank you.” A lie. He was feeling more tired than ever.

“Good to hear. You know if you need anything for your comfort, you only have to ask. You remember Lady Vannes?” Auguste waved over to Vannes like Damen hadn't met her a thousand times before. Clearly Auguste was going the overly polite route. Damen could match that.

Damen turned his smile on Lady Vannes. It felt more fragile the longer he held it, and her amused look did not help the situation. He feared she could see right through him, but he powered through it nonetheless. “Of course, I can't wait to hear if you've followed through on your promise to incorporate more Akielon sports into Vere's tournaments.”

Vannes’ smile turned wicked. “Just wrestling, and it hasn't caught on yet, but I'm still working on it.”

Auguste continued with his unnecessary introductions. “And of course, my brother, Prince Laurent.”

Laurent and his fiancée had risen to join Auguste, and Laurent now stuck out his hand. He aimed a polite smile at Damen, and Damen hated that smile. It was the fakest smile Laurent had, and Damen never wanted it aimed at him again. “Pleasure to see you as always, Prince Damianos. Have you met my fiancée, Alaia, of Vask's Central Tribe?”

Damen couldn't stand to look at that smile for one more second, so he turned his much better fake polite smile on Laurent's fiancée. “Pleasure to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you during my time here.” He went to take her fingers, as he would any lady of Akielos’ court, but she grasped his hand as an equal and gave it a firm shake. Damen adeptly hid his surprise, and returned the motion, but he glanced up at Laurent on instinct to see him bite down on a much more real smile. This pulled a genuine smile out of Damen as well, and he felt a touch more relaxed when he looked back at Alaia. 

“And I, you,” she responded. “Perhaps you can show me your Akielon traveling horses. I'd love to see the breeds that got your contingent here as fast as they did.”

“You won't be disappointed,” Laurent cut in, with true excitement. “Akielon horses are just as giant as everything else from Akielos. They are a sight to behold, and impossible to ignore.” 

“I see,” Alaia said, pondering. Then she looked at Laurent with a teasing grin. “I will certainly appreciate the break from Vere's prized subtlety.”

Auguste laughed at that, and clasped Damen on the shoulder. “Come. Sit down. We are only on the second course.” 

Feeling a little cut off from the conversation anyway, Damen broke off from Laurent and Alaia, to sit on Auguste's other side. “What's on the menu?”

Laurent answered from his own reclaimed seat, pointing out dishes. “Plenty of Akielon dishes for you. Lots of fish and lemons and olives and oil. But we have stretched it to ten courses, as is customary for a welcome feast in Vere, and we have expanded the dessert menu.” Laurent grinned at him, but Damen's smile back hurt. It sounded like a feast they would have hosted together. Maybe even a wedding feast.

“Laurent saw to the preparations himself for a majority of the day,” Auguste told Damen. “He wanted a mix of Akielon and Veretian flavors to honor your presence, and also welcome you to Vere.”

Laurent flushed slightly at the mention of his involvement, but hid it behind a sip of water. Damen couldn't help the soft look he sent him. “Thank you,” he told him earnestly. “Everything looks fantastic.”

“What are these?” Alaia chimed in, serving herself from a plate.

“Stuffed grape leaves,” Laurent replied, maybe too eager to turn away from Damen. “They are actually one of my favorite Akielon fares.” Damen didn't know that, but now he made a note to never forget.

Alaia hummed interestedly, and placed one on her plate. “Really? But it's not coated in sugar. How do you stomach it?”

Damen snorted at that, and Laurent shot him a glare before turning it back on Alaia. “You jest, but wait until you try the honeyed apricots. You'll be stuffing them in your bodice to keep for later.”

Alaia gave a self deprecating look down her bodice. “As much as this bodice could be improved with a couple apricots, I don't think I could fit a single thing in here. Your Veretian fashions are much too tight.”

“Nonsense,” Auguste cut in. “That your bodice could be improved, I mean. It is perfect as is. Unless it's too tight of course. You are the judge of that,” he added awkwardly.

“Oh dear, Your Majesty, are you handing out compliments?” Lady Vannes drawled. “Half the room will be in danger of melting.” 

Auguste flushed at that. “I just meant that her bodice - er, her dress - is the height of fashion. Nothing needs to be changed, unless for her comfort.”

“I'm just trying to keep up with my soon to be husband,” Alaia said, indicating Laurent. Damen tried not to flinch at the label. “Charls always says he's the shining star to match my looks to.”

“Alas,” Laurent lamented, “I’m afraid my bodice couldn't hold a couple of apricots comfortably either." Damen's thoughts strayed to lacing Laurent up earlier. There certainly wasn't much room for anything besides Laurent in that jacket. "Maybe if we implemented some billowy sleeves like Patras, we could stuff a few up there.”

“Or use more hidden pockets, like in Vask.” Alaia offered.

“I believe Damianos sometimes wears a pouch under his chiton, maybe we could use that somehow.” Laurent added.

“What do you know about what is under Prince Damianos’ chiton?” Alaia teased.

The blush that overtook Laurent's face at that was brilliant, and he didn't appear to be capable of answering right away. Auguste was silent as well, so Damen tried to intervene. “I do, sometimes. Wear a pouch. Not tonight though. The lines of this chiton wouldn't fall right over one. Sort of similar to your apricot problem, I guess.”

It worked to get the attention mostly off of Laurent, though Alaia was still looking at him curiously. Vannes looked between the two of them, before settling her gaze upon Damen. “Pity,” is all she said. 

Luckily, the servants descended at that time to clear the course and place the next, effectively ending that line of conversation. Damen grabbed one more stuffed grape leaf before they disappeared.

“So what has kept you away all this time, Prince Damianos?” Vannes asked. “You used to be such an… enthusiastic visitor to Vere.”

Damen swallowed before answering, and tried to organize his thoughts. “A multitude of things, really. But the highlights were a nephew being born, a dry winter leading to a sparse harvest, and border patrol." Exhaustion had his emotions rising again as he considered all he had lost this year. All that Akielos had lost due to some bad luck and Vask. Laurent's engagement suddenly felt like more than just a betrayal to him, but to his whole country. "The Vaskian raider tribes grow more and more bold. They have been reckless in the border towns, and tensions are at an all time high. Twenty-eight dead in the last season alone.” He looked at Alaia as he said this, as if the deaths were on her hands. He felt Auguste's foot nudge him, and looked over to see him send Damen a warning look. 

Alaia met his eyes steadily, however, and did not appear offended. Which was good, Damen supposed, seeing that this was not the international incident he was intent on creating. She responded more diplomatically than Damen had, “It is true that the free tribes of the southern steppes have seen too much leeway from the Empress as of late. I believe the men that have been driven to such extremes at the border feel... left behind amongst Vask's matriarchal society. They are seeking acknowledgment in increasingly destructive ways, and Empress Vishkar must respond." She paused, but kept her eyes on Damen and added earnestly, "It is my hope that this marriage to Vere instills a sense of accountability and responsibility to Vere and all her allies. I would like to see justice for the border towns. I am sorry for your losses.”

She continued looking sympathetically at Damen until Laurent smiled at her proudly and grabbed her hand on the table. Damen tracked the movement. He could not look away from Laurent's hand covering hers. It was such an open display of solidarity. Laurent was offering her comfort and showing his loyalty with such a simple point of contact. Damen stared as Laurent's thumb stroked the side of her hand. He was finally able to wrench his eyes away after a swift kick from Auguste that was accompanied by serious eye contact.

Damen looked back at Auguste, but he wasn't really seeing him. His mind’s eye was still seeing Laurent's hand holding Alaia’s. Damen and Laurent had never been able to love so openly. As princes and heirs of their respective nations, they couldn't showcase their loyalty to each other. But Laurent's betrothal changed that. Now Laurent could be openly loyal to another nation. But it was not Akielos. 

Damen burned with jealousy so hot it took him by surprise and shook him out of his stupor. He finally met Auguste's eyes, which had morphed from stern to pitying. Gods, that hurt even more. Damen needed a moment to collect himself. 

“Oh look,” he heard Laurent exclaim, “they've brought a few honeyed apricots out early.”

Damen looked over in time to see Laurent pick up one of the sweet fruits, and saw the new guard he had seen outside his door step up to the table urgently. The guard tried to keep his voice down when he spoke to Laurent, but their small radius could hear when he said, “Your Majesty, don't eat that.”

Their group went quiet, and Laurent and Auguste shared a glance, but besides that, Laurent didn't appear to react to this request. “Your Highness, if you please, Malik," he finally responded. "Your Majesty refers to the king.”

“Your Highness, then,” Malik pressed on, insistent. “That apricot did not come from the kitchens.” 

Laurent fingers tightened ever so slightly around the apricot, but he still maintained a neutral face. He rubbed a thumb over the fruit as if polishing it, and then wiped his hands off on the cloth napkin in his lap. A yellowish residue was wiped off, maybe the honey, but the fruit appeared clean. Auguste and Laurent shared another look, but had no additional reaction. They seemed to be having a hundred conversations in the space of a glance. Damen had seen them do this before. He hated it then, and it further frustrated him now. 

Laurent then lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth. It came away faintly yellow again, and this time Auguste let slip the smallest audible inhale. That inhale put Damen on high alert, even though Laurent still showed no reaction, looking away from Auguste, and returning his napkin to his lap.

Damen looked to see how everyone else was reacting. The guard appeared anxious, waiting for more direction. Alaia looked simply confused, looking between Laurent and Auguste, waiting for someone to break the silence or respond to the guard. He felt a brief twinge of sympathy for her, because if she was marrying into this family, she'd witness more than her fair share of conversations held with nothing but their eyes and shifts of their shoulders. He glanced back at Vannes to see her still staring at the yellow stained napkin. 

Then, finally, Laurent reacted. “Thank you, Malik, but I think I'm going to take this to go. I'm not feeling very well, and would like to retire before the entertainments start. Would you stay, and escort my fiancée back to her rooms when the feast is over?”

Malik looked confused at his response, but seemed to finally tap into whatever training he had received as of yet to smooth his expression over. “Um, yes, of course, Your Highness.”

Laurent looked pleased by his response, and gave Alaia's hand another squeeze before he stood up, napkin no longer in sight. “Thank you, again. Prince Damianos, welcome to Vere. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening. The entertainments planned for tonight are supposed to be truly stunning. Brother, I am sorry to leave early. I will rest and see you tomorrow morning to discuss the guest lists. Good night.”

Laurent then walked away, tossing his apricot up in the air before taking a bite as he went. Alaia looked after him, still visibly confused, and Malik the guard had retaken his post. 

Damen turned to Auguste, who had gone back to eating. “What was that?”

Auguste shrugged, “he said he wasn't feeling well. I'm sure it's nothing serious, and he'll be okay tomorrow.”

Damen would not be put off by whatever the brothers wanted to keep to themselves. “Auguste, don't. What was that?” 

Auguste stubbornly continued as if nothing strange had just happened. “I'm sure it is nothing. Laurent is always the picture of health.”

“Fine. I'm following him,” Damen said as he stood up. 

“Damen, sit down.” Auguste’s face was still smiling, but his voice had gone stern. The soldier in Damen reacted to the command of a king, and he quickly sat back down. Auguste leaned in as if he was sharing a funny observation of the feast, and said for Damen's ears only, “you are woefully uninformed, and acting rashly. We will speak to Laurent later.”

“Tonight?” Damen muttered back. He would not wait for tomorrow.

“Tonight,” Auguste agreed and pulled back to pick at his food. Vannes had gone back to her food as well, and was talking to a man that came up to speak with her. Alaia was pushing her food around her plate, engaged in conversation with a couple on her other side. 

Damen didn't feel like he could eat anymore, but he shoveled in some tasteless spoonfuls, and forced himself to swallow around the lump in his throat. All he could do was wait for Auguste's ‘all clear,’ so that he could find Laurent and demand answers. He watched as Laurent's guards rotated through positions, until it was just Malik that was left waiting for Alaia to finish the feast. 

--

Finally, hours later, after the food had been cleared and Auguste had done the rounds, he nodded in Damen's direction, and made for the exit. Damen didn't even attempt to smoothly disengage from whoever he was speaking to. He just walked away in the middle of their sentence, anxious to follow. As soon as he turned the corner, he jogged to catch up to the king. 

“Okay,” he said through gritted teeth, “tell me what is going on.”

Auguste didn't prevaricate this time. “We think Laurent's been poisoned.”

“What?” Damen practically yelled, but at Auguste's look, he quieted back down. “You think Laurent has been poisoned and we spent the last few hours playing host?” 

"Well, technically, you were playing guest," Auguste returned, like that was in any way a reasonable response.

Damen was bursting at the seams. "I swear to the fucking gods, Auguste..."

“Calm down," Auguste cut him off, though he appeared less than calm himself. "Laurent was fine when he left. I'm sure he went straight to Paschal. And it's a slow acting poison, if anything, so we have plenty of time. Tonight it was more important to act like nothing was wrong. Laurent is not in danger this time, though he is probably feeling sick.”

“The apricot?” Damen guessed.

Auguste nodded. “The apricot, yes, but Lauren hadn't eaten the apricot yet. It seems more of his food was coated with the same substance.”

“The whole feast?” Damen tried to think through the implications of that.

Auguste shook his head this time. “It doesn't appear anyone else's food was tampered with. They somehow managed to only target Laurent.”

“How?” Damen insisted.

“I don't know, Damianos.” Auguste's cool facade was finally breaking, and Damen could see the frustration and panic underneath. It did nothing to calm his own fears. “That's what we are going to discuss with him.”

When they got to Laurent's door, Damen was happy to see his two most loyal guards out front, Jord and Orlant. They both gave them a grimace when they approached, though, which was not a good sign for what was inside. Jord opened the door without prompting, so Auguste didn't even need to break stride entering. 

The first thing they saw once past the door was Laurent's head over a chamber pot, Paschal’s hand on his back as he retched. Damen and Auguste rushed over, babbling questions over each other at Paschal. 

“It’s okay, Your Majesty, the retching is my doing," Paschal tried to soothe. "I gave him something to throw up as much of the poison as possible. Though it had already started affecting him, so we didn't get all of it," he added solemnly. 

Auguste knelt in front of Laurent, and cupped his sweaty head, smoothing his damp hair out of his face. “Oh, little brother. What has he done to you? How long?”

Damen had taken over rubbing Laurent's back from Paschal, so he couldn't see his face when he answered, “I'm okay, Auguste. It's only early days, though I cannot say for certain when it started,” he admitted.

Auguste looked at Paschal questioningly, and Paschal responded, “He says he has gone to bed with a headache a few times already.”

“A few times already?” Auguste raised his eyebrows at Laurent, clearly upset.

“It's not like a headache is so uncommon a symptom,” Laurent said defensively. “And I had been having trouble sleeping, I thought it was just exhaustion.”

Damen’s hand stopped rubbing. How long had Laurent been feeling this bad? Why wasn't he sleeping?

“So we don't know when it started,” Auguste repeated back to Paschal. “Can you tell where he is based on his symptoms?”

Paschal considered. “Like he said, early days. But it is good you caught it. As you know, every successive night is worse. It builds upon itself, wearing the body's defense down until it is too exhausted to fight anymore.”

Damen's hand was unmoving on Laurent's back. Laurent was still on his knees hovering over the chamber pot, Auguste still gripping his face and smoothing his hair. Everyone seemed to have some grave understanding of something, and Damen was tired of feeling out of the loop. 

“Can somebody tell me why you all seem to know exactly what kind of poison was used and how it works?” he burst out. 

All three of them exchanged a look before anyone answered. Damen was about to lose his mind if he had to witness one more silent conversation.

Auguste tried first, “we are not certain, but we have seen something similar before…”

Damen cut him off, pleading and desperate, “No. No more evasion. Please. Just tell me what is going on.”

It was silent for a beat more before Laurent spoke up from the floor. “Our mother died of a progressive disease." Damen knew that much, but stayed silent to hear the rest. "No one could figure out what was wrong with her, but she just kept getting worse. We didn't notice anything dreadfully amiss at first. She would just retire early, not feeling herself. Then she started to have frequent headaches." Laurent gave a wry smile here that no one returned. "Then it seemed like she had a flu that just wouldn't go away. Then the fevers came. For the last month, she couldn't stomach any food, would just keep throwing it up. Her handkerchiefs always had a… yellow residue after she would use them. I assumed it was bile at the time, but…" Laurent trailed off, and everyone remembered his napkin at dinner. "Based on recent revelations, we do not think her death was natural. Nor do we think our father's was truly an accident, but that is another story. Anyway, it took almost a year, but she finally succumbed, in her sleep, after not being able to even eat for a couple days.”

Everyone was silent after that revelation. Auguste had let go of Laurent's face. Laurent seemed to finally feel like his purge was complete, because he was wiping his own face with a wet towel and sitting back on his heels. Damen quickly maneuvered himself so that Laurent landed on his lap instead and wrapped his arms around him. He spoke into his hair. “And you think that's what is happening to you?”

“Yes," Laurent replied, half turning to face him. "The yellow on my napkin was distinctive. I showed it to Paschal, and he agrees. Did you check Alaia’s plate?” Laurent asked Auguste.

Auguste nodded grimly. “Yes, I wiped a bit at everyone's plates, but couldn't find another trace of it. It seems you were the only one targeted.”

Laurent hummed at that. “Hm. The perils of furthering the line of succession, I suppose. Can you station Malik outside Alaia's door tonight? We'll work on getting her a full time guard starting tomorrow.”

“She's not going to like that,” Auguste smiled at the thought. 

Laurent sighed. “I know, but it would make me feel better.” 

“Of course,” Auguste smiled softly at him. “Are you sure you are feeling okay for now?”

“Yes, Auguste, I am fine," Laurent assured him. "We'll have to start being more careful about what we ingest from now on though.”

Auguste sighed and stood up. “True enough. I'll let you get your beauty sleep then. You need it more than usual. Come on, Damen.”

Damen's mind was whirling with everything he had just learned, and he was a little thrown off by the brothers' outward impassivity. His arms tightened around Laurent. “I'm not leaving.”

Auguste narrowed his eyes, “Damen…”

“Someone needs to keep an eye on him tonight! He's been poisoned!” Damen stubbornly persisted.

Paschal seemed to notice then that he had overstayed. “I don't think I'm needed here anymore. Your Highness, please come to see me tomorrow morning so we can check your vitals.”

Laurent looked at the physician gratefully. “Will do, Paschal. Thank you.” Paschal exited the room, leaving Damen sitting with Laurent in his lap, eyes still locked on Auguste's in a standoff. 

Auguste started again, “Damen -”

Damen cut him off. “Auguste. I just want to see for myself he is okay, and fetch him the chamber pot if needed.” He was prepared to plead his case if he had to.

Auguste looked at Laurent in another one of those silent conversations Damen hated so much. Damen felt Laurent shrug one shoulder, though he couldn't see what his face was doing. 

Auguste sighed again. “Fine. Just - be discreet or something. Please remember you are in the crown prince's rooms, and no one else is to know he's been poisoned.”

“I got that, thanks.” Damen relaxed his hold a little, but kept his arms securely around Laurent's waist.

Auguste just shook his head, and headed for the door. “Come see me tomorrow morning as well, little brother. We have much to discuss.” He was through the door before Laurent could respond. Veretians loved having the last word.

Damen breathed easy. It was finally just him and Laurent again. He took stock of him in his arms. 

Laurent broke the silence. “Do you want your usual side of the bed then?” he asked dryly.

Damen shifted Laurent to one knee so he could look him in the eye. “Laurent, sweetheart, I want to know you are okay. This is all new information to me, and I'm scared,” he admitted.

Laurent sighed and dropped the tension. “I truly am fine. When Paschal looked at me, I was just feeling a bit off. Clammy, and sweaty, and maybe a little bit of a headache, but that was it. It looks worse now that I've emptied the contents of my stomach.”

Damen ran his fingers through Laurent's sweat dampened golden strands, and started to massage his scalp. “You are beautiful.”

Laurent huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You are ridiculous.”

“It's true. Where is the apricot now?" Damen knew Laurent made a show of leaving with it.

"With Paschal," Laurent answered, picking up the conversation easily, "he wanted to look at the coating more carefully."

Damen had to ask for his own sanity, "and you didn't really..."

Laurent snorted. "I spit out the bite I took and rinsed my mouth out." At Damen's relieved look, Laurent bristled. "I'm not quite as reckless as you seem to believe."

Damen chose not to respond to that. "Why would he use such a slow acting poison? Why a method he had used before?" He made no attempt to pretend he didn't know who was behind this.

Laurent shrugged, making light of his lack of understanding. "I don't know for sure. Maybe I would get sick just like my mother, never discovering the poison, and they'd call it a hereditary illness, no foul play suspected. Or maybe we'd discover the poison, and they could use the excuse of all the foreign visitors to claim an assassination attempt, and start a war over it. I'm sure he has a hundred things in the fire, and he's just waiting to see how it all falls before he commits to a story. It can feel more organic that way."

Damen was beginning to understand why it was so important that no one reacted at the time. "Who do you know that is working for your uncle?” Laurent's uncle wasn't at the dinner. Damen was sure of that.

Laurent started fiddling with the front of Damen's chiton, the movements softening Damen's chest. “Directly? It is hard to say. Govart makes no secret of it, and Guion and Juerre are safe bets, but I can't be sure about anyone else. More concerning is how many are under his influence. Half the council are in his pockets, and he makes frequent trips to the outer provinces to stir up discontent and spread rumors, and probably get up to any number of illegal activities. I usually follow in his wake to undo the damage, but I cannot always know exactly what he has done or said.”

Damen leveled Laurent with a look he hoped looked stern. “You follow discontent to where a foundation of anti-crown sentiment has been laid. Do you even hear yourself? How is that remotely safe?”

Laurent prickled. “Oh, I'm sorry. When you said you were going to border towns earlier, you must have meant the happy ones where they threw you a parade just for showing up. How are the discontented ones faring? Do they feel heard when they receive a letter from Ios stating all is well?”

Damen would not be goaded by the reversal. “That is not remotely the same. I am not going where people are actively plotting against me, I am going where the king's presence is requested!”

“Like it or not, Damianos, I am currently the crown prince of Vere. It is my duty to secure Auguste's rule, and that includes smoothing out discontent as it sprouts up,” Laurent stubbornly insisted.

Damen decided to avoid the argument for now, and switched gears. “What about the guard that alerted you to the apricot? The new one. Who is he? What do you know of him?”

Laurent came down from his increasing indignation to answer this different line of questioning. “Malik? He is Alaia's cousin. He came to the palace with her and I added him to my guard a couple weeks ago.”

Damen's hand stopped rubbing Laurent's scalp. He internally battled with himself to stop from starting yet another argument. But in the end, he didn't have the strength to hold back. “You what? You added a completely untrained and untested person to your guard, with no real loyalty to you or even to Vere, while you are actively avoiding assassination attempts? Why? Because your fiancée requested it? What trust has she earned? You've known her for a handful of months and him for a handful of weeks? What if your uncle got to them first? How did he even know about the apricot? He could have planted it himself! Don't let your judgment be clouded by whatever else you are trying to achieve with this partnership!”

Damen knew he had gone too far. But this day had been long and confusing and upsetting, and he just let loose his frustrations. It was hard to believe that this morning he woke with the sun in an inn miles away, arriving at the palace only just before midday. 

Laurent removed his hands from Damen's chiton, and Damen braced himself for his fury. When Laurent spoke though, it was not angry, but calm and collected. He was using his royal voice, the one that he used to command his men, or sway the council. It was imbued with authority and brokered no argument.

“I have been in charge of choosing my guard since I was fifteen years old, Damianos, and I have yet to be proven wrong in a choice. I have been expanding my guard since the assassination attempts started, and I see it as a benefit to have guards that were not indoctrinated in Vere, as my uncle's poisonous roots grow deep, and it is not beneath him to start the brain rot when the victim is still a child, as you know. I approached Malik after watching him spar with Jord, and Jord, as my captain, has been vetting him as well as training him since his arrival. Malik and Jord, as well as others, were making rounds of the dining hall, servants’ quarters and kitchen during the feast. He spotted the apricot, because after my mention of it earlier in the night, he took notice of them prepping them in the kitchen with interest. When I picked up the one from the table, he noticed that it did not match the presentation of the ones he saw being prepared, and stepped forward. Yes, I questioned him - and Jord - after the fact as I gathered what evidence I could. Jord trusts his version of events, as do I. I am confident Alaia is not here to topple Auguste's rule. She is here for Vere and Vask's mutual benefit, and because we are a good match. It should not matter to you why I trust them, just that I do. From what I can see, you have less reason to be loyal to Vere than she does.”

Damen never imagined someone could sound so imperious from someone else's lap right after they had been vomiting for the past two hours, but he shouldn't have been surprised Laurent could do it. Sufficiently chastened, though he disagreed with the last statement, he bowed his head slightly to show his deference to Laurent's point. He didn't want Laurent to pull away from him yet, so he wound his other arm loosely around Laurent's waist just to hold him. Laurent could have still gotten away if he wanted to, but he didn't. He stayed where he was, in the circle of Damen's arms.

“Besides,” Laurent added, a little wryly, “it is awfully hypocritical of you. You had Pallas guarding me every time you visited.”

Damen gave him a small grin at that, tension ebbing. “That was different. We gave Pallas and Lazar all the same shifts so that they had their time off together. And I was with you so much anyway, he was practically guarding me.”

Laurent shook his head, but warmth returned to his eyes. Damen searched his face, trying to gauge how he was truly feeling. He raised a hand to gently cup Laurent's face, thumb rubbing just to the side of his red and glistening mouth. “I still can't believe you've been poisoned.”

Laurent gave the smallest of smiles. “I dare say there are some who would feel quite vindicated.” Damen frowned at that. “They always say my mouth drips poison. They've never known themselves to be more right.”

Damen was fixated on the offending mouth now. Red and shiny with the exertion of the night. He moved his thumb to trace the edge of the bottom lip. “I've always known your mouth to be sweet.” 

Laurent stayed quiet, and Damen watched him swallow. He finally looked back up into Laurent's blue eyes to see Laurent staring back at him. They held that look for an extended beat before Laurent cleared his throat. “We should get some sleep.”

“Right,” Damen said, letting his hand drop. “Okay.”

Laurent stood up, and Damen instantly missed his weight. While Laurent went to wash his face and rinse out his mouth, Damen decided what he should do with his clothes. Laurent probably wouldn't appreciate him trying to sleep naked right now, but all he had with him was his formal chiton, cape and sandals. And, Gods, he was still wearing his laurels. He took them off first and put them next to Laurent's circlet on his dresser. His heart clenched at the domesticity of seeing the two resting there together. Then he took off his sandals and placed them neatly to the side while still deciding what to do with his clothes. He decided to take off his cape, removing the lion pin holding the top half of his chiton together, letting it fall to his waist. He folded the cape and put it on a nearby chair, and then weighed the lion pin in his hand, deciding if he should refasten his top half or not. He decided to leave the lion pin off, putting it by his laurels. That just left the one pin holding the lower half of his chiton together at his hip. He would just have to make sure to sleep on his other side, so it didn't stab him in his sleep. 

Laurent emerged from the wash room, and Damen could tell he had also thought about what to keep on. He was unlaced at the sleeves and chest, but his shirt was still tucked into pants that had also started to be unlaced. Damen's gaze dropped to the opening of those pants, and his tired mind ran away from him before he could stop it. He thought about sticking his hand in that loosened waistline to find Laurent's cock. It was probably soft now, but Damen would stroke it to hardness, all while leaving the pants on. Only when Laurent was dripping and jerking his hips to find more friction would Damen finally finish unlacing the pants and ease them down Laurent's long legs. He would go to his knees to peel them off each foot, and then would nose his way back up to the center of Laurent where he would be aching for the attention Damen could give. Damen wouldn't be done teasing yet, kissing up Laurent's inner thighs, maybe leaving a bruise right at the crease where leg meets groin. He would ignore the bobbing member in favor of placing kisses everywhere else - on his hip bone, on his pubic bone, nuzzling into the blond hair there, at the top of his sac, at the bottom, pausing to take each teste in his mouth one at a time. Only when Laurent gave in and begged Damen for suction would he take the tip in his mouth and swirl his tongue around the head, savoring the precum Laurent always leaked so liberally. He would focus all of his attention on the head for just a short while before he gave Laurent everything he wanted and swallowed him down to the root.

Damen's fantasy was cut short when he noticed Laurent sit down to take his boots off. Gods, he needed to rest. He had lost control of his mind, and he needed to remind himself that Laurent had just been poisoned.

Laurent looked up at Damen, unaware of the track his mind went on, eyes snagging only briefly on Damen's bare chest. “Did you want to wash?”

Damen's mouth was dry, so he cleared his throat before answering. “Um, no, I did before dinner, and I think I'm mostly okay.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Barbarian.” He finished with his boots, stretched his pink toes out, then started climbing into bed. 

Damen approached the other side, unsure of himself again. “Can I - should I -,” he left the question hanging in the air. 

Laurent turned to look at him. “Did your giant self want to sleep on that chair over there?”

Damen couldn't help but flush at the thought of what he had wanted. “No, I - I'll just get in, shall I?”

Laurent just hummed and rolled back over. Damen pulled back the covers and climbed in next to Laurent. He laid on his back with his mind racing over the day he had. He ought to be exhausted, but he was full of energy with no outlet. He rolled towards Laurent so his pin was facing up. He noticed Laurent shaking slightly.

“How do you feel now?” He asked, concerned.

Still facing away from him, Laurent answered, “I'm fine, Damen. The shaking is just from having no food in my stomach. It'll be fine after breakfast in the morning.” 

Damen reached out a hand and laid it on Laurent's side. Laurent stopped shaking for a moment, but then it started up again. Damen started stroking his hand up and down. “Does this help?”

Laurent hesitated, but said, “yes. You are radiating heat as always, and - and I think the warmth helps.”

Damen shuffled forward until his front was aligned with Laurent's back. He wiggled an arm under Laurent's neck, so Laurent could use his bicep as a pillow. He wrapped his other arm around Laurent's waist, and curled both arms to protectively hold Laurent diagonally across his chest. “How's this?”

“It's… adequate,” Laurent replied.

Damen huffed a laugh and nuzzled into the golden crown of Laurent's head. His mind was finally quiet, and Laurent's body was going still against him. It felt right, and Damen felt himself starting to slowly slip asleep.

But first he heard Laurent, still facing away from him, as he said, “Damen, about Alaia...”

Damen couldn't hear it. Not when he was so tired. Not when Laurent was so vulnerable in his arms. He stopped Laurent as gently as he could. "Shh, not tonight. Not when you are so sick." And Laurent must have truly been feeling sick, because he acquiesced without a fight. But now Damen's mind was buzzing again, and he couldn't help but add, “she seems… great.”

Laurent tensed in his arms, but answered, “she is.”

Because Damen apparently loved hurting himself, he asked, “do you love her?” 

Laurent let himself think for a moment. “I do," he said, and Damen felt that like the dagger it was. "Like family. Like Auguste.”

Damen wasn't sure if he meant that by the strength of the feelings or the nature of them. So he pushed, “like me?”

Damen could feel Laurent's silent sigh before he said quietly, “no. Not like you.”

It was enough for Damen for now. He squeezed Laurent a bit, then forced himself to relax his arms, and settled in behind him. He laid there as he felt the tension leave Laurent's body bit by bit, until he heard Laurent's breathing even out in slumber.

Finally relaxed, and finally at peace, Damen fell asleep beside him.

Chapter Text

Damen woke up from what seemed like the best sleep he’d had in over a year to the best view he had seen in over a year - a sleep rumpled Laurent shaking him awake. His golden hair mussed, shirt wrinkled and unlaced, Laurent's face was creased with pillow lines and light concern as he jostled Damen. Damen couldn't help the grin spreading over his face as he unconsciously grabbed Laurent and pulled him towards him. Laurent landed with an oof against his chest.

“Good morning,” he said with a sleep-deepened rumble. 

Laurent pushed himself up with his hands on Damen's bare chest. “Damen. You have to go.”

Damen covered Laurent's hands on his chest with his own, enjoying the warmth of the skin on skin. “What? It's -” he looked to Laurent's balcony for confirmation, “not even light yet.”

Laurent looked exasperatedly at him, but said patiently, “right. But it will be, and then servants will be running in and out of this wing. We're being discreet, remember?” 

Damen frowned and scrubbed his hands over his face to knock out some of the sleep. “Okay. Fine. For now.” 

Laurent rolled his eyes, and jumped out of the bed to start collecting clothes. Damen went to the water basin to get a drink and splash some water on his face. When he got back to the bed, he was feeling more awake.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, last night returning to him in full force.

“Fine," Laurent blithely replied. "Tip top shape.” Laurent was handing Damen his cape and pin, but Damen didn't take them. Rolling his eyes again, Laurent started gathering the fabric at Damen's waist and draping it over his shoulder, how he wore it last night. “Truly, Damen. The effects are not long lasting. At least not this early in the game. And Paschal had me throw most of it up anyway. I am hungry more than anything.”

Laurent temporarily pinned Damen's chiton in place, then reached around him to drape the cape over his shoulders. The whole act of Laurent dressing him felt intimate with them huddled close together in the very early morning, muddling Damen's thoughts once more. Laurent held the cape and chiton together at the pin with his long fingers, and then took the pin out to reset it with the cape included. Damen watched Laurent's face as he fiddled with the pin, making sure the lion head was right side up, brushing over the engraving, then running his fingers over the cape to make sure it was draping just right. 

“Laurent.” Damen desperately wanted Laurent to look back at him, but Laurent was determined to keep his face away and focused on something else. When he was done fiddling with Damen's clothes, he went to get Damen's sandals stacked by the chair. When he came back, he dropped to his knees in front of Damen, and attempted to lace up the sandals on him. The sight of Laurent disheveled in the clothes he slept in, kneeling before him was too much for Damen first thing in the morning. He threaded a hand through Laurent's messy hair and tilted his face up to see him. “Laurent, sweetheart, I can do it.” Laurent's face went pink as he realized the position he was in, and he sprang up and shoved the sandals at Damen. Damen took them and sat down on the bed to lace them. “What about you? Don't you need to get dressed?”

Still blushing, Laurent tried to sound annoyed while he gathered Damen's laurels from the dresser. “We're in my rooms. Everyone expects me to be here, in sleep clothes. The servants will come in at some point to help me dress, but nothing will seem out of the ordinary, unless there is a very large Akielon man still in my bed.”

Laurent approached Damen with the laurels right as Damen finished with his sandals. As he raised his head to look up at Laurent, Laurent settled them in his hair, picking out a curl here and there to frame them. 

Damen grinned at him, proud despite himself. “Wouldn't be their first time seeing this particular Akielon man in your bed.”

Laurent took his hands back and rubbed his forehead. “Damen. Just go. I have much to do this morning.”

Damen sobered at that. “Okay. I'm going. But we are talking about this later.”

Laurent rolled his eyes again, probably setting a record for eye rolls before daybreak. “Get in line. Surely you heard how many times my presence has already been requested this morning.”

But Damen wouldn't be put off. “After, then. We need to talk.”

Laurent relented. “Okay, Damianos, we'll talk. Now go.”

Damen let himself be pushed out the door, only to see Pallas and Lazar flanking it. Laurent poked his head out to see the same thing. After a glare at Damen where he noticed the same surprise on his face, he looked to Lazar for answers. “We are being discreet. Why are our two least discreet guards at the door?” 

Lazar answered irreverently as always. “You wouldn't be discreet either if you were faced with Pallas' -” 

Pallas cut Lazar off to actually answer the question. “We followed Prince Damianos here after dinner last night. Jord assigned the rotations after the King of Vere left, and we were briefed on what happened and the current situation.”

Laurent was still glaring at Lazar. “Fine. Thank you. Pallas, please escort Prince Damianos back to his rooms. Lazar, you are to be solo and silent until you are relieved from your shift.” Laurent then disappeared back into his rooms and slammed the door. 

Lazar apparently took his order of silence seriously, because he didn't ask Damen any of the questions that were currently burning in his eyes. Damen grinned at Pallas and slapped Lazar on the shoulder as he headed back to his quarters. He should still be tired with the late night and early rise, but he felt more energized than he had in a long time and wanted to go to the training area after he changed out of last night's clothes. 

As he walked, he ran over his interactions with Laurent so far. He thought about the smiles, the looks, the lingering on Damen's bare chest, the fiddling with his clothes. He especially thought about that first kiss, the tease that followed, and the weight of Laurent in his arms last night. He was positive that Laurent was not unaffected. But there were a lot of factors that Damen did not consider on his mad ride to Arles.

First, there was real affection between Laurent and Alaia. Something Damen had not been able to bring himself to think about until confronted with the fact. Second, Laurent was anxious. He was anxious to secure Auguste's rule, and anxious to protect those he loved. And when Laurent got anxious, he got reckless. Damen would have to focus on keeping him safe above everything else. And finally, Laurent's uncle. Damen wasn't sure of his motivations or plans, but he knew they were sinister. Damen would have to be careful around him and anyone linked to him. It was not in his best interest to let the older prince know the depth of his affection and loyalty to the brothers, Laurent especially. Or that he planned to ask him to marry him. He would need to keep that to himself for the time being.

Damen hadn't seen Laurent's uncle yet on this trip, but he knew that would not last. Damen guessed that as the day of the wedding got nearer, attempts on Laurent's life would get more serious. His uncle would want to be near to witness his handiwork and step in when the chaos hit to appear the level headed ruler. Auguste would be a wreck for Gods knew how long if anything happened to Laurent. It would be the perfect time for a coup. Damen mulled that over while he dressed for the training yard.

–

When Damen and Pallas arrived in the yard, Damen saw Auguste already there overseeing his men's training. At first, Damen was excited to see his friend again, but after the cool look Auguste sent his way, he just felt wary. He looked back at Pallas to make sure he saw where they were going, and they headed in Auguste's direction. Damen stepped up to stand beside Auguste so they could have this out, whatever it was going to be. Pallas stayed at a safe distance behind them to give them some privacy.

Auguste side-eyed Damen as he approached, but kept facing his men. “You're up early,” he commented when Damen was close enough.

“Out before the sun rose, just as requested,” Damen replied, facing out as well.

“So you spent the night,” Auguste sounded audibly upset, and turned his head to face him. Damen wondered when Laurent spending time with him had become so unsavory. “Did you -” 

Damen looked at Auguste with raised eyebrows when he cut himself off. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Auguste held his gaze defiantly for a moment, before he looked away again. “I guess not. Not really.”

The only reason Damen answered was because he didn't think it was fair to Laurent to imply to his brother that they did something they didn't. “We didn't. He was sick. I watched over him through the night. Then I left.”

Auguste glared at him like he didn't believe him, and for a second, Damen could see a new resemblance in the brothers that he had never had cause to notice before. “Good.”

That ‘good’ prickled Damen the wrong way, and he was about to ask what the hell Auguste's problem was again, when Lazar showed his truly terrible timing, and joined the conversation, putting an arm around Pallas. 

“The Prince of Akielos! Finally. My shift of silence has officially ended, and I've been dying to know - how long did it take for you and our Prince to-”

“Lazar, I will have you executed by midday if you finish that question,” Auguste cut in sharply. “And that threat stands if you ever talk that way about my baby brother in my hearing again.”

Lazar turned a surprisingly deferential bow in Auguste's direction. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was too eager. I was bid to be silent for hours without understanding the full truth of what happened last night, and this is my first time seeing the Prince of Akielos since then. I was out of line.”

Auguste's normally jovial face turned mean when he said, “as far as I am concerned, the Prince of Akielos has no cause to know my brother's ‘full truth'. And speaking of my brother, I think I am due to meet with him.” With that, Auguste walked away while Damen stood by in shocked silence.

Well, that hurt. Auguste was Damen's friend. Good friend. Since before Damen and Laurent ever got together. Friends since Damen was sixteen and Auguste was twenty-two when there wasn't another person in the world that could understand the responsibilities put on them as children. Damen remembered how nervous he was when he was twenty-two, and he had to tell Auguste that he was interested in Laurent. That he wanted to pursue him romantically, but didn't want it to affect their friendship.

But besides that first stern, mildly threatening conversation, Auguste had always been their biggest supporter. He had told Damen how good they were for each other, how they complimented one another, how they built each other up. He knew that Damen would be a better person because of Laurent, and that Laurent would be a happier person because of Damen. He even gave Damen his blessing yesterday as Laurent's king!

Taking it away now felt like a betrayal. What had changed since then? Was this all because Damen stayed with Laurent last night? But Auguste was known for being overprotective of Laurent, surely he of all people would understand Damen wanting to be close to him last night, after everything. Was Alaia really so great that Auguste thought she was what was best for Laurent, and now Damen was just getting in the way of that? 

Gods, Damen needed a sword and someone willing to fight him to keep his thoughts from spiraling again. He looked back to see if Pallas would be interested, only to be reminded of Lazar's presence. 

“Cheer up, Pallas' Prince," he said from his position beside Pallas. "I don't think His Majesty meant all that. He is just wound up about the poisoning.”

Damen flinched at the flippant mention of the threat to Laurent's life, and turned a little of his anger on Lazar. “How did you get a position on the Prince's Guard again?”

Lazar shrugged. Gods save Damen from Veretian shrugs. “The prince likes my blunt demeanor.” Damen could believe that about Laurent. “And he would never admit to this, but I've actually made him laugh, out loud, twice.” Damen had a much harder time believing that. “And,” Lazar got uncharacteristically serious, “I'd give my life for him, no question. He knows that.” 

Damen couldn't help but have his heart squeeze at the loyalty Laurent inspired in all of his men, in the most unlikely of places. He thought of Makedon, the most outspoken anti-Veretian Akielon warrior of his age, telling his own soldiers they could learn something from Laurent when he trained with them. Then later that night, Makedon drunkenly told Damen not to let 'that one' go after Laurent spent the night matching Makedon's drinks and showing off how his aim with a throwing knife wasn't hindered by the alcohol.

He thought of Nikandros, so hesitant to let anyone in, so distrustful of anyone that wanted to get close to Damen. But even he was charmed by the prince’s true nature when they went on tenant rounds together and he watched Laurent fix fences and patch roofs for the people of Delpha. 

Laurent was special. He could understand Auguste wanting the best for him. But he was prepared to give him that. Surely being King of Akielos alongside Damen would be an acceptable match for Laurent's brilliant mind. And he would always have an endless store of affection and comfort for him to draw from with Damen. Maybe Auguste had decided he didn't want Laurent leaving Vere? Fuck. With everything going on, Damen wanted to take Laurent as far away from Vere as possible. Damen's head was a mess again.

“Let's spar,” he shot over to Pallas and Lazar who had been talking amongst themselves while Damen stewed. Maybe going two on one for a while would get him out of his head.

–

After an exhausting work out, and a rejuvenating bath, Damen felt a little more focused. He unrolled the package his father had sent with him with all of the correspondence he was expected to get done while he was in Vere, as well as instructions for drafting peace negotiations for the border disputes. Damen organized it and put it on the ‘to do’ section of his desk, and then brought his mind back to the more pressing issues he was facing. 

It was clear the priority had to be Laurent's and Auguste's safety. He needed to solve the issue of their uncle once and for all so that his constant threat wasn't hanging over their every decision. He knew how he wanted to solve it, but had been told more than a few times by both Auguste and Laurent that that wouldn't do in Vere. Unlike in Akielos, where the monarchy was said to be a divine right, in Vere, the council actually reserved the right to depose a monarch they thought was a danger to Vere itself. Auguste couldn't choose to execute another member of the royal family without hard evidence and the assent of the majority of the council without putting his own position at risk. Damen still frequently considered a sideways approach sometimes, but Auguste was very against anything that would damage the relationship with Akielos that they had both fought so hard for. And if it stopped Laurent being able to choose him, well... Damen needed to think this out more.

He was sure Laurent and Auguste were leagues ahead of him in this puzzle already, so he would need to speak with them to catch himself up, without letting the question of his and Laurent's current relationship cloud the conversation. Then, when Laurent could finally relax and live his life without the executioner's axe hanging over his head, Damen could sweep him off his feet and they could ride off into the sunset together. With that basic plan intact, Damen set off to find Laurent. 

After checking the stables, three different libraries, and the gardens, Damen finally spotted Laurent when he was just aimlessly wandering the halls looking for a blond head. But he wasn't alone. Alaia was with him, and it looked like they were having some sort of argument. Damen could see Laurent getting more and more frustrated as he waved his arms and belabored whatever point he was trying to make, while Alaia stubbornly crossed her arms and shook her head, her wild curls bouncing with the movement. They were so involved with their discussion they didn't see Damen as he got within earshot. They were speaking Vaskian, which surprised Damen enough that it took a moment for him to understand what they were arguing about. It was lucky he had spent so much time speaking it this year in border disputes, because Vaskian wasn't normally one of his strongest languages.

“It is for everyone's peace of mind that you are guarded," Laurent was saying. "And then Auguste and I can go on with our plans without constantly worrying where you are.”

“Your plans!" Alaia shot back, indignant. "What about my plans? My plans don't involve being tailed by two hulking men that have the pivot point of a carriage!”

“You do not get to have any plans in this," Laurent argued. "It is not for you to think about or get involved in.”

“Oh?" Alaia voiced, sarcastically attentive. "And what other parts of my thinking am I losing in Vere? Will all my thoughts be policed, or just my person?” 

Laurent threw his hands up again. So much for his meticulously controlled cool. “You are being irrational. And intentionally difficult." Damen almost huffed an audible laugh. Had Laurent ever argued with a woman before? "It is for your safety. Any queen or princess would have a full time guard.”

“I am not yet a queen or a princess.” Alaia said, nose in the air.

“But you will be," Laurent tried to reason. "What is the difference between having a guard now or in a month’s time?”

“Choice!" Alaia exclaimed. "I would prefer to choose my guard myself over time, as I'm sure you were granted.”

“You can have Malik! Who else would you choose?” Laurent practically begged.

"Malik is being trained for the Prince's Guard!" Alaia balked. "I do not want him to be demoted just because you do not trust me to care for myself."

"It is not a demotion to guard someone you are loyal to!" Laurent insisted. "Jord left Auguste's guard for mine when I asked him to, and he is not any less honored for it."

"That just proves my point!" Alaia continued. "You chose him!"

"Who else would you choose?" Laurent asked.

“I don't know," Alaina thought. "I would like time to find warriors that suit me.”

Laurent pressed his advantage. “Then take some of mine for the time being, and -”

“Your men do not compliment my strengths," Alaia cut him off. "We do not fit as a unit. It is as if-” Alaia finally noticed Damen when he was about ten paces away. She switched to Veretian and murmured to Laurent, “your chiton pouch is here.” 

Laurent spun around, adorably flustered and visibly confused, then quickly neutralized his expression upon seeing Damen. It only took him the space of a breath to appear like he wasn't just in the middle of an argument, though twin spots of color on his cheeks still gave him away. “Prince Damianos, how can we help you?”

“Sorry to interrupt," Damen said, pretending he hadn't overheard anything. He looked at Laurent, annoyed by his overly formal tone. "I was hoping to speak with you privately, my Prince.” Damen was bad at formality. Did that sound too possessive? Judging by Alaia's widening eyes, it probably did. 

Laurent's expression didn't waver, but he did exchange a look with Alaia before he responded, and Gods, if Damen had to suffer silent conversations between Laurent and his fiancée now, he would never survive it.

After whatever that look had decided, Laurent faced Damen again. “O-kay, Prince Damianos. I am at your disposal. Lead the way.” He spoke some low, parting words to Alaia, and she curtsied sarcastically before she turned and left them. Watching her dramatic exit caused Laurent to soften into an almost smile and shake his head. “Well?” He said to Damen again, extending a hand forward in question.

Damen nodded, throat tight, and started walking back the way he came from with Laurent in tow. Once they were safely alone in the corridor, Damen angled his head towards Laurent and spoke quietly, “does she know?”

Laurent looked at him, some annoyance settling back on his face. “Does she know what? About us? No. Though I'm sure after last evening and whatever that was just now, she's starting to put it together,” he added dryly.

Damen colored slightly. “Right. Sorry about that." He wasn't actually sorry. "But no, I mean, does she know about your uncle?”

Laurent rounded on Damen, anger flaring up easily after his recent fight. He hissed his answer. “No and I don't intend for her to. My childhood trauma is not for other's consumption.”

Damen was taken aback. “Gods, no, that's not what I meant either.” He took Laurent's arm, and maneuvered him into an empty room. It reminded him of Auguste doing the same to him only yesterday. Laurent was trying to pull his arm away from him, so Damen released him quickly and shut the door behind them. “I meant does she know about your uncle trying to kill you?”

Laurent was smoothing out his jacket, and getting his breathing back under control. He was clearly wound up tight with his uncle on his mind to make that leap, and Damen could see him consciously quieting his mind to calm himself. “Oh," he finally said. "Yes, she knows about that. It didn't seem right for her to join the royal family without knowing the kind of attention she'd get for it.”

Damen ignored the pain that thought caused for now, and tried to help calm Laurent without touching him. He leaned against the door, giving Laurent the space he clearly required right now, but kept his body language open to him, in case he wanted to seek comfort there. He kept the conversation going in the direction that seemed to be grounding Laurent. “And she still doesn't want to be guarded?”

Laurent huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Still agitated then, but focused on the present, which was a good sign. “She seems to think she's of better use not drawing attention to herself or her strengths. She thinks that, if left alone, she can slink about like some thief in the night collecting clues and evidence to bring down the whole system of deceit. Guards are ‘too clunky and noticeable’, and would be 'a hindrance to her assets’ she says.” Laurent clearly thought this was a ridiculous train of thought, but Damen was almost endeared by Laurent's fiancée, though he'd never admit it.

“And what if she hides her strength so well, that she attracts the attack as the vulnerable link?” Damen asked instead. It's what he would've said to Laurent. In fact he felt like he had had an eerily similar conversation with Laurent in the past.

Laurent was truly in the present now, animated with incredulity. “That's the maddest part! ‘Underestimated is the favored ground’ she said," Laurent imitated Alaia with a lower voice for some unfathomable reason, and drew a smirk from Damen. "She thinks that if she can draw out an attack on herself, she will be able to have the element of surprise and unmask at least part of their party. She's putting herself out as common bait!”

Damen couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, and once it was out, he couldn't stop it. Laurent looked at him like he was mad.

“What,” Laurent asked, completely baffled, “is so funny?”

Damen was still smiling as he settled down from his outburst, and faced Laurent fondly. “Are you serious? She sounds just like you!”

“What,” Laurent asked again, not seeing the humor, “are you talking about?”

“What?” Damen couldn't help but tease, “her mad scheme is too schemey for your scheme?" He laughed again. "Is your perfect match truly just you with a Vaskian heritage?”

“Stop it,” Laurent shoved at Damen's shoulder with one hand, but Damen just caught it in his own. Laurent was biting back a smile now that was forming without his consent.

“You should just lean into it, and get matching disguises.” Damen countered, still laughing. “Together you'd be the worst spies ever. The Prince and Princess of Vere, slinking around the local tavern with horsehair wigs and rubbed on dirt. With clothes sewn by Jord!” 

"Don't make fun," Laurent said, openly smiling now. "You don't know what kind of hidden talents Jord could have." He tried to shove Damen again with his other hand, but Damen just caught that one too. Now he had both of Laurent's hands held in his.

"I'd like to see it," he said softly.

“This is a very serious situation,” Laurent insisted.

Damen quieted. He was still smiling, but his tone grew more serious, and he held Laurent's hands close to his chest. “I know. And I'm taking it very seriously."

Laurent stopped struggling to free his hands and stepped closer. He laid his head over them on Damen's chest so he wasn't making eye contact anymore. A moment passed before Damen heard, “I am sorry, by the way.”

Damen's stupid heart skipped a beat, which Laurent could probably feel against his cheek. “For what?”

Keeping his head where it was, Laurent answered, “for making that leap to think you were asking about my past with my uncle. I do not know why I thought you would go there. I was just frazzled after my conversation with Alaia. She kept mentioning that I selected my guard when I was fifteen and also in danger, but she has no idea what form that danger was in at the time. It's just been… darkening my thoughts lately.”

Damen didn't know what to say. He had promised a long time ago to kill Laurent's uncle, or at least watch while Laurent killed him, so he didn't need to make that promise again. Instead, he let go of Laurent's hands so he could wrap his arms around Laurent's waist, and he kissed the top of his head to try and take some of those dark thoughts away. They stayed that way for a while, Damen leaning against the door, lips to Laurent's crown, Laurent in his arms leaning against him. They matched each other's breathing, giving and taking comfort from each other. 

Until someone tried to burst into the room behind them, slamming into Damen's back. 

"Ouch," said Damen as Laurent bounced a few feet away from him.

“Laurent, let me into this room at once,” a voice said from the other side of the door. It was Auguste, and he was using his King voice.

Damen looked at Laurent for confirmation. Laurent gave him a shrug, so Damen turned around and opened the door to a very disgruntled looking Auguste. “Hello,” was all Damen got out before Auguste shoved his way in. 

“What is going on in here?” Auguste demanded of his brother. 

Laurent looked evenly back at him. “We were talking.”

“In a private room?” Auguste pressed.

“I wanted to know more about the situation with your uncle,” Damen added honestly. The mention of his uncle made Laurent flinch minutely though, and Damen hated himself for bringing him back to the forefront. 

Auguste ignored Damen, still focused on Laurent. “Why when I ran into Alaia just now, did she say Prince Damianos stole you away for a private word?" Auguste raised his eyebrows high, and added, "her emphasis.”

Laurent nearly held back his laugh, but a scoff escaped. Auguste was not impressed. “Because she's vexed at me for insisting on the guard,” Laurent explained. And then after he thought about it for a moment longer, “and probably because Damianos called me ‘his prince.’”

“What?” Auguste stopped ignoring Damen to look at him, aghast. “Why?”

“I was trying to be formal!” Damen defended himself, as Laurent covered another laugh. He was turning red at the attention, and he hoped no one noticed. “Laurent kept calling me ‘Prince Damianos’, and I was trying to match the tone!” 

Auguste looked at him like he was dense. “Damen, 'Prince Damianos' is literally your title. Why didn't you just call him ‘Prince Laurent?’”

“Come on, Auguste," Laurent cajoled. "This is the man that told us to call him by his smallname the very first time he met us. He has no head for etiquette.”

“Vere has too many rules,” Damen muttered. Then he looked beseechingly at Laurent. “Lazar always calls you ‘my Prince.'”

“Yes, because we should all take etiquette lessons from Lazar,” Auguste scoffed, clearly still miffed from their interaction this morning.

Laurent was still trying to stop a smile at Damen's expense, but mostly failing. “I am literally Lazar's Prince," he explained. "He is a citizen of Vere, and has sworn an oath of fealty to me as part of the Prince's Guard on top of it. For you to say it is either extremely intimate, or borderline treasonous to Akielos.”

“Is that why Damianos looks so guilty?" Auguste asked dryly, "because he is plotting treason against Akielos?”

“He looks like that because you are looking so accusingly at him!” Laurent defended. “You know how he is. He has a guilty conscience. He is probably thinking of every time he might have made some perceived slight against you, or every time we've fucked behind a closed door.”

Now Damen was so red it would be impossible not to notice. It didn't help that Laurent knew him extremely well, and was mostly correct.

Auguste ran a hand down his face. “Let's start over. What are you guys doing in here?”

Laurent crossed his arms. “Talking about Uncle,” he said darkly, amusement now gone. 

“Okay,” Auguste said, settling down and facing them both. “What do we know?” 

They stood around talking for a while, and it almost felt like old times, three friends puzzling out the wrongs of the world, and strategizing how to fix them. Whenever they were feeling particularly idealistic or ambitious, they would do this for hours. In their rooms after dinner, by the stream after swimming, or under an apricot tree after a long ride, they would sit together and discuss the pitfalls of society - slavery, hunger, lack of access to child education, joblessness - and how they could work to solve them when they were in power. That time had come for Auguste, and by association for Laurent, and Theomedes had given more and more over to Damen in the past years. They brought a lot of these conversations to the council rooms, but still they would talk into the night about issues that they wanted to bring up and what more they could be doing to help people. 

This was just a particularly evil sort of society that they were trying to solve. And there was another glaring difference too. Laurent was on the other side of the room to him, arms crossed or by his side, but definitely nowhere near Damen. If they were having this conversation a year ago, Damen would be sitting next to Auguste, with Laurent tucked under his arm. Laurent would be just as involved in the conversation, while also playing with Damen's fingers. Now they were speaking the same, but everyone was standing a little ways apart, body language a little wary of each other.

“Where is he now?” Damen inquired.

“Chastillon,” Auguste answered.

“Where there are plenty of underage servants running around unprotected,” Laurent added darkly.

“You don't know that,” Auguste tried to reason.

“Oh?" Laurent asked sarcastically. "It was just a coincidence his last ‘ward’ that you made him give up was sent there to find work?”

“We can't feasibly keep every child in Vere out of his sight all of the time!” Auguste argued, frustrated, and clearly having had this exact conversation before.

“I can think of one or two ways we could accomplish that exact thing,” Laurent drawled out. Damen privately concurred.

“Yes,” Auguste agreed, trying to pacify his brother, “and we are trying to get there. But we can't exactly execute him with no evidence. And I can't allow either of you to do anything that would make the council demand your exile. Or in Damen's case, demand war.” He gave them both pointed looks.

Damen considered briefly again that starting a war could be worth it, but instead he asked, “Is he staying there indefinitely?” 

“No,” said Laurent. “We'd never be so lucky. He should be back within the week. He wouldn't let his leeches here run dry. They might look for the next source to suck off of.” Laurent truly looked disgusted at the idea.

"So what happens when he does come back?" Damen asked, hoping desperately for a plan of attack that put Laurent's uncle directly in his path. 

Laurent and Auguste looked at each other, and Damen had to quell the urge to step in between them so they couldn't cut him out of the conversation. Finally they looked back at him. Laurent shrugged one shoulder, which did nothing to settle Damen's nerves. 

"Business as usual," Laurent replied flatly. "Watching our backs. Standing up to his backwards ideas in council meetings. Paying attention to who he meets with, who is spouting his talking points. Hoping our network of spies infiltrates his network of spies, and not the other way around." He glanced back at Auguste, and added, "watching what we eat more."

Auguste sighed and looked again like the entire world was on his shoulders. Damen understood. Vere, and more centrally, Laurent, were Auguste's whole world. "Getting a full time guard on Alaia," he added to Laurent's list, meeting his glance. Laurent nodded, mentally adding it.

"And what of me?" Damen asked, earning two blue gazes his way again. "What can I do?"

Laurent looked at him quizzically for a moment before saying, "unless you'd like to take up baking your own bread, I don't think much. I'd suggest staying out of his way."

Damen's blood was near boiling level, and he thought he was going to explode. "Fuck that. I'm here. He's clearly gearing up for his big move. I'm definitely not staying out of his way."

Auguste's hand was back in his hair, trying to keep everyone calm. "Damen, you're here representing Akielos, and more importantly Vere's relationship with Akielos. Your presence is already in our favor. Spread the good word. You support my rule. Our mutual prosperity depends on it. Trade is up and our countries are more bountiful than ever." Auguste was waving his hand with each new line, stoking Damen's frustration.

"Got it," he said. "'Do what I am already doing.' What else?"

Auguste blew out his own frustrated breath. "There is nothing else. We've been living under this threat for over a year. Longer. We're doing the best we can to unravel his twisted mind, and trying to run a country on top of it. And doing it so faultlessly that he cannot point to anything as evidence I am unfit to rule. You have not been here. You do not know the half of it. You are going to have to trust us on this one."

Damen grasped for something, anything he could do to help. "I could - do something. Protect Laurent." Laurent scoffed, but Damen ignored it. "Or assign some of my guard to whatever you need." 

Auguste rubbed at his forehead. "Damen, you don't even have enough of a guard to watch over yourself. Look, I just - I came in here because I needed to talk to Laurent about something. Can you give us a minute? Please?"

Damen was shocked silent. He tried to look at Laurent for support, but his eyes were firmly on the ground, not a sliver of blue left for Damen to grab onto. He finally huffed his assent, and spun around to give the brothers the privacy they so clearly desired. He shut the door harder than was necessary on his way out, and stomped all the way to the opposite wall. He turned around to lean his back against it, facing the closed door again with crossed arms. He wasn't going to go far, so he just stood and seethed while he waited. Auguste and Laurent both had guards flanking the door, but Damen avoided eye contact while he stared at the door as if he could see through it, at whatever the Veretian brothers wanted to hide from him.

After an excruciating interval where Damen visualized himself charging back in there with the right words for the stubborn mules to listen to him for once at least a dozen times, the door opened, and Laurent emerged. He met Damen's eyes for an extremely intense second before he dropped his gaze back to the ground and left the way he came with his guard flanking him. 

There was no way he was getting away without a word to Damen, and Damen was about to follow him when Auguste also emerged and stopped him. 

"Damen. Walk with me. Please." 

Damen looked again at Laurent's retreating back before meeting Auguste's eyes that were clearly telling him it wasn't a request. 

Making no effort to hide his frustration, Damen motioned with his hand for Auguste to precede him.

They fell into step with Auguste's two guards behind them at a distance they could pretend to be discreet at. 

Damen stubbornly waited for Auguste to say the first word, and was vindicated when he didn't have to wait long.

"You cannot keep trailing him like some lovesick fool."

The vindication was wiped away, completely replaced by indignation. "Excuse me? You don't think I deserve some sort of explanation after all of that?" 

"And here I am to give it to you," Auguste returned. "You do not have to follow him for it."

"Maybe I'm looking for some explanations from him directly," Damen grumbled.

"I don't think you are owed anything from him," Auguste countered. "Not without explanations of your own. And now is not the time."

"I have explanations. I need to talk to him to give them," Damen argued.

"I believe you had plenty of time last night then," Auguste returned.

"Gods above, Auguste!" Damen fumed. "What the fuck? Did you not just approve my suit yesterday?"

"'Approve' is a strong word," Auguste amended. "I said I would not stand in your way."

Damen grumbled, "this feels a lot like -"

"And you said you were going to ask for his hand!" Auguste interrupted, anger pushing through his feigned cool. "Not spend the night with him your very first night here and sequester him in abandoned rooms for clandestine meetings! Are you so averse to just courting him properly?"

Damen huffed a disbelieving breath. As if he hadn't spent an entire summer researching Veretian courting traditions and getting more and more dubious advice from the Veretians around him. He had tried to put it into practice then, feeling the most awkward and shy he had ever felt in his whole short life, but Laurent had whisked him away from the palace at the first opportunity he got and everything had fallen into place after that.

That was over four years ago now, and Auguste had no idea what he was talking about. 

"He was sick!" Damen defended himself for last night again. "And like you just said, now is not the time or place for a formal proposal," he argued instead of defending his and Laurent's prior courtship. "Would you like me to state my intentions in front of his fiancée and the whole council while they are preparing for a wedding and while guests are arriving? Should I split his focus and add to his stress while you are fighting off this insidious threat from within?" He prodded Auguste. "No, this will be between Laurent and me. Privately. When the time is right."

"Your time is running out," Auguste persisted, "and I will not have the family I have left be embarrassed or disgraced because you could never use your words properly."

Damen let out a frustrated growl that he couldn't contain. "What would you have me do? This is a lot, and I'm just trying to keep up. I came here to fight one thing and now... I can't even keep track of all there is to fight."

"Mm," Auguste said, unimpressed by Damen's struggle. "Welcome to Vere, Damianos." They had reached an intersection, and Auguste was preparing to leave him. He looked back to get in the last word, because as he said, this was Vere. "And Damen, if your future plans included Laurent, then you should have included Laurent. Goodbye."

Left alone in the hallway with not even a guard to commiserate with on how fucking cryptic Vere always was, Damen let out another frustrated growl when he realized he didn't even get the explanations he required from Auguste. He went to search for Laurent for the second time that day, and the fourth since yesterday, but then he reconsidered. 

First, he was going to write an urgent note to Nikandros to bring as much food as he could carry from Delpha to Arles, and have it delivered straight to Laurent's rooms. But no honeyed apricots, as Damen wasn't sure if he could ever look at them again.

Chapter Text

Laurent was avoiding him, he was sure of it. 

Either that, or everyone in Vere seemed to be working to keep them apart since that chance meeting in the hallway and subsequent scolding from Auguste. If Damen ran into Laurent in the hallway or the training yard, Laurent would be in a deep conversation with whoever was closet to him, sending him nothing but an apologetic glance. If Damen stayed around to try to grab his attention afterwards, Laurent would suddenly remember something else he had to do in the opposite direction. He always seemed harried enough that it could be plausible, but after days of the same treatment, Damen saw it for the avoidance it was. 

Less ambiguous was Auguste's clear interference. If Damen and Laurent ever found themselves drifting towards each other at the end of a meal or a council meeting, Auguste would be there to pull one of them into a 'very important' conversation with a random courtier that wanted to discuss the latest Akielon imports or something equally inane. If they so much as caught each other's eye within a group, Auguste would call Laurent away to assist him with some royal responsibility that almost certainly didn't actually exist.

Even more grating, Auguste had decided to assign guards to escort Damen to his rooms each night when he retired. He passed it off as wanting to loan Damen some help while he was still awaiting his full guard to Arles, but the latent intent was obvious. Laurent caught on to it too, of course, and Damen was at least gratified that it didn't look like Laurent had any part in that decision. The first time Auguste had offered Damen two of his personal guards after dinner to escort Damen to his rooms, and then take the night shift so his own guard could 'get a full night's rest for once,' Damen was too shocked to do anything else but agree to it. He caught the silent fight between the brothers on his way out, and by the looks of it, it promised to be a much louder fight when they were in private. 

Most worryingly though, was the fact that Laurent was skipping meals. He was present for enough of them to avoid any speculation, but often, Damen would see Alaia sitting alone, or maybe engaged in conversation with Auguste or a guest of the palace on whatever night it was. He probably saw Alaia eating in the hall more than either brother to be honest, as Auguste was absent a few times as well. He knew they had their reasons right now to avoid the food being served, but it was still odd to see Alaia sitting at the high table alone on those occasions.

Damen couldn't help but try to assess Laurent when he was in front of him, even if he couldn't get him alone. He appeared paler and thinner to Damen, and Damen wondered if Laurent was truly looking gaunt, or if it was just Damen's worries about if he was eating enough being projected over reality.

What was obvious though, were the dark circles under Laurent's eyes. Damen remembered what Laurent had said to Auguste that first night about not sleeping well lately, and wondered if he was still afflicted. He imagined Laurent finding himself in the middle of another assassination attempt that he hadn't even realized he was in the middle of would have affected his sleep somewhat, but who was he letting take care of him?

He obviously wasn't letting Damen anywhere near him. Jord was busy doing the work of three men, between his normal guard routine, getting and training new recruits, and trying to find safe routes within the castle for Laurent's necessities. And there was even a visible strain between Laurent and Auguste at the moment. They sent long looks at each other that no longer held their usual mischievous glints, but heavy words and dark implications. Damen thought Alaia had noticed as well, though she tried not to show it. She still brought them both into conversation with her and others as much as possible, but their relaxed camaraderie from what Damen had first seen when he arrived was now absent. 

Damen was going out of his skin, not being able to check in with Laurent and see how he was doing. He wanted to know where his head was at, and if he was getting enough food or enough sleep. He wanted to touch him and see that he was being taken care of. He wanted to hold him through the night and make sure he was sleeping, and not pacing all night plotting more far fetched schemes. Or worse, disappearing to the town outside the fortress at night to rendezvous with all sorts of questionable companions. 

Damen was ruminating on all of this one afternoon, wondering if Laurent had discovered anything new yet about his uncle, and how they could come up with a plan to put this matter to rest for good so they could focus on what Damen really wanted to get to, when he almost ran into the man hanging over all of their thoughts. 

"Prince Damianos. How unexpected. I had heard you had arrived comically early for the festivities, but I did assume you had better things to do besides skulk about the hallways."

Damen turned startled eyes on Laurent's uncle, and had to violently repress the sudden and visceral urge to pounce on him, wrap his hands around his neck, and squeeze until he could never utter another vile word.

"Your Highness," he said instead, nodding, and Laurent would be so proud of him for the use of formalities. He tried to step around the monster, but he just stepped back into Damen's path to stop him.

"Oh, you don't have to go so fast, do you?" he asked, faux sweetly. "It's been so long since you've been in Vere. Why, Laurent hadn't even met his fiancée the last time you were here, no?"

Damen stopped, but didn't say anything in return, trying to wipe the murderous look off of his face. Relative hostility would have to do in this situation.

"Well?" the uncle went on, "what brings you to Vere in such advance of the happy occasion?"

Damen looked at the uncle's face, trying to gauge what he was trying to get from him. He wasn't as good at determining motivations as Laurent was, but he still understood that playing neutral and unaffected was the right angle here. 

"As you said," Damen replied, and he was thankful that it sounded much calmer than he could've hoped, "it has been a long time. There was much in Vere that needed Akielos' attention, and I used the invitation to the wedding as an opportunity to make the trip. Lengthening the one visit was much more efficient than having to make separate trips for diplomacy and celebration." 

"Ah yes," the uncle said, studying Damen, "that famed Akielon efficiency. I cannot wait to see what sort of thing needed attending to by the crown prince himself."

Damen forced himself to keep looking back at this man when he wanted to just run a sword through him and walk away to find Laurent and take him away from here. "I'm sure you'll be in the same council meetings as I am."

The uncle nodded, still assessing Damen's every reaction. "That we will," he said before changing tracks and smiling. Damen was sure it was supposed to be charming, but it just made his stomach sick. "And so? Have you met the bride to be then? Such a lovely girl. Seems a bit rushed to me, though maybe I am just old fashioned in that way."

On high alert now, Damen tried to navigate an answer that didn't insinuate any strong feelings one way or the other. "Yes, I have met Alaia. I guess when you know, you know, you know? You don't need to wait after that."

The uncle grinned a pitying grin that twisted Damen's insides. He scented something in that nothing answer, but Damen didn't know what. "But surprising, to be sure. Veretian courtships are typically long to dissuade any debate of anticipated vows, something I thought you would understand after your own. I shudder to think that could be the case here. A bastard in the royal family would bring such shame and criticism." He blinked as if just remembering something. "No offense meant to the Akielon royal family, of course. It is just different in Vere. Laurent would have to step down from his role and inheritance, instead of being allowed to muddy succession lines. Well, time will tell. A large baby cannot be passed off as an early baby after all, and she certainly has the familial attributes for size."

Damen flexed his fist, suddenly sympathetic to why Kastor always hated coming to Vere. He wondered how much of that sentiment was whispered in his hearing, and how much was said straight to his face. Unfortunately, the repulsive man took Damen's silence as permission to continue.

"Laurent's always had such... wild tastes." He looked Damen up and down pointedly here, and Damen tried not to squirm. "And Aleron and Auguste always allowed him too much freedom in his amorous pursuits. He was always so desperate for affection. Aleron never gave enough of it I'm afraid, gods rest his soul. I tried to fill some of that hole for young Laurent, but, well.... Nothing was ever enough for the boy."

Rage was flooding Damen's veins now, and he knew he needed to get out of there. He didn't have his dagger on him, a lucky thing, because if he did, it would have already been in the throat of the man in front of him to stop the bile flooding out of his mouth.

The uncle looked knowingly at Damen now. "I'm sure you know that just as well as I do. He has always been entitled. Outrageous for a second son in my opinion, I should know, but -" he took a breath. "Oh, but you are a second son as well! How odd to see a second son actually entitled to everything. Your bast- brother is certainly in an odd position. How curious."

Damen ignored the jabs at his family and tried to speak diplomatically for Laurent. "I believe Prince Laurent wants what is best for Vere, as he always will. He is the heart of the nation, as the crown prince. As King Auguste is the head."

Laurent's uncle's smile turned vicious, and Damen braced himself for where he went wrong again. He was not conditioned for this sort of attack, didn't know where to look for the next strike. "Still defending him? Even after all this time? I'm sure Akielos doesn't like to see their own crown prince heartbroken over a Veretian." Damen sucked in a breath, knowing he had fucked up, but couldn't defend himself before the uncle went on. "I get it, I do. He was such a sweet boy, and you of course knew him at his sweetest. It is hard not to see him as that wide eyed boy still, so eager to please." He looked suggestively at Damen, and Damen wanted to vomit, but then his face hardened. "But he has lost that innocence, hasn't he? Lost the shine of youth, and what made him so beloved. He has grown into a hard man, an angry, bitter man. And I just hope you are not caught up in his games."

"He is not bitter but for those who would take from him what was not theirs to take!" Damen was supposed to be holding his tongue. Why was that always so difficult with this man? He could think of a dozen things he'd rather be throwing in his face than words. 

But the uncle already looked victorious. It was unnerving as much as it was infuriating. 

"Careful, Prince Damianos," he smiled. "I'd hate to think you were projecting your own court problems onto Vere."

Damen didn't just mean the throne, but if he had already lost, he saw no point in beating around the bush. How could the uncle feel he had any real power here?

"King Auguste and Prince Laurent have the backing of the four countries on the continent. I don't think they need to play games."

"Ah, yes," the uncle sneered, mask off. "The elder whores out the younger for an army. Three in fact." He looked down his nose at Damen. "And you still don't feel used?"

Damen wouldn't let him know how much that barb landed. Not that Auguste would ever do such a thing, but did he still feel used? No, not really. He had given his whole self to Laurent, and Laurent had just... had enough. There wasn't anything else to it. The uncle was just throwing everything at him, waiting for something to unsettle him. He wouldn't let it work.

"My relationship with Prince Laurent was private." Intentionally. "Unofficial." Unfortunately. "We both got what we wanted out of it." A lie. "And it is now over." Not if Damen had anything to say about it. "I am here to shore up foreign relations, and celebrate a wedding. Nothing else." Actually to cause an international incident and stop a wedding, but that's also private.

Laurent's uncle looked him over, clearly not believing him, but knowing that he wouldn't get anything else from him at this time. Damen was biting his tongue so hard, he could taste blood. He let himself fantasize about dripping with the uncle's blood instead. 

"Well," the uncle said finally, "don't let me keep you from your 'international relations.' I know Vere has plenty of your preferred style to choose from." As if Damen could even look at another blond without comparing them to Laurent anymore. He'd have to swear off them forever if he couldn't have Laurent again. "Watch your step," he nodded at the ground as if the stone was uneven, but Damen heard the threat loud and clear.

Damen didn't say anything back as he finally stepped around the man taunting him. As he turned the corner, Damen's steps quickened, his thoughts much more urgent than they had been ten minutes ago.

--

Damen spent the rest of the day going back over the uncle's words. Was there anything helpful to them? Did they point to a master plan? Or did they just serve to make the listener as uncomfortable as possible. Mission fucking accomplished, if so. Damen doubted there was anything revealing there. The uncle clearly tracked Damen's unresolved feelings, and was just taunting him. 

He desperately wanted to talk to Laurent about it, but he was again a ghost until dinner, and by then any chance at a private conversation was lost. 

Damen wasn't even sure if he would see Laurent at dinner tonight, but as soon as he walked into the great hall, his eyes locked on his familiar form at the high table. Damen noted all the differences in the royal family from the first night of his trip when he had walked into the hall to see them together.

Gone were the relaxed conversation and easy smiles. There was no obvious comfort between the occupants of the high table tonight. They managed to keep their shoulders relaxed, but their backs were unnaturally straight, and faces unanimated as they turned limited words on each other and picked at their food. There wasn't an open seat to the left of Auguste tonight either, Damen's usual spot taken by their godsforsaken uncle, the spot to the left of him left open for Damen. 

As Damen got closer, he picked up on the additional strain from the occupants. Alaia was the worst at hiding it, frustration evident in her frown and in her overly strong use of her fork to stab her food. Damen could imagine she was visualizing stabbing something very different than her garlic chicken. She would throw the occasional beseeching look at Laurent or Auguste, but from what Damen had seen, she had as yet gone ignored, the brothers only turning their eyes on their food, each other, or blankly at their uncle. 

The uncle was the only one sporting what looked like a genuine smile, obviously reveling in the foreboding atmosphere he had wrought with just his presence.

"Prince Damianos," Auguste greeted as Damen stepped up to the empty chair next to the uncle. "Late again?"

Damen wasn't about to own up to the fact that he had gone to Laurent's rooms again before dinner to try and catch him for a conversation. 

"I apologize, Your Grace. I got caught up in correspondence and lost track of time."

Auguste's uncle turned interested eyes on this conversation, probably curious as to what had caused this cold communication between the old friends. Well, if it was Auguste's goal to hide his allies, they didn't have to work too hard to project a currently tenuous relationship. Small mercies.

"You remember our esteemed uncle?" Auguste asked, not deigning to gesture at the man seated next to him.

"Of course," Damen said easily. "We caught up in the hall already." Damen felt Laurent's eyes snap to his face, but kept his own on Auguste. He could tell by the uncle's gaze, however, that he had tracked his nephew's attention, and he turned a thoroughly amused smile back on Damen. 

"We did," the tormentor agreed. "We went over Damianos' plans for his extended stay. His ideas about foreign relations are endlessly interesting, as his reputation reveals." His smile turned suggestive and Damen wanted to recoil away. Only a graphic visual of the man before him bleeding out on the ground kept him in his seat.

"Yes, yes, we all know of Prince Damianos' reputation," Alaia chimed in, and Damen was shocked enough to break eye contact with the uncle to look over at her. She seemed to have regained some of her confidence in the last few minutes, and she turned amused eyes on Laurent and Auguste who had also been startled enough to look back at her. "What?" she asked the brothers. "Don't tell me the tales don't reach Vere, that revels in such gossip." She looked back at Damen, mischief sparking in her hazel eyes. "It's a much appreciated story in Vask, at least. The record was six hours, wasn't it?"

"Seven," Damen corrected automatically while Laurent stiffened with annoyance. Damen's cheeks flamed as he was caught between euphoria at finally getting a genuine reaction out of Laurent, and mortification at having his younger self be discussed in present company.

Alaia laughed, however, and some of the tension pressing down on them was released. Not all of it. Dinner was still a tense affair, tenser than it had been when Damen was just feeling cut off from the group, but at least they were talking again, conversation flowing freely, and thankfully away from Damen's previous exploits. Auguste and Laurent seemed to relax minutely, and started to actually eat the food in front of them, but the conversation between them and their uncle still felt volatile, like every word hid a fatal trap.

Somehow making it all the way to dessert without taking a full breath, Damen felt a flicker of relief when he saw the sweetmeats come out. It was almost over. He chanced a glance at Laurent to see if he was feeling the same, but Laurent's eyes were on a specific plate of sweet breads, face gone tellingly blank again.

Damen's uneasiness remounted when the uncle grabbed the same plate, and giddily pushed it towards Laurent. 

"Surprise, nephew!" he crowed, not stopping until the plate was directly in front of Laurent. "I brought you a gift from Chastillion!" He smiled sickeningly sweet at Laurent. "Remember how I used to sneak these into your room at night? They were your favorite."

Auguste's jaw clenched, and Damen could see his muscles tense as his flexed his fists. Laurent however, remained indifferent, placing his napkin back on the table.

"Thank you, Uncle," he said evenly, "but I really couldn't eat another bite."

"Come on," his uncle goaded. "You always loved these when we visited together. You would beg me to bring them to you."

Laurent shrugged a single shoulder, as elegant and infuriating as ever. "I've already had my final fitting for my wedding costume," he explained. "I really can't splurge right now."

"Oh, but I brought a kitchen boy from Chastillion directly to you in order to make these specially," his uncle went on, not letting up. "Just for you. A wedding gift."

Alaia butt in then, enthusiastically sitting forward. "For the wedding? These little things? Well then I must try one as well!" She shot a teasing look at Laurent, who had remained still despite his uncle's encouragements. "Laurent, you didn't tell me about these when we were tasting cakes the other day." She reached over Laurent to grab a roll. Auguste made an aborted move to stop her but it went mostly unnoticed as her sleeve caught on her wine glass and spilled all over the plate of sweet breads. "Oh dear!" Alaia exclaimed, eyes wide and concerned. She turned those wide eyes on Laurent and then his uncle. "I'm so sorry! I'm not used to the volume of these sleeves! There's so many layers and frills, I can hardly tell where the end of my arm is."

Laurent's uncle had moved his chair back to avoid the spreading splash of red wine. He looked down at his feet and then back at her distastefully, jeering smile now gone. "Yes," he responded, "I'm sure you are used to much less clothing in Vask."

"Yes," Alaia giggled nervously, "but I suppose we will have another chance to try them!" she added placatingly. "As you have graciously supplied the kitchen staff that can supply them to us." She tried a winning smile in his direction. The uncle was unmoved. Auguste was still frowning. But she had teased a small smile out of Laurent finally, and Damen's heart lightened to see it.

"Yes," Laurent said, nodding at Alaia before turning back to his uncle. "Thank you for the generous gift. I will go to the kitchens to personally thank them after the meal."

The uncle still looked slightly put out, but tried to smooth over his expression. "Lovely," he finally said. "I will make sure they are ready to receive you." And with that, he pushed fully away from the table and swept off to crawl into whatever coffin he spent his free time in.

"Welcome home, Uncle," Auguste called out, turning to watch him leave. 

Laurent turned back and reached for Alaia's hand and brought it to his lips. "Thank you," he said quietly for her ears only. 

She smiled at him, and then shared a soft smile with Auguste, but Damen had to look away. Emotion was clogging his throat, a result of the tense dinner and confrontation, the relief of Alaia's save, and then being faced with their teamwork and affection.

"I'm going to go to the kitchens, and see what awaits me there," Laurent announced to their small group. He looked back at Alaia. "Do you want me to escort you to your rooms before I go?"

Alaia let out a long breath. "No," she said, "that was exhausting. I think I'd be happy to just sit a little longer." 

Laurent squeezed her hand one more time before releasing her. Damen wished he wasn't so aware of it. "Okay. Enjoy your sit. You've earned it." He looked at Auguste and asked him a silent question.

"Go," Auguste answered out loud. How thoughtful for him to include the rest of them. "I've got her. Come tell me what you find afterwards."

Laurent left then with a nod in his direction, and Damen lasted all of two minutes before he got up to follow him. Auguste caught his eye as he stood, and tried to pass on a silent message just for Damen with his eyes this time. Damen pretended he had no idea what Auguste was insinuating, and just waved in his direction as he took his exit. Auguste rolled his blue eyes, so like Laurent's when he did that, but something the brothers of Vere would have to learn from Damen is that a silent conversation takes two consenting parties. And that a shrug is not an answer. But he'd have to get to that lesson later. 

When Damen reached the doors to the kitchen, Laurent was nowhere to be found, but one of his guards that Damen recognized was posted outside, so Damen assumed Laurent was still inside. Damen decided he would wait him out, so he leaned against the wall with the guard in his sights, and waited.

When Laurent burst out of the doors not ten minutes later, his color was high, and his eyes were flashing furiously. They landed on Damen straightening off the wall, and Damen's breath caught at the intensity there.

"Get Auguste." It took a second for Damen to realize Laurent was aiming the order at him.

"Wait," he stammered back. "What - Laurent, what is it, what is wrong?"

But Laurent's singular focus was on whatever was behind his fury, and moving Laurent's attention when it was focused on a goal was nearly impossible.

"Damen, get Auguste. His boy cannot be more than ten, and maybe less than that. We need Auguste."

Damen just nodded, and said, "okay. Okay, we'll be right back," before rushing back to the great hall to get Laurent what he needed.

Luckily, Auguste didn't need any convincing, and after a glance at Malik who came over to escort a surprised Alaia, he followed Damen back to the kitchens, having no trouble keeping his pace. 

"What is it?" he asked as they stopped just short of outright running back to the kitchens. "Is Laurent -"

"He's fine," assured Damen, which wasn't completely true, but it was true enough for what Auguste meant. "It's your uncle's kitchen boy. He's not more than ten, and Laurent..."

"Got it," Auguste said grimly, and they somehow picked up their pace further for the remaining distance.

When the kitchens came back into view, Damen saw that Jord had joined Laurent, and Laurent was speaking to him in a low voice. He looked up when he saw Damen and Auguste approach, and waited until they were right in front of him to speak, not bothering with explanations.

"He's leaving," he said flatly to Auguste, as if he was the king, and not the other way around. It was a testament to their relationship that such brashness never undermined their connection. They were both comfortable in their roles, and their meaning to each other was clear as ever. He felt a flicker of jealousy that he had never had such a secure relationship with his own brother, but now wasn't the time for such maudlin thoughts.

Auguste shifted uncomfortably, pained eyes on Laurent. "I understand why you want that," he said evenly, "but the palace kitchen isn't the worst place for him, right? We could support him here, and he would learn some good skills to take him further in life."

Laurent narrowed his eyes on his brother. "And when Uncle requests 'thanks' for giving him this position?"

Auguste faltered. "We will give him some protections."

Laurent met Auguste's eyes bravely. "More protection than a prince of Vere had?"

Auguste slumped. "Laurent... I..."

Laurent sighed, but stopped Auguste with a raised hand. He looked tired all of the sudden. "He's leaving, Auguste. Court isn't a place for a young boy. Not while he is still here. I can better protect him away from the palace. You know this. Jord and I are discussing his options."

Auguste nodded. He couldn't disagree. "Okay, you're right. I'll arrange it in the morning."

"Now, Auguste. Please." Laurent pleaded, and Damen knew Auguste would give in. He would too. 

Sure enough, Auguste nodded, and just said, "okay, what did you have in mind?"

Laurent hugged his brother tightly, murmuring his thanks, and Auguste held him back, whispering reassurances into his hair. A small flame of warmth ignited in Damen at the sight. He was warmed by the the fact that the brothers had this with each other, but also by the fact that they trusted him enough to see this side of them. This sweet, vulnerable side that is hidden away from court where they present a strong, invincible force. Damen loves both sides of them, and is still so thankful he gets to know both sides. He still wants his place in it, but this is okay for now. Knowing that it still exists is enough.

When Laurent pulled away, he blinked wet eyes up at Damen. Damen's heart leapt into his throat.

"Thanks, Damen," he said, "for being here. For helping."

Damen heard the dismissal and tried to argue. "I can still -"

But Laurent was shaking his head. He gave Damen a thankful smile, but still shook his head. "It is going to be a long night. You've done enough. We will see you tomorrow, okay?"

Damen knew he couldn't argue. It was a fragile moment, and he didn't want to break it. He nodded, and stayed where he was, even though his hands were vibrating with the need to hold onto him. "See you tomorrow then," he said, and watched them walk into the kitchen together with Jord. He stared at the doors for a minute or two longer, before he turned around, and dragged himself to bed to dream of a warm embrace.

--

True to his word, Damen saw Laurent at breakfast the next morning. Despite his alleged late night, he looked regal as always, shining in the morning light. He was sitting with Auguste and Alaia, talking lowly with small smiles on their faces. It was early, and there weren't many people around, but they still sat close together, heads bowed and in their own little world. Damen had to assume whatever they attempted to do last night had gone well. He grabbed some eggs and ham from the side bar, and made his way over to them.

When he got close enough to intrude on their bubble, Laurent looked up, face lighting up at the sight of him. It stole Damen's breath, and he couldn't stop the return smile if he tried. 

"I take it everything went well then?" he asked, sitting across from them, and knocking a foot against Laurent's ankle. 

Laurent looked so adorably proud as he started, "yes. In fact -"

But Damen didn't get to hear the details, because Laurent's uncle took that inopportune time to stomp up to their table with none of his usual grace, shattering whatever good mood had enveloped them just before. 

"I know it was you, nephew," he snarled, glaring daggers at Laurent. "Taking the property of a prince, even as another prince, is punishable by exile."

Laurent looked up, a bored expression on his face. Damen mourned his earlier smile, and added another line to the everlong list of why he hates Laurent's uncle.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Uncle," he drawled. "It is too early for riddles. Or great heists for that matter."

Laurent's uncle lowered his face even with Laurent's, and Auguste subtly shifted his chair in between them. "The kitchen boy, boy," he growled. "He is gone. I held his contract. That makes him my property."

Laurent didn't even flinch as his uncle practically spit in his face. "I still don't know what you are talking about, Uncle," he said, ever calm. "The boy was in the kitchen last night when I went to thank him for the rolls, and that is all I know. Perhaps he ran back home to his family."

Laurent's uncle glared back at him, knowing his words were practically a declaration of guilt. The older prince's more dubious contracts always suspiciously had no real family ties. Laurent would know this, and to pretend otherwise was a mockery. 

The vile man stalked closer to Laurent, walking around Auguste as he did so. Auguste was tensed, ready to act if needed. "Oh don't worry, nephew. He wasn't all that special after all. There are dozens more just like him at Chastillion. And there, everyone knows exactly what you like."

Auguste sprang up and forced his uncle back with a hand on his chest. Damen was up and around the table to stand in between them as well. Laurent hadn't reacted at all, hadn't even moved from his chair. He just stared up at his uncle with the same blank face. Alaia's hand had found his arm, and was holding him protectively.

"You forget yourself, Uncle," Auguste was saying, voice hard. "A threat to a prince is a much greater offence than an alleged theft."

"There was no threat, was there, nephew?" The uncle asked Laurent again. 

Laurent shrugged and agreed calmly, "I didn't hear a threat."

Laurent's uncle scoffed and eyed Auguste and Damen, still standing guard between him and Laurent. 

"I see you still get your protectors by begging on your knees," he said as he turned away, and Auguste made to grab him, but Laurent softly called his brother's name to bring him back to him. Auguste reluctantly stayed still, and turned back.

"I changed my mind," Auguste grumbled as he sat back down heavily. "Damen was right all along. We should just be rid of him, and let the council decide what to do." He looked seriously at Laurent. "If I did it, that would make you the sole heir, Lau. I think it would be worth it. You'd make a great king." 

Laurent rolled his eyes, finally getting some animation back now that his uncle had left. He shook Alaia's hand off his arm, and though she looked upset, she dutifully put her hands back in her lap. Damen felt for her, knowing what it was like when Laurent pushed everyone away when he needed them most. He knew his own touch wouldn't be welcome at the moment either, so he pulled out another chair, and dropped into it so he wasn't so imposing standing over everyone. 

"Not as good as you, and we all know it," Laurent huffed, but Damen didn't necessarily agree. Damen thought Auguste was a great king, but he also thought Laurent undersold himself. He had imagined Laurent on the Akielon throne enough to know what kind of king he thought Laurent would be. "He says that stuff to provoke you, Auguste, not me," Laurent continued, though Damen believed the uncle did it to cause as much pain as possible to everyone in the vicinity. "He's playing you so you do something the council will condemn. Don't let him." 

Auguste tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a frustrated growl. It was very unkingly, and Damen might have smiled if he wasn't still shaken up from the whole exchange. "I know, I know. Gah!" Auguste let his head drop back down and opened his eyes to look at his brother again. "Aren't we normally on opposite sides of this debate?"

Laurent grabbed his glass and took a long drink of water. "Yes," he agreed. "I do not like when you force me to defend his life."

Auguste nodded. "Understandable," he said. "I'll try to go back to being the level headed one. He's just so..." 

"I know," Laurent finished for him.

They tried to go back to breakfast, but the mood had soured, and Laurent excused himself after just a couple of minutes. Damen understood his need to be alone at the moment, and didn't try to follow. He would catch up with him later.

--

But after that breakfast, Laurent turned into a ghost again. After days of no news, Damen went in search of him. He checked all of Laurent's favorite inside places first, the libraries, the kitchens, the random nooks behind tapestries he would disappear into to read or sit in the sun. He poked his head into the throne room, but it was only Auguste in there, giving audience to his people. Damen's heart picked up as he considered. With Auguste busy - and with such a long line of petitioners to be heard - this was Damen's chance to meet with Laurent alone. If he could find him that is. He set out to check Laurent's outside places.

He ended in the stables last, since it was late morning, and Laurent was normally back from an early ride by then. He burst in the door a bit more enthusiastically than intended, but he didn't see the telltale flash of gold, and Laurent's mare was snoozing in her stall. Instead, Alaia was there, alone, brushing down a beautiful white horse with a golden mane. She looked around with surprise at Damen's exuberant entrance.

Feeling caught out, and not wanting to look like he was about to turn right back around just because Laurent wasn't here, he asked the startled stablehand to saddle his horse. Still feigning nonchalance, and ignoring the fact that he was a little short of breath from the run here, he made his way over to Alaia to say hello.

“Hello, Prince Damianos,” she called out to him when she saw him approaching. She was still brushing her beautiful mare, but when he got close enough, she turned her head to say, "it's nice to get out of the palace sometimes, isn't it?"

She was looking at him knowingly, and Damen thought about the oppressive presence in the palace. "Yeah," Damen replied, "it -" he cut himself off, wondering how much she knew now or how much she had inferred for herself. But then, it was obvious to anyone how much tension had filled the air since the uncle's return. The air was so thick and fogged up with it, it was hard to breathe. It felt like danger and malintent was ready to leap out from every shadow, every corner. And Auguste and Laurent were so clearly agitated, it was affecting the whole court and everyone around them. "It really is," he finished.

She hummed in thoughtful agreement and went back to her horse. 

Damen thought he should say something else. Maybe apologize for how hostile he was when he first got here.

“Lady Alaia, I -" 

“There are no ladies in Vask," she interrupted to correct him, "and I am not Veretian yet. Just Alaia will do.” 

Damen internally cringed at his misstep. He really was skilled at diplomacy usually. Under better circumstances at least. “Right. Then I insist you call me just Damen as well,” he responded.

Alaia snorted, and at Damen's questioning glance, she looked back at him and explained, “Prince Laurent had explained to me you were terribly informal. It seems he was right again.”

Damen let out a shocked breath, but couldn't help but laugh with her. “Vere has too many etiquette rules!" he argued. She laughed, but nodded in agreement. "And how have you become so adept at it?" he questioned her good naturedly. "Vask isn't exactly known for its politeness or decorum."

Alaia laughed along with the joke. "It's true. I think half the nobles here expect me to eat with my hands at dinner or start a coupling fire when the entertainments begin." She chuckled at the thought of the more scandalized nobles she had met, but explained anyway. "I was raised close by Empress Vishkar, and entertained many visiting delegations. I think it was always planned that I'd hold some sort of ambassador role outside of Vask when I was old enough. And then I met Prince Laurent, and he offered his proposal..." Damen forced himself to maintain eye contact and not shrink away from where this conversation had led them. "And well, being in Vere, and surrounded by the King and Prince, I suppose the decorum just rubs off on you, you know?"

Damen didn't. It certainly never rubbed off on him, as everyone keeps unhelpfully pointing out. And he had always seen a more relaxed, wilder side of both brothers when he was present. Perhaps it was he who had rubbed off on them. Ugh, and now his mind was occupied by images of rubbing off on Laurent. He reeled in that train of thought before it got away from him. Had he been quiet for too long? Alaia had gone back to brushing her horse, so probably. He should say something to interrupt the silence.

"I don't want to feel like I'm offending anyone by getting their address wrong, and I don't want to have to wonder if they are insulting me by how they address me," Damen explained, picking their conversation back up. "It is better to me if I just head everyone off and insist on what makes me most comfortable in their presence."

“Like calling His Highness ‘My Prince'?” Alaia asked with a teasing glint to her eye.

Damen couldn't stop the blush that overtook his features when she reminded him of his overly intimate address. “That wasn't fair. Prince Laurent, and Auguste - King Auguste - typically just call me Damen in private,” he explained. “He was confusing me with all the formal speaking, and I was just trying to match it. By imitating one of his guards, I should add, who I definitely should not be imitating.” Alaia was smiling at his fluster, so he added to his own deprecation, “I was told I should probably refrain from committing treason to my country in front of others.”

Alaia laughed openly at that. “So you are close to the brothers of Vere then?”

Damen continued to blush at how close they really were. “Yes,” he admitted simply. “I've known Auguste and Laurent for ten years. Our close friendship is the leading reason for Vere's current amicable relationship with Akielos.” 

“Hm,” Alaia hummed thoughtfully. "A twenty-two year old Prince Auguste. I imagine he was much the same as he is now.”

Damen let out a shocked laugh at the thought. “Oh no, no no no." At Alaia's surprised look, he amended, "I mean, yes, mostly, I guess. He's pretty constant in who he is at the core, ideals and morals and all that. But he wasn't King then. The golden Crown Prince Auguste of Vere had an arrogance to him that he could pull off only because he was charming enough. He loved his people, and his people loved him, but he was reckless in a way he could never be with the crown on his head. He thought he was indestructible, but you can't take the same risks with your country, and he understands that because he is a good king. He's really matured quite a bit since becoming king, but he definitely pretends that he didn't enjoy the antics he got up to back then.”

Alaia smiled warmly at the thought of a young and unburdened Auguste. “Yes, I can see that. I am sure you two had that much in common,” she joked.

Damen blushed again. Gods, would any blood be left in his toes at the end of this conversation? “Yes, I suppose we did.”

Alaia put her brush down and gave Damen her full attention. “And what of ten year old Laurent? Has he changed much?”

Damen smiled a real, genuine smile at the thought of ten year old Laurent. This one he didn't need to force at all. He realized Laurent had had his heart for ten years, though of course it didn't feel romantic back then. But he has loved Laurent for exactly who he is since he met him. 

“He was shy,” Damen remembered fondly, “but cutting when he spoke. And he was so, so smart. He thought well beyond his years, and aggravated most of the council when he would challenge their opinions. King Aleron never let him in the council room at that age, but Laurent would give them a piece of that brilliant mind at dinner, or any other time he got the chance.” Damen smiled, warming into the memories. “He challenged more than a few of my previously held beliefs as well, though I'm not sure I appreciated it much at the time.” Damen's smile turned rueful there. “He read so much, and was so idealistic. He loved his brother more than anything, and he was so sure they would change the world for the better together.” 

Alaia smiled brightly at this rendition of Laurent's childhood, and said fondly, “so not much has changed for Laurent since then either.”

Damen's smile turned sad before he could help it, thinking of everything that had changed for Laurent since he had first looked at Damen with those quick, still innocent eyes. He had been through so much hurt at such a young age. “He's seen a lot more of life since then,” he settled on saying. “And he's had some of those ideals tested. But yes, his truest sense of self has remained mostly unchanged. We can thank Auguste for that, I'm sure.”

Alaia looked closely at Damen, looking like she was debating on saying something. “You are fond of him. Both of them.”

Damen shook himself from his reverie and tried to be nonchalant. He wasn't a great actor, and he knew it. “Yes, as I hope they are fond of me. I hope we can be friends in the future as well, you and me.”

Alaia appraised him one more time before nodding to the stablehand coming up behind him with Damen's readied stallion. “You can start by introducing me to this beauty. Is he the one that got you here as if the winds themselves delivered you?”

Damen blushed again, and nodded. “We changed horses quite a few times on the journey, but yes, this one sprinted the last leg for me.”

Alaia came close to let the horse sniff her, and then offered a sugar cube from her pocket. “You blush more than any Akielon I've ever met," she observed. "Your complexion hides a great deal, but you rival the fair King of Vere for how easily it comes to you.” Alaia thought for a moment before adding, “though the other night was the first time I had ever seen Prince Laurent blush. It was very curious.”

Damen knew he was blushing again, so he turned away from her to look at her own horse. Laurent blushed easily with Damen, but thinking of those moments now would be counterproductive to cooling his own face down. “How about your own beauty?" he asked instead. "She was a courting gift, correct? What is her name?”

Clearly happy to talk about her mare, Alaia took the subject change gracefully. “Yes, a gift from his Kemptian side. She truly is a wonder. I named her Starburst.”

Damen's eyebrows shot up. A starburst was the insignia that represented the crown prince of Vere. Laurent, at this point. “Starburst? After…?”

“The golden Crown Prince of Vere, yes, of course!” she said, laughing. “I figured no matter what King Auguste produces for heirs, Vere should always have a golden Starburst. She looks like him, no?”

“Like Laurent?” Damen eyed the white horse with its golden mane braided back lovingly. “She is quite beautiful. Yes, I can see it.”

Alaia laughed harder. “I'm so glad you agree! I got the world's biggest eye roll when I informed Prince Laurent of my choice. I thought those pretty blues would roll right out of his head.”

Damen joined her laughing, picturing Laurent's reaction perfectly. “Eye rolls and shrugs, right? Vere's unofficial second language.”

“So you've seen it too!” She exclaimed, like they were sharing a secret. “She acts a bit like him, too,” she added, contemplating. “Ever graceful and proper, perfect in every step, even with the same hint of sass at times. But when you give her her head, and really run her free, she truly comes alive.”

Damen sat there, stunned at the comparison. Mostly stunned at the realization that he actually liked Laurent's fiancée. That was… unexpected. She seemed to genuinely like Laurent too, and saw him for who he was, not just his looks or who he pretended to be at court. Auguste, too. Like everyone had been telling him since he arrived, it was a good match. Too bad it just made Damen want to throw up. 

He stood there stewing over it until Alaia finished brushing down Starburst, and pulled him out of his thoughts. “Well, I have to get to a dress fitting. Veretian fashion never sleeps. Enjoy your ride, Prince Damianos.”

Damen said his farewells and promised to ride with her another time. He hadn't actually planned on going for a ride, but the stablehand had gone through all the trouble of readying his horse, and he still had no idea where Laurent was hiding, so he figured he might as well use it. He swung up onto the stallion and headed out, letting the wind take away his increasingly troubled thoughts. 

Chapter Text

Damen watched sullenly as Laurent trained. In the last few days, Laurent had picked up a regular schedule again, so Damen knew he would be training with his men this morning. He had started coming more frequently to meals again too, though he still wasn't eating much. Having to sit next to his murderous uncle who was knowingly poisoning him probably took a toll on his appetite. The conversation when the uncle was present was always unsettling and loaded with passive aggression too, so Laurent tried his best to just ignore that side of the table, which unfortunately included Damen more often than not.

Laurent's new schedule was packed so tight, Damen was never able to catch him in a free moment, though that might be more related to the continuing efforts of everyone around him to keep him away from the Veretian crown prince. Damen sometimes wondered if Auguste had labeled him a threat to the crown and recruited the entire palace to keep him at bay. 

And when Laurent wasn't at an official obligation, he was nowhere to be found. Not his rooms, not the libraries, not the stables. It was was like he dropped off the face of the earth when not doing his duties as crown prince, and Damen couldn't even guess where he could be. Though his imagination certainly had no problem placing Laurent in increasingly more dangerous situations, like scaling the castle walls to eavesdrop on his uncle, or single handedly taking on a crowd of anti-crown ruffians with nothing but a dinner fork for a weapon.  

So Damen was able to see Laurent in formal settings only to try and gauge if his cheekbones were looking sharper or if his complexion was looking particularly green. He did note that Laurent was moving with a more practiced poise, as opposed to his looser innate grace, a sure sign that he was still feeling anxious. When Laurent felt cornered, he fell back onto all of his princely training, every step and gesture practiced and perfect. Damen didn't think anyone else would notice it as different to his normal movement, but since Damen had spent many hours watching Laurent move with comfort and confidence, he could pick out this shift to something impersonally perfect, instead of the usual perfection that was singularly Laurent's.

And naturally, all of the formal settings were crowded with other people, and didn't give an opportunity for Damen to question him, like policy meetings, throne room petitions, or here at the training grounds. 

Laurent was with his men down on the field, and Damen was up on a viewing platform, elbows on the guardrail, just watching. He didn't think anyone had noticed him up here yet, but he should probably move soon, just in case. 

He hadn't been this close to Laurent in days, and he hadn't been alone with Laurent since that brief conversation and embrace they had almost two weeks ago now, before Auguste barged in on them and made it his personal mission to ensure it never happened again.

Laurent looked beautiful of course, down to his shirt sleeves, long legs encased in trousers that were tucked into boots that were somehow still shiny, even in the sawdust. His golden hair was braided back, like Starburst, Damen thought ridiculously, and he was clearly exerting himself, his skin tinted a pretty pink. Damen occupied his thoughts by guessing just how far that flush went. 

Alaia suddenly appeared down below in what seemed to be a new dress, as Laurent clearly admired it when he greeted her. He then handed her a weapon he picked from the wall and they laughed as she tried to assume basic attack poses in the restricting new garment. He cheekily disarmed her while she was at such a disadvantage, and Damen saw him shrug one elegant shoulder when Alaia glared at him. Alaia laughed at that and made a comment Damen couldn't hear. Laurent then rolled his eyes, and Alaia laughed even harder, pointing at his face. He batted her hand away playfully, like he had just disarmed her a moment ago, but he was still smiling.

He then walked her over to where he had a few of his guards going through formations. He left her to it, and went back to watching over a sparring match. She critically observed each of the guards, walking up to them in turn, and asking them an individual question here and there. When she was satisfied, she made to leave, stopping to talk to her fiancé once more. Laurent listened to her intently, and looked thoughtfully over his guards before he nodded at her and she took her leave, kissing one of his pink cheeks. 

Damen burned with jealousy, even though he knew it was ridiculous. He had seen Laurent make that very gesture to Auguste a hundred times before. It spoke of a close bond, sure, but it was familial in tone. Still, all Damen could think about was the last time he had kissed that pink cheek in the training yard. He knew exactly how warm that flush felt under his lips, and his lips burned now with the memory. 

Laurent had just put him in the dirt for the first time all day, and he was flushed with exhilaration. Damen could not have been happier to be on his back, looking up at a triumphant Laurent. Laurent had held out a hand to Damen to help him up, and Damen took it eagerly, zeroing in on Laurent's bright smile. He would gladly lose a hundred times to see Laurent like this, but Laurent would know if he ever let him win, and would not appreciate it. On his feet, Damen leaned in to gift Laurent a kiss on the cheek as his prize.

Laurent's skin was hot under his lips, and Damen lingered to soak in the warmth. When he finally pulled back, Laurent's eyes were dark, and his flush had deepened. Damen was lost to him, forgetting everyone else in the vicinity. Laurent hadn't forgotten, luckily, and he dismissed the few guards they had with them, ignoring the catcalls from Lazar on his way out.

Once they were alone, Laurent grabbed Damen by the front of his dusty chiton, and pulled him back to him. Damen still hadn't looked away from Laurent's face that entire time, and went willingly. He captured Laurent's sweet lips in a kiss, and deepened it when Laurent opened for him. Their hands had roamed over their sweaty limbs squeezing the tight muscles they had just been working. Laurent walked them back to the weapons table, and produced a jar of oil for rubbing down the practice swords. He presented it to Damen with a smile that said how proud he was of his cleverness, and Damen took it from him with a shake of his head, and a smile of his own.

Afterwards, they couldn't contain their giggles as they had tried their best to towel each other off, sticky as they were with sawdust covering a coating of oil, sweat, and other fluids. Damen remembered how he had felt so light, and so in love. He couldn't have imagined a better partner for himself than the younger Prince of Vere laughing at his own disarray, alight with the mischief they had just partaken in.

Gods, Damen needed to find something else to do. He was behind on his correspondence too.

He was so in his head with the memories, that he didn't hear someone joining him on the viewing balcony. 

“My prince, are you just - watching Prince Laurent train? That is… a bit maudlin.”

Damen didn't look away from the field. “Don't call me that anymore. It's weird now.”

“Don't call you, what? My prince? What has happened now?”

“Never mind,” Damen said, finally taking his eyes off his own prince. “It's stupid.” When he turned to look at Nikandros, he realized just how much he needed to see a friendly face. A smile broke out on his face for the first time in what seemed like weeks, and he moved to hug the man. “Nik. It is good to see you. Did you just get in?”

Nikandros returned the hug easily. “And you. I got in a couple hours ago, and dropped a pile of food in your prince's rooms. It has taken a while to find you. I certainly didn't expect you to be lurking up here. Why are you lurking?”

“I fear I'm not welcome in most places within the palace at the moment,” Damen admitted. “I move where I am permitted.” 

“That is melodramatic," Nik responded. "The house of Vere loves you like its own. Has something happened in your pursuit of Prince Laurent?”

Damen felt the familiar exasperation flare up in him again at the question. “I've hardly been alone with him! He keeps me at seventeen arms’ lengths. And Auguste is worse. He treats me as if I am not to be trusted anywhere near his brother.”

Nikandros frowned. “That's… new. What has changed?”

Damen threw his hands up. “I don't know! I guess… his fianceé? Everyone loves her and thinks the world of her. They don't want anything to mess up that union. I have met her myself and -” Damen didn't really want to admit this, “and I like her as well. They would be a good match,” Damen finished flatly.

Nikandros looked like he didn't want to say the wrong thing, but sought to understand Damen's mood. “That is… good, right? He will be happy.”

Damen tilted his head back. “Yes, I suppose. I want to be selfless enough to be happy that he is happy,” Damen does wish that were true. “But instead I want to close our border to all Veretians and outlaw shrugging in Akielos.”

Nikandros’ brows pinched together at this revelation. “That… what? I feel like I'm missing some context.”

Damen sighed and looked away. “Never mind, it's not important. Laurent is happy, and I will go back to Akielos where I can be alone forever.”

Nikandros leveled him with a look. “Damen. You are the Crown Prince of Akielos. You can have any blue-eyed blond snake you desire for your throne.”

Damen looked back at his friend with emotion prickling his eyes. “But I already picked the blue-eyed blond I desire for my throne.”

Nikandros looked back at Damen, pity present in every feature. Damen still wasn't used to seeing that look on everyone's faces. “Oh, Damen.” Nik gave his friend a strong hug while Damen composed himself on his shoulder, masking it as a warm greeting. “Let's spar. After we've exhausted our muscles, and taken a bath, we can strategize your love life.”

Damen picked his head up. “Oh, that reminds me. Laurent and Auguste’s uncle is trying to assassinate them, so most of my current strategizing has gone to making sure that doesn't happen.”

Nikandros blinked, but didn't falter. “Of course he is. Well, let's start with that then. Should we just head to the baths, and you can catch me up?”

Damen cast one more look down at Laurent, then turned and nodded at Nikandros. 

--

They headed towards the royal baths that Damen had access to as a visiting prince, since they would yield more privacy than the baths by the training yard. 

They dared not discuss anything of importance in the halls on the way there, but filled the air with pleasantries and stories of their trips here.

Once they reached the secluded baths, they nodded to the guards and stepped inside. They allowed the servants to undress them and set out towels and soaps and oils that were supposedly good for their Akielon skin and hair, and then dismissed them to attend themselves. 

Damen let out a huge sigh as he sank into the waters that were heated by natural hot springs. The baths in Vere truly were a luxury unmatched anywhere else. The steam and smells from the soaps and oils curled around him, relaxing the tension from his body. With Nik beside him, he finally felt like he could take a full breath, and he let the feeling wash over him with the waves.

Nikandros rinsed off the travel grime by the basins, then came to join him. He let out a similar sigh to Damen and commented on how good the hot springs in Vere always felt on tired muscles. Damen remembered that Nik had just finished a long journey on horseback, and was thankful all over again that his friend had come to him first instead of resting.

“Okay then," Nik started. "Now that I can see for myself that you are whole and well, and not poisoned by the viper pit,” Damen flinched at the casual mention of poison, and Nikandros raised his eyebrows, “what has happened in the two weeks that you have been here?”

Damen took a moment to run some water over his face before he answered. It felt much longer than two weeks. “The very first night I was here, Laurent was poisoned.” Nik's eyebrows shot further up, and Damen had to interrupt himself. “No one else knows except Auguste, the physician, Laurent's guard, and myself, so do not go around mentioning it to people.” Nik gave him a look that said quite clearly he would never have thought to do that, but Damen had remembered something else. “And his finaceé, she knows too.”

Nik looked like he briefly thought about following that line of questioning, but settled back on the original issue. “He is recovered, I assume?”

Damen forced his mind back to the priority issue. “Yes, he recognized the poison, was able to identify it, and met with his physician who had him purge most of what he ate from his system. More troubling was the revelation that this has been happening consistently, and that there was a slow acting poison building up in his system for maybe a month or more.” Damen shuddered at the thought, and remembered how horrified he had been that night. “I found out that same day that there have been multiple attempts on Laurent's and Auguste's lives in the last year alone, and they have only increased in intensity and frequency since Laurent has been engaged.”

Nikandros took this in before he asked his next question. “And they suspect their uncle?”

“Yes, they have suspected their uncle of ill intent,” Damen internally hated himself for the understatement, “for many reasons, going back to their childhoods. I trust their judgment on this, besides the fact that he is clearly the one to gain from the brothers' demise.”

Nik acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. “But Laurent was the target this time?”

“Laurent seems to be the primary target at the moment. He thinks this is because he is the one actively continuing the line of succession,” Damen won’t think about that for now, “but I think it's simpler than that. I think targeting Laurent targets both brothers at once. If anything happened to Laurent, Auguste would be… inconsolable. It would certainly be an ideal time for someone to step in as a clear headed monarch. And while Laurent would go crazy if he lost his brother, I think he would actively burn Vere to the ground in his grief, whereas Auguste would most likely shut himself away and never come out into the light again.”

Nik was quiet, considering, and Damen wondered if it occurred to Nik that Damen could guess what Auguste would do because it is what he himself would do.

“If they are so sure, can they not accuse him?”

Damen had wondered the same thing, but Vere's politics were always more complicated than Akielos'. “No, it is different in Vere. The word of the king is not enough to pass judgment, it just brings the trial before the council. And both Laurent and Auguste believe that their uncle has enough friends on the council that only the most irrefutable evidence would condemn him. I considered just taking care of it myself, but… I do not wish to be banned from Vere.”

Nikandros sent his friend a dark look. “I would prefer if you didn't just murder a foreign prince in cold blood, yes.”

Damen looked away when he said, “if they cannot solve this quickly, and the danger becomes closer, I will be forced to act. It is not worth the risk to my - brothers of Vere.”

Nikandros' expression once again was overtaken with pity. “Damen… what has happened between the two of you?”

Frustrated tears stung at his eyes again, so Damen tilted his head back and looked at the intricate frescoes on the ceiling above them. “I don't know! They won't let me near him. The last private conversation I had with him was almost two weeks ago, and even that was interrupted.”

Softly, Nik asked, “what would you ask of him?”

Damen would ask to take all of his suffering upon himself. “I just - want to be there for him. I wouldn't even put my own feelings on him right now, it would be too much with everything else going on, but - it's a lot. A wedding. Assassination attempts. A fianceé. The whole continent descending on the palace. Classic Veretian betrayal and intrigue. He must be so scared. And he won't show it, because he's Laurent, but… he could talk to me about it.”

Nik patted Damen on the shoulder as they sat with that for a while. He was just about the speak up again when they heard activity coming from outside the door. They turned to watch as Laurent himself walked through the doors. He only got a few steps in before he spotted them and froze. 

“Oh. Apologies, I didn't realize anyone was in here. I'll just -” He turned to go, and Damen's heart lurched in a panic. But it was Nikandros that spoke up, squeezing Damen's arm under the water.

“Come now, Prince Laurent, surely you are not the only Veretian spooked by public nudity. I have just arrived and it's been near a year since I have seen you last. Please, join us, and we can catch up a bit.”

Laurent hesitated, but in the end he acquiesced. Damen could have kissed Nik. He almost forgot how well Nik knew Laurent, being Kyros in a border province. And it looked like he learned a bit of Veretian manipulation along the way. 

“Kyros,” Laurent answered, still overly formal. “I am happy to see you have made it safely. And I see you've brought a much larger contingent than your prince.”

“Ah yes, my prince,” Nikandros laughed. He didn't add any inflection, but Damen still burned with a blush at the reference. “I come bearing Prince Damianos' full guard, as well as my own smaller one. As well as a final count of the Akielon delegation you can expect for the wedding.” Damen tried not to flinch at the reminder.

“That is helpful, thank you,” Laurent replied, finally coming further inside. “Can we expect the entire delegation as early as you two?”

“No, just us. Just Vere's close personal friends," Nik responded. "Aren't you getting in?”

Laurent rolled his eyes, but assented, and Damen's heart lifted. He stalled for time by grabbing himself a towel, and then deliberating awfully hard over which soaps and oils to choose. He took his time taking off his boots and placing them where a servant could come and collect them for shining. Finally, with nothing else to occupy him, his hands went to his laces. 

Damen looked away, unable to handle the sight of Laurent undressing right now. He heard clothes hit the floor, and then water sluicing over flesh to the floor as Laurent rinsed off the sweat and sawdust from the training yard. He kept his eyes firmly down when he heard footsteps coming towards their pool and the light splashes of Laurent settling in. Only when he was sure Laurent had situated himself the way he wanted did he look up.

And his eyes immediately snagged on blue. Laurent simultaneously felt so close and so far away, sat as he was across the bath. He watched Damen warily as he unbraided his hair. His chosen soaps and oils were behind him, and he was fingering his own locks to untangle the strands. Damen felt drawn to him as always, wanting his own fingers working through that hair. Sweat and steam were curling the short locks at his temple, and what Damen could see of his chest was flushed with either the heat of the baths or the exercise from before. Damen wanted to run his hands over those muscles, loosening each one in turn.

Nik cleared his throat and ripped them out of their mutual stalemate. 

Laurent flicked his eyes over to him. "Jord tells me you brought a mountain of Akielon food to my rooms this morning," he said casually.

Nik smiled. "A little bird had told me you weren't enjoying Veretian fare too much lately. There's about four dozen stuffed grapes leaves in there as well, as requested." Laurent let his eyes wander over to Damen again, curious as he took that in. Damen tried hard not to blush at that revealing detail.

“So,” Laurent started again. “What were you talking about?”

“Your uncle,” Nik replied bluntly.

“Gods,” Laurent hissed, spell completely broken, fingers falling out of his hair. “Shout it louder, will you? I don't think Guion heard you from the inside of my uncle's ass.”

“Come over here, then. So I don't need to shout.” Nik was so nonchalant. 

Laurent rolled his eyes, and started wading towards them. Damen held his breath and was immensely happy when Laurent chose to sit next to him, rather than on Nik's other side. “So another person knows then?” He accused Damen.

“Just Nik,” Damen said defensively. “and just your suspicions, not your reasons.”

“You actually don't need to explain it to me at all,” Nik interjected. “You can just know that I support you and King Auguste. Whatever I or my men can do for you in this, we are at your disposal.”

Laurent was surprised at the declaration of support. Damen knew he did not have much experience with friends that would back you up just because they loved you. Damen beamed at his friend for showcasing this love and loyalty to his beloved. He knew how lucky he was to have had Nikandros as a friend for his entire life, and he couldn't have been more pleased to share that with Laurent. Nik really was a gift.

“Thank - thank you,” Laurent finally replied, emotion causing the uncharacteristic stutter. “Your support is appreciated more than you can know.”

Nik smiled back at him, easy in these types of declarations of loyalty. He gave Damen another squeeze under the water before he said, “and speaking of those men, I must make sure they have settled in. I will see you both at dinner.”

And with that, Nik rose out of the water, brought his towel and clothes to the side to dress, and exited swiftly without fanfare. Damen was amazed. Not even here half a day, and Nik managed to orchestrate some alone time for him and Laurent. He silently sent a prayer up to the gods, thanking them for his best friend.

Laurent looked after Nikandros, fully aware of the game Nik just played against him. He looked back at Damen and raised an eyebrow. Damen huffed a little laugh, and nudged Laurent lightly with his elbow. “Hey,” he said quietly. 

Laurent took a deep breath, and gave a small “hi,” back.

“How are you feeling?” Damen asked, still quiet. They were speaking intimately, heads tilted towards each other so the words didn't travel past the two of them. Up close, Damen could see the strain of the past weeks on Laurent's face.

Laurent shrugged one shoulder, and Damen didn't hate it this time because he knew what it meant. He did want to flick the offending shoulder, or kiss it, but they weren't there at the moment. He balled his fists under the water at his sides so he didn't reach for Laurent. They were close, so close, maybe just an inch or two between them, but still there was no part of them that was touching.

“I am fine, all things considered.” Laurent had looked away, and was moving the water in front of him, watching the swirls and patterns come and go.

Damen leaned closer. “And what are we considering?”

That got Laurent to look back at him, irritated. “Oh, I don't know, Damianos. Maybe that my uncle, who has been trying to control me for more than a decade, has decided that he'd rather see me dead than let me have any sort of autonomy. I have been hungry for weeks, because I'm too paranoid to eat anything given to me or requested by me. I'm just stealing food from the kitchens that I don't even like. But then I think he might catch on to that, so I start eating foods I like again, but then I convince myself that's what he wanted, so I go back to what I hate. I am constantly wondering what he thinks I would do, and am trying to do the opposite, but then I realize he is still controlling me if I am refusing to do the things I want to do just because of his threat. And it's not just me I have to worry about, not even just Auguste and me. It's Alaia now too. And she is so headstrong, which I love about her usually, but I have more experience dealing with my uncle, and know how he thinks, and she should listen to what I am saying. I know she is a warrior, but she is a warrior that has never been to war. She is the type to refuse to put a guard at her back, just because it is not honorable to attack from behind. And Auguste doesn't trust me at all anymore. Doesn't trust me to know if I'm feeling okay. Doesn't trust me to appraise my own food. Doesn't trust me with -”

“With?” Damen prompted when Laurent cut his tirade off, afraid of the answer. 

“With - anything,” Laurent finished after a moment’s hesitation.

“With me?” Damen guessed.

“Yeah,” Laurent said quietly, looking down again.

Hurt settled in Damen's stomach as he wondered if there was a way not to take that personally. “I am not a danger to you. I would never hold you against your will. Or do anything with you that you did not expressly want.”

Laurent looked back up at him, hurt swirling in his own eyes. “I know that. He knows that. It's not you he doesn't trust, as infuriating as that is. It's me. I don't - I can't - think around you.”

“You don't need to think around me," Damen hurried to assure. "I'm not trying to deceive you, or outmaneuver you. Our conversations are not chess matches. I want you to be relaxed around me. Easy. Say what is on your mind, whatever is on your mind. You do not need to filter it before you say it to me. You are safe to be exactly who you are with me. Safe to feel how you feel.” And I will love you for it, Damen only just held back.

Laurent tilted his head back against the pool’s edge. “I don't know what I'm doing,” he admitted quietly. “And I am scared I cannot beat him.”

Damen's heart leapt at this small admission. He would take any walls coming down between them, any small chance for Laurent to unburden himself somewhat. He took Laurent's hand before he could stop himself again, and held it to his lips. “You can, and you will,” he said as earnestly as he could. “He may have bought allies, but you inspire true loyalty. And that will win every time.”

That got a small smile from Laurent. “My noble barbarian. You are too good for Vere.”

Damen gave Laurent's knuckles one more kiss before he lowered their hands. “It is true. Paid alliances crumble at the first crack in the foundation. It is the same reason why an army of sell swords could never beat a loyal army of equal strength. They are only loyal to the benefit they receive. As soon as it looks like the war is against them, they will turn tail to save themselves for the next highest bidder. That is why you will win. Your uncle does not need to be beaten to be beat. He will be beaten as soon as it looks like he will be beat.”

Laurent's brow furrowed as he took in Damen's speech, and so Damen let him sit with it for a minute, letting go of his hand, and stopping himself from reaching up to smooth out the lines between Laurent's pale brows. Then his expression started to clear and his face cracked open with a true smile. Damen went a little breathless at the sight.

“Damen, you’ve done it!” Laurent swooped in and pressed his lips hard to Damen's, pulling away before Damen even had a chance to respond. Damen was very breathless after that. “That's it!”

Laurent stood up, and Damen was absolutely not ready for a wet, naked Laurent to be standing in front of him. He hadn't been able to look away in time, and now he sat dazed and frozen as Laurent bounded out of the bath and started toweling off. 

“I can get started right away," Laurent was saying, pulling on his pants. "I will have to think this through a bit, but I think this could work!”

“Wait," Damen tried, finally coming out of his daze, and turning to face Laurent again. "What are you doing? Where are you going?”

Laurent shook his head as he pulled on his shirt. “I haven't fully figured it out yet, but -" Laurent looked at him as he started to lace, "come to my rooms after dinner tonight.”

Damen's mouth went dry, and he was helpless to do anything but nod.

Laurent flashed him a dazzling grin and finished up his laces. “See you at dinner," he said over his shoulder as he left the baths, stride fast and strong as it hadn't been for weeks now.

Damen sat, unsure of what had just happened, but thrilled all the same. Something had unlocked within Laurent, and that could only mean good things. He was already happy with the time they had together today, and the thought of continuing it tonight in Laurent's rooms was dizzying. Damen made a note to himself to thank Nikandros wholeheartedly for his intervention.

--

Dinner that night was a happier affair than it had been for the last two weeks. Laurent was there, first of all, and even though he was still sat between his brother and his fiancée, he turned to bring Damen and Nikandros into the conversation frequently. Damen hadn't felt comfortable inserting himself into any conversation he wasn't expressly asked to since he got here, but between Laurent and Nikandros tonight, he never felt like an outcast.

Laurent's uncle was there too, unfortunately, but Laurent engaged with him as if there was nothing wrong tonight, which seemed to surprise the uncle too. Laurent even seemed to be eating more than he had been, though Damen noticed he kept his selections to plates that were placed by a single servant. 

All in all, Damen was filled with hopefulness when he went to meet Laurent in his rooms that night. He had stopped by his rooms first, and tried to tame his curls once again. He used some of the fragrance set out for him. It had a deep woodsy scent, so unlike the typical floral scents he smelled in Vere, so he deduced it must have been chosen just for him. Laurent never wore any type of fragrance, but if you were close enough you could smell his preferred orange blossom soap on his skin. Damen had gotten to smell it again in the baths, and he hoped he'd be near enough to let it envelop him tonight. He considered waiting a little while longer, until more of the palace was abed, but Laurent had said ‘after dinner,’ and Laurent was nothing if not precise, so he made his way to the royal family's wing. 

The first sign something was wrong should have been meeting Alaia in the hallway on the way there. 

“Hello, Prince Damianos,” she greeted. 

“Damen,” he reminded her, automatically. “Hello, yourself.”

She came closer and linked her arm with his. “Are you off to this super secret meeting as well?”

“Oh, um, I suppose I am,” he responded, not wanting to appear confused. He would follow her lead for now. 

“You smell nice,” she commented.

A little embarrassed at being caught primping, Damen deflected. “I didn't know what else to do with the time in between.”

“Hm,” she said, calculating. “I'm sure it is not often a crown prince has time he does not know what to do with. Enjoy your pampering.” She smiled. “I used the facilities, myself.”

Damen smiled back and shook his head. It continued to amaze him how at ease she made him feel when just the idea of her made his whole body tense up. “Just another way to freshen up, I guess.”

She nodded, looking more determined. “Yes, we must all be at our best for this.” 

Damen had no idea what ‘this’ meant, and his confusion deepened when they pushed the door open, and saw not only Jord in the room, but Auguste as well. Unfortunately, his mouth moved before his brain made sense of everything.

“Auguste? What are you doing here?”

Auguste looked back at him with Alaia on his arm, dumbstruck. “It's a strategy meeting, Damianos. What did you think you were coming to Laurent's rooms for?”

Damen decided no answer was needed to that, though he did catch Laurent and Alaia's twin amused expressions when she detached from him and went to sit with the brothers. 

Luckily, Nikandros had arrived behind them, and they all moved to start discussing what they were apparently here for. 

Nik and Damen sat on one of the couches, while Laurent sat in between Auguste and Alaia at the table, walled off from Damen once again. Jord stood by another arm chair, looking mildly uncomfortable on the soft furniture, and choosing to perch himself on the arm.

“You smell nice,” Nik leaned into Damen to say quietly. 

“Shut up,” Damen muttered back. Then louder, “this everyone we're expecting?”

Laurent finally regarded him, “yes, this is it. I figured we'd start small and build a team once we get some momentum.” He then addressed everyone and started the meeting. “As everyone here knows, our dearest uncle is starting to make blatant moves to see himself inserted as King of Vere.” Auguste looked curiously at Nikandros at the ‘everyone here knows,’ but let Laurent continue. “Auguste and I have worked tirelessly over the last year to counteract his moves, and try to catch him in a slip up, but have only been successful in adding more circumstantial evidence to the already rather large pile. However, as Prince Damianos pointed out today, Uncle's whispers and deceits only advance on the backs of his paid allegiances and public mood. If public mood towards him changes, his allegiances crumble, and he is exposed as the demon he is. So. The game we should be playing is not a reactive one, righting the wrongs he slings our way, but an underhanded one, where we poison the public opinion of him until his soldiers look around for a more stable benefactor. Or in the best case scenario, fold in on him to save themselves from the sinking ship.”

Everyone was silent for a moment as they took in this introduction. Auguste was the first to speak, and he was looking at Damen. “Where did you and Prince Damianos have this conversation?”

Laurent bristled. “How is that relevant to this discussion?”

“Who could have overheard you?” Auguste offered as a thin explanation, looking back at Laurent and saying much more with his eyes. 

“In the royal baths, after training,” Laurent gave him an annoyed eye roll for his trouble.

“The baths,” Auguste repeated.

“Yes,” Laurent confirmed, “Nikandros was there as well. Though I did not realize I needed a chaperone for a conversation with another man in Vere.”

Alaia decided to diffuse the tension, and Damen could have hugged her if she would have welcomed it. “So no one outside of this group knows the plan then. Are we to divide and conquer the taverns of Vere, spreading his monstrosities far and wide?”

“No,” Laurent said, redirecting his attention to her, and gripping her hand in thanks. “His valuable allies are all in Arles. I think dropping hints in some of their frequented establishments should be enough. But we're not spreading his true crimes. They know those already, and do not care. We need to ruin his reputation as a benefactor, as that is what they are currently playing for.”

“So… disguises? Betrayal? Seduction? I'm in.” Alaia's excitement was infectious, and Damen couldn't suppress his grin. She really was so much like Laurent sometimes. 

“No.” Auguste cut off her enthusiasm. “Not for either of you. Laurent, this plan is convoluted and dangerous, and has no guarantee of even working! What if you spout off to some drunk miserable and they challenge you right then and there? Or drag you off to one of Uncle's goons? How will you keep your identity a secret?”

“I won't be trying to start a riot in the local tavern, Auguste," Laurent argued. "We'll be trading gossip as currency, just like the rest of them. It's harmless, but likely the most impactful thing we can do.”

“I disagree it is harmless,” Auguste countered. “Jord, you must agree with me.”

Jord didn't directly answer his King, a sign of how truly loyal to Laurent he was, but could not ignore him either. “He will not be alone, at the very least,” he assured. He turned to his charge. “I suppose my role will be quite different?”

Laurent nodded at that. “Yes, I am afraid you have no talent for deception,” said kindly, like he was softly delivering a blow. “But I do honor your stealth.” He spoke to the rest of them, “Jord and the rest of my guard are securing lines of supply into the palace and to me. After the poison discovery, he has infiltrated the kitchens. Since it seemed to be only my food, we assumed the food was arriving to the kitchens untampered, and only modified between then and delivery. So far he has been able to secure one line from the kitchens to my plate, and hopefully more to come, so it does not become suspicious that I will only accept food from one source. We have missed once,” he grimaced, not happy to admit it, and sure enough, Auguste, Alaia, and Damen all reacted in shock to the news, “but for the past week, I have been able to eat at least something from the table with no ill effects.”

Damen wanted to go over there and pull Laurent to his chest and never let go, but Nik subtly squeezed his arm to rein him in. He saw Alaia tighten her hand around his, and even Auguste seemed to soften to his brother at the news. “What would you have us do?” Auguste asked him.

Laurent smiled at Auguste as if there was never any tension between them. Damen always envied their relationship at times like these. Their faith in each other was unshakable, and nothing could ever come between them, especially not a petty foreign prince.

“Your job is arguably the hardest, dear brother," Laurent continued. "You have the council. You won't be able to just make snide remarks about his bedroom habits or his ineffectual foreign policy. I was thinking you could ‘accidently’ leave half written correspondence to be found. Leave a trail for some busybody to discover you are covering for his debts or other news that he cannot be trusted with his finances. We can draft some things together.”

“And the rest of us?” Nikandros added.

Laurent gave him a mischievous smile that made Damen's stomach flip. “You will need to get over your Akielon aversion to gossip.” He turned to Alaia. “Vaskians pretend to hate it, but revel in it given the chance, as you can see by Alaia here.” Back to the group, “Veretians trade in it. I need you to drop comments at court and local businesses that would embarrass a Veretian snake. Remember they don't care about dishonor or depravity. Think things like forgetting his purse, trouble performing, generally getting old... Anything that would affect the vanity of someone who would stand by him. I can give you a list of places that his allies are most likely to hear it. You want it to be interesting enough that it gets repeated, but not so uncommon that anyone couldn't have started it. It's going to feel silly and petty, but that is exactly what these people who he has aligned himself with are.”

“This sounds awful. Can I help Jord?” Nikandros complained. 

Laurent gave an especially Veretian shrug. “If he allows it.” 

“We'll do whatever it takes,” Damen vows, and Laurent's eyes soften at him. 

“Okay,” Auguste said, breaking the moment. “Let's get to the details, then.”

They spent the next half hour discussing plans, dates and coordinating efforts. They brainstormed how they could hurt the brewing dissension the most with the fewest words, and how to make sure the pattern didn't make its way back to Laurent or Auguste.

As they were finishing up for the night, Damen's mind was racing for how he could stay a little longer than the rest. But his plotting was not fast enough, and Nikandros tapped his arm. “Perhaps on our walk back to our wing, you can tell me how the border dysfunction is related to these events?”

Auguste nodded to them, and took Alaia's arm to escort her back to her rooms. The four of them left together, turning towards opposite sides of the hallway.  Damen tried to catch Laurent's eye on the way out, but he was deep in conversation with Jord and didn't notice. 

Damen resigned himself to finishing the evening with Nik, and prompted, “the border?”

Nik sent him a look. “Hush, Damen, I know how it relates. Prince Laurent and I have been corresponding on the subject for the better part of a year.”

This was news to Damen. “How often do you guys exchange letters?"

“I'm a border kyros, Damen. Of course I correspond with the neighboring kingdom. I would love if I could start a regular correspondence with Alaia before I leave as well.” Nik looked thoughtful.

Damen bristled. “Well, what are we doing then?”

Nik looked steadily back at him. “Walking slowly and pretending to be deep in conversation until King Auguste and Alaia shut their doors.”

Now Damen was confused again. “What? Why?”

“Because you need help with your bid for the Veretian crown prince,” Nik explained honestly.

Damen snapped his head around and tried to stop walking, but Nik prodded him along. “You do not support the match with Alaia then?”

“I have no place to have an opinion on it,” Nik qualified. "I have spoken to her at dinner and a little more tonight. She is lovely and capable and wicked in a way I'm sure Prince Laurent appreciates. But I have also seen the prince with you, today and for ten years before. There is nothing like your effect on each other. You are different people for knowing each other, and I believe it's mostly for the better.”

Damen glowed inside at this assessment. There was someone on his side. Someone else who saw it. “What should I do?” He asked, more desperately than he had meant. 

“Did you notice there wasn't a guard outside Prince Laurent's door tonight?” Nik asked.

Damen furrowed his brow. “They are stationed at the ends of the wing. Jord will see his place at the door filled when he retires.”

“Mm, yes,” Nikandros agreed. “But now, the hallway is quiet and empty, and we still have not passed the guard on our end.”

Damen lit up with understanding and gave Nik a surprised look. "I see you have picked up some skills at deception along the way," he said, more impressed than he probably should've been.

Nik shrugged a shoulder, and Damen almost laughed at the gesture. "When in Vere," Nik said, waving his hand around.

Smiling, Damen gave his friend a squeeze on the shoulder. “You are a good friend,” he said, already turning around. “The best.”

He hurried back to Laurent's door, and considered knocking before just pushing it back open. 

--

Laurent and Jord looked up at his entrance, Laurent with mild surprise, Jord with mild alarm. Damen didn't say anything, just maintained eye contact with Laurent. Jord looked from one to the other, before wrapping up whatever he was saying in his head, and moving to the exit. “See you tomorrow, Your Highness.”

Laurent kept his eyes on Damen, but responded, “Thank you for your input tonight, Jord.”

When the door closed behind him, it was just Damen and Laurent in Laurent's rooms. Alone. Neither of them moved.

Finally Laurent broke the silence. “Did you forget something?”

Damen's limbs unlocked and he moved to stand in front of Laurent. He could no longer maintain their imposed separation, and had to touch him. He kept it safe by just resting his hands on Laurent's shoulders, sliding them only slightly to his upper arms. Laurent sagged just a little under the weight.

“It is hard for me to be in a meeting regarding your safety, and not be able to check in,” Damen admitted. He rubbed his thumbs along Laurent's shoulders. “How are you? It is a lot to take in.”

Laurent lifted his own hands to grasp Damen's forearms. The contact electrified Damen, but he tried his best to stay still and steady for Laurent, only letting his thumbs move across Laurent's shoulders and collarbones, still encased in his dinner jacket. 

“I feel like I keep saying this, but I'm okay, Damen," Laurent said softly. "I know I seemed to be at my breaking point in the baths earlier, but - I like this plan. I really think it can work. At the very least, I like that we are finally acting, and not constantly reacting, just trying to keep up with his moves. I feel like your idea could save me. And Auguste. And not to sound melodramatic, but even Vere.”

Laurent looked up at him with eyes so blue, and so clear, and so full of the fire that Damen has been in love with for years, that Damen just couldn't help himself anymore. He slid his hands up Laurent's shoulders, up his pale neck to exposed skin, and cupped his face. This was the most precious thing Damen would ever hold in his hands, and he was consumed by that thought. 

“Can I kiss you?” Damen hadn't meant to ask, but now that it was out there, he was burning for it, and he held his breath awaiting the answer. 

Laurent's lips parted at the question, and drew Damen's gaze. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip before he said quietly, almost somberly, “I am still getting married.”

Damen swallowed the protest that tried to escape, and instead let his thumb follow the path of Laurent's tongue across his newly moistened lip.

“I know,” was all he said.

If Damen hadn't had his thumb right there on Laurent's lip, he might not have felt his quick intake of breath. He held his own breath, waiting for Laurent's answer.

“Then yes.”

Damen stood shocked for just a second, not believing what he had just received. He had Laurent's permission to kiss him. Damen took a shaky breath to steady himself. He would not waste this moment.

He bent his head, bringing their faces close together without touching. His lips were beating with anticipation, and the puffs of breath he could feel from Laurent's still open lips set them tingling. 

He started by nuzzling their faces together, foreheads and noses brushing, but lips still kept at bay. He lifted his chin to brush his lips against Laurent's forehead, the side of his nose, and then came back to his lips, holding himself a millimeter away, waiting for Laurent to bridge the final distance. 

He felt a shaky exhale dance across his slightly parted lips and then felt the lightest touch. Laurent had just barely touched his full pink lips to Damen's own. He slid to the side of Damen's mouth, leaving behind a trail of fire, and Damen chased the friction. He took Laurent's lips more fully, fitting them together and lightly grazing his teeth over Laurent's bottom lip whose shape was imprinted in Damen's brain. Laurent's tongue came out to pass over his own lip where Damen's teeth had just been, and the proximity had it also wetting Damen's top lip. Damen couldn't help sending out his own tongue to meet it, and when Laurent's started back into his own mouth, it beckoned Damen's to follow. 

Damen slid one hand into Laurent's hair, and the other slid down to cup the side of his neck, and he deepened the kiss. There was a click that was more breath than sound from the back of Laurent's throat, and Damen was lost. He poured everything into the kiss: his love, his desire, his longing, even his insecurities. 

He put it all out there, and Laurent met him with a matching emotion. Laurent's fingers were mapping Damen's jaw, as if reminding himself of the contour, and his other hand had buried itself in the curls at the back of Damen's neck. After a particularly toe curling pass, those fingers gripped Damen's hair and tugged, sensation breaking out across Damen's skull. Damen helplessly let out a groan that brought him back to the present, and he consciously decided to gentle the kiss.

They spent another couple minutes sharing breaths between chaste kisses until their breathing evened out and Damen pulled back enough to look Laurent in the eye.

He looked so deliciously wrecked, hair mussed and lips swollen and shiny, that Damen almost didn't say what he said next. 

“I should go.”

Laurent took a last fortifying breath that puffed up Damen's ego, and agreed, “you should.”

Damen pulled himself away, but maintained eye contact. “Can I see you again? Like this?”

Laurent's eyes showed he knew what Damen meant, and the fingers of one of his hands started nervously playing with the hem of his jacket. “You can. We can.”

Damen couldn't stop the wide grin taking over his features, and he swooped in for one last press of lips. “See you later then. Tomorrow,” he promised.

Laurent rolled his eyes, but grabbed hold of the front of Damen's chiton to pull him in for another ‘last’ kiss. “Later.”

Damen flashed him another smile, and then walked on air all the way back to his own rooms.

Chapter Text

Damen spent the next few nights dreaming restless dreams of flushed skin and desperate lips, and then arriving early to breakfast the next morning, eager to see if Laurent had been similarly affected. Even though he was tossing and turning through the night with  increasingly pervasive visions, he was waking up feeling more energized than he had felt yet since arriving in Arles. 

Unfortunately, it had not been as easy as he had hoped to have Laurent again as he had him that night - alone, intimate, and willing. Though he would see him most mornings, glowing and fresh faced with a night of clearly uninterrupted sleep, Laurent continued to be constantly busy, constantly surrounded, or completely elusive. 

They had stolen a few more kisses since that night, when Nik stayed back after a meeting to discuss something with Auguste, after cleaning up the training yard, and once when they had run into each other at the stables in the late morning. But it was never more than a quick check in and a few shared breaths before someone intruded on their hidden space or Laurent had to run off somewhere. 

It was enough to have Damen constantly searching for the next opportunity, but not nearly enough to tame his tortured dreams.

Since their uncle's return, both Laurent and Auguste had seemingly doubled their intensity in everything they did. Courtiers were constantly seeking their word on some matter. Council meetings had increased in frequency and fervency as the uncle brought news from his travels and increasingly made up problems that he insisted the crown address. Only half of these meetings were open to Damen, so he had to fill in a lot of the gaps himself, or he would seek out the brothers to keep him apprised of the constantly shifting situation. 

They had both increased their protection units as well, Damen never seeing either one without at least one or more often two of their personal guards flanking them. It made getting near Laurent even more difficult as he felt he could only approach and slip away with him when he was with his longest tenured guards who would allow a brief moment unseen.

Apparently even Alaia had been convinced to fill out a guard. Besides Malik now were a few others Damen recognized from Laurent's guard, and a group that Damen did not recognize, but assumed were Vaskian. Damen even saw Malik with Jord on occasion, either continuing his training or coordinating their respective guards.

Alaia seemed to be accepting of her new heavyweights for the most part. But Damen did see a flash of her frustration when she turned on her heel once in the hall, and ran right into the chest of one of the guards Damen did not recognize. 

Damen approached her then, still a little unsure of his welcome. "That looked like it hurt."

Alaia shook it off, and looked back at him exasperatedly. "They are too much!" she burst out. She quickly looked back apologetically at the guardsman. "Well not them, they are very well trained. But they are too much for me. I feel heavy when being followed. My movements become clunky."

Damen observed the guard in question. He didn't seem uncomfortable in his role, but maybe... out of place? "This one is Vaskian?" he asked Alaia.

She sighed, but still gave her guard a smile. "Yes, we actually trained together in the capital tribe, so you would think we'd be a better unit together, but..."

Damen shook his head. "Training to fight alongside each other is a very different skill set to a personal guard." He looked again at the guard, who thankfully didn't look offended, and then back at Alaia. He held flat hands out at each of their sides indicating the space between them. "You must be aware of their location at all times, even if you are leading. And they must be able to anticipate your moves, to be able to move around you, giving and maintaining equal space." He moved his hands demonstratively. "It is almost like a partner dance, anticipating your partner's steps and following in time. The space ebbs and flows between you, but always like there is a band connecting you, pulling you back together. At the beginning of a partnership, they really shouldn't be training without your presence there. They need to understand your mannerisms and movements. And your tells for your next moves."

Alaia was watching him curiously. She looked at his hands, then back to her guard, then back at him.

"Okay," she said simply. "Show me."

Caught off guard, Damen didn't know what she meant. "Show you what?"

"Let me gather my guards," she explained, "and meet me in the training yard. You can show me what a training session for a personal guard is supposed to look like." 

Damen was embarrassed that he came across as all-knowing. "It is different for everyone," he hedged. "It should be what you are most comfortable with."

Alaia scoffed. "Another skirted answer. Prince Laurent has done the same, preferring to let all the decisions rest with me after forcing the reality of a guard on me in the first place." She sighed. "You and he and King Auguste grew up with guards, you inherently know what it is supposed to look like. This is new to me. I do not know the difference between guards and warriors." 

Damen was swayed by the vulnerability in that simple assessment. He nodded before he knew what he was doing. "Alright then. Let me gather my contingent as well. Gods know they have been itching for a proper training session after their long travel. I will be down shortly."

Alaia smiled at him like she had been unsure of what his response would be, and Damen couldn't help the feeling of protectiveness that warmed in him. They were in this together, after all, whether he liked it or not.

He thought briefly of the correspondence that was piling up in his rooms, but at least his kyroi hadn't started arriving to expect any formal meetings yet. Well, except Nikandros. But they weren't talking very much about Akielos at the moment. Damen would amend that soon, but first he could gather both his and Nikandros' guards for a joint training session to appease their need for action.

--

At the training yard, Damen was walking Alaia and her guards through initiation routines, his own joining in to give an experienced example. 

"It truly is a personalized program," he was explaining to her, "it can look like whatever you want it to look like. Auguste and I use our guards as back up and deterrents. They are an impenetrable wall behind us meant to deter attack and be ready in case of unexpected hostility. They are almost always positioned behind me and more than a couple steps back." He showed her the 'fan out' and 'close in' formations. "Laurent uses his almost as extensions of himself. They are more liquid, both seen and unseen, flitting in and out of his path. They can be as close as a personal friend, or out of eye completely. He would probably be the better example for you."

Alaia huffed, spinning her sword against Malik, as two others tried to step into the fray. She let them take over and turned to Damen, spreading her arms. "Well, when His Highness has the time, he can deign to assist me."

An amused voice floated across the yard to them. "That certainly sounds better than looking at any more flower arrangements." 

Laurent was walking towards them, wearing his training leathers and a bemused smile as he took in both Damen's and Alaia's groups working together. Damen's breath hitched at the unexpected meeting.

Alaia answered him unapologetically. "Veretian customs are demanding all the flowers. It is only fair that you pick them out."

Laurent's smile turned rueful. "Yes, you've expressed as much. I trust it won't disappoint."

Alaia gave him a look like this was a well worn argument between them. "A flower is a flower at the end of the day. I'm sure they are all pretty enough."

Laurent shook his head playfully. "They all mean something different. You would know that if you were paying attention in the last viewing."

Alaia finally softened and returned his smile. "Leave it to Veretians to overcomplicate something a simple as a flower." 

Laurent looked ready to retort, and Damen had to cut in before he was forced to hear any more wedding talk. "What are you doing here? Where are your men?"

Laurent opened his arms, gesturing at his leathers, and Damen took the invitation to peruse his form up and down. "Auguste is running army drills today. I am here as a common soldier."

Alaia laughed. "A common soldier? How often do you join drills?"

"At least monthly," Laurent argued, "but really as much as I can. It's important." He shrugged. "At the end of the day, I am a servant of Vere, and would be called to fight should we go to war again."

Alaia couldn't help but tease him again. "Who is there left to fight? Vere certainly seems to be strengthening alliances left and right." She gestured at herself and Damen.

"Patras," Laurent answered automatically, shrugging again. "And there is still Akielos."

Damen bristled. It did not sound like Laurent was joking. "Akielos would never take up arms against you. Against Vere."

"Perhaps," Laurent allowed, "but against Vask? Don't tell me you've forgotten about the situation at your border." Laurent was avoiding looking directly at Damen. "And Patras would likely back you in a conflict as your sister nation."

A very uncomfortable silence settled over them as it became clear to Damen whose side Laurent would be on in a conflict between Akielos and Vask.

Alaia was the first to crack, excusing herself to check on her guard. 

Laurent watched her go, still avoiding Damen's eyes. Damen forced his attention as he stepped closer, anger starting to color his features, voice furiously low. "You would stand against me in battle?"

Laurent shifted, uncomfortable. "I would be standing for Vere, not standing against you."

So stubborn. Damen didn't let him off the hook. Laurent was just a child the last time Vere was actively at war, but Damen had been to battle. He knew what it meant, and he wouldn't speak blithely about it. "It sounds like you would be standing for Vask, not Vere. You would arm yourself against me? Strike me down if it came to it?"

Laurent sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had lost the stubborn set to his shoulders, and the concession soothed Damen's fury slightly. "Of course not Damen, that was just a hypothetical situation that I would do anything to not have come to pass. It is just one of many reasons Vere could still go to war." He looked back up at Damen. They had gotten closer, speaking in hushed tones so as not to be overheard in the crowded grounds. "I merely meant that it is not prudent to not be trained for war just because we are in a time of peace. I am sure you keep your army battle ready as well. You forget I was receiving your letters at the beginning of the year during your clashes with the southern raiders. I know how close you were to declaring an all out war. How close your father probably still is."

Damen tried not to flinch when he remembered the letters at the beginning of the year and whose fault it was that they stopped. The sense of betrayal at Laurent's sudden engagement flared up again, and his composure slipped.

"Gods Laurent, do you see an enemy everywhere you look?"

Laurent's hackles reared back up. "There is an enemy everywhere I look," he said viciously. "Have you not been paying attention? I cannot afford to be complacent. I cannot afford to not be suspicious. The lives of everyone I care about depend on it."

Everyone he cares about. Where was Damen in that estimation then? Hurt, Damen continued to try to force Laurent to see it. "You would fight me to defend those you care about."

"Do not put words in my mouth, Damianos," Laurent warned.

"I am not!" Damen argued. "That is what you said! You train to defend against Akielos. Who do you think fights for Akielos? Would you fight me if it came to it? Crown prince against crown prince?"

Laurent's eyes flashed though a thousand emotions in a thousand lifetimes as the scenario played out in his mind. Damen hurt at the thought, and he saw that hurt mirrored back at him. Laurent softened completely, conceding the fight.

"I wouldn't fight you, Damen. I - couldn't. I'd find another way. I am finding one," he said a little more determinedly.

Damen wanted to take Laurent in his arms, but he was painfully aware that they were in the middle of a crowded training ground, Laurent's fianceé just a few paces away. Still, he pressed even closer, just holding himself back from touching. He leaned down to whisper in Laurent's ear, "who do you think would win, if it came to it?"

Laurent let out a shocked laugh, and the heavy tension that was suffocating them a moment ago lifted. 

"I would, obviously," Laurent replied, a small smile mending Damen's heart. "Auguste and I spent our youths playing soldiers and the enemy was always Akielos and they always lost."

Damen returned the smile, and shook his head. He already knew the outcome of that worst imaginable scenario. He would let Laurent run him through with his sword before he ever lifted a weapon against him. But he still insinuated the opposite as he tried to goad Laurent into sparring with him now. For the honor of their respective countries, of course. 

They were still playfully bantering when Auguste's shadow fell over them.

"You're late," he told Laurent, unsmiling.

Laurent flinched and looked up at his brother. "I was here on time, I just got caught up with -" he looked back at Damen, "diplomacy," he finished looking back at Auguste. 

Auguste did not look impressed. "Diplomacy," he repeated. "Is that what you are calling it now?"

Laurent flushed. "I apologize for my tardiness. I am coming now."

"You do not get special treatment," Auguste continued to scold. "You will do footwork drills for being late. Get started without me. I've brought some men for Alaia to look at that I think will be well suited for her guard."

Damen saw the half dozen soldiers behind Auguste and tried to picture them in the group Alaia was forming. She would certainly have her work cut out for her, he thought.

Laurent nodded and started heading over to the army drills with an apologetic look back at Damen. Damen hated to see him go.

Auguste gave Damen another warning glance before going to Alaia to offer her his men. 

Damen took a moment to compose himself, washing all the harsh words he had shared with Laurent away. They were both being pushed to their limits. He was surprised it had taken even this long to snap.

He returned to Alaia, after Auguste had left back to his drills, to help her fit the new men into formation amongst her guard. 

"War with Vere averted for the time being then?" She asked him lightly. 

Damen gave her a strained smile. "That's diplomacy, I guess."

--

Laurent wasn't at dinner that night.

Damen's jaw tightened as he passed the empty chair between Auguste and Alaia, not commenting on the absence. 

Laurent's uncle did not have the same compunction.

"I see my youngest nephew has deemed it unnecessary to show up for dinner once again," he said to no one in particular. "Are we still meant to be celebrating his union?" His eyes cast disinterestedly over Alaia. "It doesn't feel very... united. Or is he simply too immature still to recognize the importance of ceremony?"

Auguste kept his eyes on his food. "He is simply not feeling well tonight, Uncle. Have some sympathy. He has retired early with a headache."

Alarmed, Damen tried to catch Auguste's eye to determine if that statement was true. Laurent having another headache was probably... not good. It could also just be another lie in the complicated web to trap his uncle. But Auguste stubbornly kept his eyes away from Damen, and everyone else at the table too, as he gave his full attention to his plate. 

Their uncle hummed sympathetically, but Damen caught the amused tilt of his mouth. "Looks like he is his mother's son in another way."

A few of the courtiers around the table tensed up at this comparison, no doubt remembering what the queen's health had been like in her last year. Auguste's fork paused halfway to his mouth, but that split second was the only reaction he gave to that statement.

"Yes," Auguste agreed. "We are truly blessed to have so much of our mother shine through in him."

"Still, his poor health and continued absences surely dampen the celebratory mood," the uncle continued. "And the guards! I've never seen so many guards in the palace. It is almost as if you are scared of your own people, nephew. It seems I am the only one still walking around unescorted." 

He was right about that, Damen conceded. It was almost as if he trusted his nephews to be honorable enough not to attack him in an ambush. Damen briefly considered showing him how faulty that hubris was, but as was the case every time he fantasized about killing his uncle, Damen thought about Laurent and what it would mean to never be welcome in Vere again. Besides what a renewed hostility between their countries would mean. Damen thought Auguste might be able to prevent an all out war resuming, but could he maintain positive relations? He certainly had excelled at creating and preserving strong alliances in his short time in power, Damen thought, trying not to be bitter about Vere's current allegiance with Vask again. 

"The whole continent is descending on the palace, uncle," Auguste replied, calm as ever. "More guards were inevitable."

"Ahhh," his uncle responded silkily. "You are right, nephew, to not trust the tenuous alliances that have been forced too quickly and with not enough substance to ensure lasting tranquility." Taken back, Auguste looked like he wanted to correct his meaning, but the uncle was already continuing. He lowered his voice as if he was imparting a secret, but made sure his voice carried to all at the table that were listening in for the salacious details. "Some contingents," he side-eyed Damen here, none too subtly, causing Alaia to raise her eyebrows at him, and Nik to roll his eyes back, "may feel... slighted by the rushed and ill thought out agreements taking place, and be looking to use the excitement and chaos of the wedding events to impose their own powerful wills over Vere."

Damen noticed the Veretians at the table listening in, appearing uneasy about the conversation, gazes flitting between the Akielons and Vaskian at the table, as they considered which agreement one of them might feel slighted over. Damen remembered what Laurent had said about the uncle possibly planning to blame the foreign guests for any discovered poison then escalate any existing unrest to a sparked conflict that could boil over into war. But Damen still couldn't figure out what he would benefit from an all out war between nations. More bloodshed couldn't be good for anyone. Damen didn't doubt, however, that Laurent's uncle could find a way to profit from any situation involving the profound suffering of others.

The uncle chuckled like it was all one big joke and he hadn't made the entire table uneasy. "Not that I personally think we have anything to fear from our honored guests." He looked back at Damen now, like they were sharing in the joke. Damen didn't laugh with him. "Of course, I'm not the one surrounded by guards at all times," he added shrugging. That infernal Veretian shrug was all the more infuriating coming from him. 

As the conversation went on in a lighter direction, and the uncle turned his charm on other courtiers at the table, Nik leaned in close to Damen's ear. 

"Were we meant to see that as a joke, and not an obvious attack on Akielon honor?"

Damen turned his head so he could answer him without being overheard. "I think we were meant to hear it as a warning that Auguste didn't trust us. And I think the rest of the table was meant to hear the kernel of 'truth' that was supposed to make the rest of the 'joke' funny."

"But no one was laughing," Nik pointed out.

"No," Damen agreed, glancing at the others who were still looking suspiciously around them. "I think the implication that was laid down was too unsettling for mirth." He had basically implied that a nefarious plot for a hostile take over was taking place amongst them.

Nik sighed. "So Laurent was correct then. We will need to salvage our reputation by selling our own stories."

Damen shrugged and immediately caught himself. It seemed the gesture was catching. "He usually is," was all he added. 

After dinner, Damen stood by Nikandros as he looked for any sign of Laurent appearing, or Auguste slinking off to him. The fact that Auguste wasn't rushing away to be by his brother's side made Damen think that Laurent wasn't truly sick. At least he hoped so.

As he was deliberating how to get out of this entertainment and check on Laurent himself, Nik spoke, intruding on his thoughts.

"I've been trying to find time to talk to you about something else," he began. "While I was still in Delpha after you left, I received correspondence from Kastor. A lot of correspondence. On the palace stationary." Nik sounded serious enough for Damen to pay attention, but in truth, Damen couldn't find the problem in his words.

"As you said," he responded carefully, "I was here. Of course Kastor took over the court correspondence."

"It wasn't all about court, but rather pushing new palace initiatives." Nik seemed to be imploring something unsaid with his words. "And it was on the palace stationary. You yourself never used it, unless taking a dictation from Theomedes himself. And even King Theomedes didn't use it often, unless he was speaking as the mouth of Akielos."

Damen still didn't see the seriousness of the statement. "It's just paper. And maybe father is dictating more to him."

"Why would he do that?" Nik pushed. "Why would he take a step back when the crown prince was already absent from court? Unless he was unable to do his own duties for some reason?"

Damen gave him a look. "Father was in perfect condition when I left, Nik. It has not been that long. And I would be called back if something was serious."

Nik was still agitated for some reason. "Then that only means Kastor is intentionally choosing it. To -"

Damen cut him off with a chuckle. "You have spent too much time in Vere already, my friend. Not everything is a plot. It is just paper," he said again.

Nik eyed him warily. "Just be careful, please."

"Alright," Damen agreed easily, "I shall treat letters from home with the utmost care."

Nik rolled his eyes, but dropped the subject as a group of young Veretian men approached them. It looked like they had had a few cups of wine already, and they approached with big smiles, asking them when they would be planning another Veretian/Akielon tournament.

"It was such a success last time!" they were all agreeing with themselves animatedly. "The men have been training in the newer sports, so there will be different people to look for this time. And we've all been taking an interest in who we'd bet on when the time comes." The men in the circle were nudging each other in good spirits, clearing keen on flashing their purses around given the chance. 

Nik glanced at Damen before matching their jovial tones, "I don't know," he smiled, slipping into the role, "but I'll give you a piece of advice - don't make a bet with the older prince. He lost a bet to me last time and then proceeded to get so drunk that he 'forgot' we ever made such an agreement. He never did pay up." He looked at Damen again like this was an old, fond memory that they had laughed over previously. "You remember, Exalted. He made many bets that day, and was so sour about losing he left without settling any of them. King Auguste, just a prince at the time of course, ended up having to pay them all off on his behalf, because some of the soldiers had started grumbling."

Nik laughed out loud as if it was a funny anecdote, but his audience looked mildly scandalized, one of them muttering, "well that wasn't very sporting."

Nik just shrugged like it didn't bother him whether or not he got paid out for this fictional bet. "Ah, he was probably too drunk to remember that night. Remember how much he indulged?" He asked looking at Damen again, a telling smirk on his face that everyone could notice. "'Left his purse somewhere else,' I'm sure."

The Veretians exchanged their own glances, and soon after, they took their leave still muttering amongst themselves about the embarrassment of having someone else, someone younger!, paying off your debts. 

Damen finally turned his own amused expression onto his friend. "Wow. That was quite masterful. Everything is a plot, indeed."

"Hush," Nik deflected, "Jord said he didn't need help tonight."

Damen laughed, but that made him wonder. He hadn't seen Jord at all since this afternoon either. He was probably with Laurent, but wherever that was, he couldn't guess.

Almost as if he heard his thoughts, Nik asked, "where is Prince Laurent anyway? Shouldn't he be running this show?"

Damen shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "He goes missing a lot lately. At times, it is like he has disappeared from the palace completely. Auguste too sometimes. I know they are still wary about the food, but it is not a good look when neither of them show up. Especially when their uncle does show up, and is able to appear the steady presence of the monarchy."

Nik hummed. "Have you talked to them about it?"

Damen glared at Nik. "You've had almost as many private conversations with them as I have. When do you think I had the chance?"

Nik shrugged, just to annoy Damen. "I've seen both you and Prince Laurent disappear at similar times. Are you using that time to reprimand him on his etiquette?"

Damen couldn't help his slight blush, an answer in itself. No, Damen didn't use what precious time he had with Laurent these days scolding him. 

Nik grinned, knowing he had won that one, and looked around them. 

"Come, Prince Damianos, we have snakes to charm," he said, taking strides to a new group of young courtiers. 

--

As the night wound down, and Damen still hadn't caught sight or word of Laurent, he found himself walking the familiar steps to his rooms, needing to know for himself. He was just going to make sure he was alright, he kept telling himself, that was all. And to make sure Paschal had been notified if he wasn't, he added to himself. 

But as he turned the final corner to Laurent's wing, he recognized the guards flanking Laurent's door as ones new to Laurent's team in the last year. Laurent was not in his rooms then, and almost certainly not sick. Damen turned away then, troubled by thoughts of where on the continent he could be. 

--

But Laurent was not at breakfast the next morning either, spiking Damen's anxiety further. Neither was Auguste. Not even their uncle, though Damen was relieved on that count.

Alaia was there, however, so Damen hesitantly made his way over to her to share in the high table’s spread of yogurt and fruit and nuts. 

“Good morning, Prince Damianos,” she smiled.

“Morning,” he replied evenly. Then because he was dying to know, he asked, “where are Auguste and L- Prince Laurent, and King Auguste this morning?”

Alaia snorted. “Don't strain yourself. You are painfully awkward when you try to be formal. You can call them what you like, we are to be family soon after all.” 

She watched him closely when she made this declaration, and so he tried to smile at the statement, instead of allowing the frown he felt pulling at his lips.

“Right," he said instead. "Do you know where they are this morning?”

A flash of annoyance crossed her face. She hadn't been schooled in the art of Veretian blank face then, and Damen was glad for it. “Plotting away in King Auguste's rooms, still somehow unaware that their combined absence does not go unnoticed,” she said. She looked at Damen, “Prince Laurent sent me a missive," she said by way of explanation. "They are very clever, but neither of them understand the importance of ceremony.” She huffed a laugh, clearly understanding the irony of that statement coming from a Vaskian. “Well, Prince Laurent might, but he actively rebels against it. And King Auguste…" she looked thoughtful for a moment. "I sometimes think he believes himself incidental to court, as if every eye here was not looking for him.”

Now it was Damen's turn to snort. “I believe it,” he said. “I suppose I should be thankful they do not ride off at sunrise together to collect frogs and wildflowers or something like that.”

Alaia smiled wistfully. “King Auguste knows he is supposed to stay near the palace at least. But… I think Prince Laurent misses those times. The freedom and camaraderie they had when they were both just princes. I have rode off with him at sunrise quite a few times since I have been here, but I don’t think it quite replaces what they once had.” 

Damen stifled the stab of jealousy at that, in favor of more information. “But today?”

Alaia shrugged. How Veretian of her after all. “As it gets closer to the wedding, and guests start arriving,” she gave him a pointed look, “we are supposed to be present at gatherings as a show of gratitude. I am sure it is not a good look for me to always be alone at these things, but Prince Laurent has been missing more and more meals lately, not without reason as you know," she hurried to add. Damen just nodded, so she went on, “Still, I hate being left to be the representative of the royal family when I am not even sure…" she paused before finishing flatly, "when I am not even a part of it yet.” Damen wondered what she was going to say before she pivoted. 

Damen swallowed the last of his yogurt. He needed his own answers, and he wasn't getting them here. “Well, you made your appearance. What say we take them some food that wasn't meant for them, and join them in their plotting?”

Alaia looked surprised. “Barging into the King's rooms uninvited as he meets with his closest advisor?” Light sparked back in Alaia's eyes as she grinned mischievously at him, and Damen saw what Auguste meant about her similarity to Laurent. “You are bold. I like that. See how many nuts you can fit in your under-skirt pouch, and we shall spirit away.” And with that, she took the nearly full bowl of yogurt, added a couple of peaches, cradled the resulting mound under one arm, and led the way. Damen had no choice but to lift his skirt as discreetly as possible, stuff his pouch with the assorted nuts, and scramble to follow.

Auguste's guards gave the two of them a strange look as they stopped before the king's door with Vere's serving china under arm. 

“We have been invited to join His Majesty and His Highness for breakfast,” Alaia declared with all the authority of the future Princess of Vere.

Auguste's very well trained guard merely slipped in the door to alert his charge, leaving his partner to eye the serving dish that Alaia still held like a game ball, and then glance at Damen who nonsensically put a hand over the pouch under his skirt as if he was cradling a babe in his belly.

“Invited?” Damen asked Alaia to avoid the awkwardness.

She shrugged. She had definitely spent too much time in Vere. “I received a missive from the Crown Prince telling me his whereabouts this morning. I assume it's the same thing.”

Damen pathetically fantasized about receiving a note in Laurent's hand this morning, but thankfully before he could think too hard on it, the door opened again. 

“In you go,” the guard said as he held the door open for them.

“Thank you,” Alaia said politely as she swept inside like she owned the place.

“Alaia,” Auguste said as he and Laurent stood up to greet them, “and… Damen. Have we missed something?”

“No,” Alaia answered for them. “We missed you at breakfast, and wondered if Prince Laurent was able to smuggle in food for himself yet this morning. So we brought you this in case you were hungry.” She carelessly dropped the bowl of yogurt and peaches on the papers they were going over. “Prince Damianos also has nuts under his skirt for your pleasure.”

Damen flushed. Laurent looked bewildered. And Auguste was scowling at Damen. Damen quickly fumbled out his pouch, loosed the strings, and set it open on the table to display the assortment of nuts he brought. 

Alaia let out a satisfied sigh and sat down in the chair between Laurent and Auguste. “Right then. What are we talking about?”

Laurent smiled and shook his head. “Thank you,” he said, nudging her. “For this. I was hungry.”

Alaia visibly warmed. “I know,” she said, sounding sincere for the first time that morning. “We all just want to help.”

“You are helping,” Auguste assured.

Laurent looked up at Damen, and indicated the chair next to him. “Sit, Damianos. You are making us all feel especially small, hulking over us as you do. We are trying to feel less anxious.”

Damen's shoulders finally relaxed at the explicit invitation, and he sat down next to Laurent, reminding himself not to drape an arm over the back of Laurent's chair in present company. 

“Have you guys eaten?” Laurent continued, “or did you want a taste of your own nuts?” He glanced up at Damen with that same mischievous glint he saw in Alaia's eyes at breakfast, and a jolt of heat went right to where his nuts were hanging in their pouch earlier. 

“We were making lists of the establishments that Uncle's allies are seen at most frequently,” Auguste said plainly, getting them back on track, “and what sort of rumors would affect each one. We also started to draft a letter for members of the council to find.”

“I suggested telling Juerre that Uncle was considering going vegetarian for his health,” Laurent put in, “but Auguste didn't think it was damaging enough.”

“For Juerre?” Alaia laughed. “It's sure to work on him! I've talked to him maybe twice since I have been here, and he has mentioned his pig farm at least seven times!” 

“It is also entirely debunkable,” Auguste interjected, not sharing in the humor. “He would need only to be at one feast where Uncle chose meat to know it was false.”

“He likes clothes, too,” Damen said. When everyone looked at him funny he tried to explain more. “Juerre. He talks about his clothes almost as much as his pigs. He constantly disparages Akielos' simpler fashions, even calling Akielons simple themselves.”

Auguste was still frowning at him. “So we tell him Uncle thinks he's simple?”

“No, but it could get back to him that your Uncle has greatly offended Charls in some way. That he refuses to work with him without you working as a mediator. In fact, Charls loves Laurent so much, he could probably be persuaded to just do that.”

Auguste looked surprised and then started writing something down. Alaia was beaming at him. And when Damen finally forced himself to look at Laurent, a warm smile was waiting for him. 

Laurent pressed his knee against Damen's, and murmured to him, “you've done it again.” Damen was sure he was blushing again, but he kept his knee in place, prolonging the contact. 

With one rotten egg cracked, they started volleying all sorts of ideas around, more than necessary being copied down by Auguste. At some point, someone thought to call for Nikandros, and he showed up with fresh pressed grape juice and pastries from his room, contributing to the jovial atmosphere. They moved to the lounge area where there was more seating.

Eventually, Laurent and Auguste retreated back to the table to finalize the debtor's letter for Auguste to use on the council members. Nik, Damen, and Alaia lounged about laughing at some of the more ridiculous insults they had heard flung across the Veretian court amongst the more petty nobles. 

Damen was comfortable. If he didn't think too hard about why Alaia was included in this group, it felt like family. Damen wanted this forever, but could he bear it after Alaia and Laurent were married, and Damen had to witness their intimate interactions?

When Auguste and Laurent finished their machinations for the day, they came over to join the rest of the group. Auguste stopped behind Alaia's chair, and Laurent continued on to perch on the arm of Damen's. Damen had to tuck his hands between the cushions to stop himself from wrapping an arm around him and pulling him into his lap. The short moments they had been sharing recently were making them more comfortable with each other, but he knew Laurent wouldn't want to showcase that now, here.

Auguste eyed Laurent for a second, but before he could say anything, Alaia spoke up. “There is something else.”

That took Auguste's attention right away. “What is it?” he asked worriedly.

“Nothing dangerous, except to my own reputation," Alaia assured him. Auguste looked at Laurent again at that, and Laurent stiffened like he wanted about to jump away from Damen if it wouldn't cause a damning scene. 

“You both need to start taking your hosting duties seriously again,” Alaia continued, looking at them both. “I understand why you are reticent about joining meals, Laurent," she said sympathetically, "but Auguste, that means you need to be there. The wedding is just over three weeks away now, and guests are arriving everyday.” She gestured to Damen and Nik to make her point. “It appears as though I am being rejected by the royal family when I show up to meal after meal on my own, greeting guests in your name.”

Auguste made a noise of protest. “That is not-”

“She is right,” Laurent cut in. “And we will remedy it immediately. I have faith my channels can provide me with at least one clean plate per meal, so there is no reason for me not to be there. And Auguste, as King, you must bless the union with your presence and breaking bread.”

Auguste nodded. “You are right, of course. We will not miss another.”

“At least not both of you at the same time," Alaia amended. "That should be sufficient. Thank you.”

“Don't thank us,” Auguste said earnestly. “We should have never disappeared from your side.”

Laurent nodded in agreement, and Alaia smiled at them both. A lump formed in Damen's throat at the familial nature of it all.

When it was time to disperse, Nik and Damen stood up to take their leave. 

“Prince Damianos, Prince Laurent, can you help me with something?” Nik asked. “Makedon is planning on arriving with everyone you've ever trained with, I think, Your Highness,” Nik explained, “and I counted at least 6 barrels of griva labeled for Vere. Can you help me find room in the barracks or elsewhere for this crew?”

Laurent rolled his eyes, and Damen was thrilled to be in on the joke for once. “Surely he realizes he will be the only one drinking it, yes? But I am sure we have the room for a greater Akielon crowd. If it gets tight, we can put them up in the hotels in town.” 

“That sounds amenable,” Nik agreed. “Can I see the cellar so I can direct the liquor as it arrives?” 

“Of course.” Laurent stood up. “Brother, I will see you in the council chamber for Uncle's debrief. I'm sure there will be something vaguely accusational that we will have to deflect. And thank you, Alaia. For breakfast, and your help today. Jord has Malik running drills at the moment, but I will send him your way when he's done.”

Auguste and Alaia said their goodbyes, and then Damen left with Nik and Laurent by his sides. 

Laurent spoke first once they turned down the hall. "Everyone I've ever trained with. Will Isander be there?"

Damen turned a bemused look on Laurent, while Nik smiled and nodded. "Of course, Your Highness, he wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm actually not certain who is more excited, him or Makedon. You would think Makedon is giving his own daughter away with how proud he is to be here."

Laurent couldn't hide his smile at that, but Damen was still catching up. "Isander? Is he the one that..."

"My first real Akielon friend, Damianos. Keep up. We trained together with Makedon when I was just sixteen."

"I think that story included more than just training together," Nik interjected. 

"No, I remember," Damen insisted, instead of bristling at not being considered Laurent's first Akielon friend. It certainly was a story at the time. "I'm just surprised you remember him so well to ask after him."

"How could I not?" Laurent exclaimed, indignant. "The first slave I saw freed! No one forgets their first," he added, batting his lashes at Damen. Damen wouldn't admit how warm that look made him feel. 

"The first?" Damen repeated, smiling at Laurent now, helplessly charmed. "Have there been more?"

"Not yet," Laurent admitted, clearly put out by the fact. "But there will be," he amended confidently. Damen didn't doubt him. He knew how serious Laurent was on the topic of slavery.

"I don't want to know anything about that," Nik insisted as they turned the corner. "Well, that's all for me. See you at dinner!"

"Wait," Damen said, finally looking back at Nik, confused. "Aren't we going to the cellar?" He checked back with Laurent, but he just had a small smile and was shaking his head.

"I've already scoped them, and claimed some room for the barrels," Nik said, waving his hand. "But now here you two are, everyone thinking you are busy with me doing hosting duties, with nothing to actually do until the next council meeting. And I have to run." Nik started walking without them, making his way to wherever his plotting took him next.

Damen felt his smile grow with his understanding, and looked back at Laurent to see his smile had widened as well. He grabbed Laurent's hand, giddy with the implication, and pulled him into a nearby room. Before his brain had fully caught up to what was happening, he had pressed Laurent against the closed door and kissed him deeply.

He felt Laurent's hands scramble for purchase briefly before settling into their places behind Damen's neck and in his hair.

Damen's hands went immediately to Laurent's collar, unlacing the threads there to open up some skin to him. His mouth followed, burning a path down Laurent's jaw to the creamy skin of his neck. 

"Is this okay?" he asked, mouth still on Laurent's neck.

Laurent's head thumped back against the door on a groan. "Yes. Don't leave marks -"

"- above the collar. I know," Damen finished for him, opening Laurent up further to get his mouth on shoulders and collarbones. It had been the same rule for them since the beginning, and Damen always followed it. There was so much more of Laurent to mark up anyway, besides the sliver of neck he left exposed above his jackets and vests. Not that he wouldn't mind claiming Laurent where everyone could see, but he understood Laurent's hesitance. 

He'd pushed the boundary before, forcing Laurent to wear an especially high collar the next day, and greet Damen with a glare in the morning. Damen had lit up inside at the knowledge of what had laid right below the line of fabric, but he wouldn't truly risk exposing Laurent to other people's eyes like that if he didn't want it.

After running his stubbled cheek along the line of Laurent's collarbone just to feel him squirm beneath him, Laurent pulled Damen back up to his mouth. Damen went gladly, taking long draughts from Laurent's mouth, head spinning with pleasure. 

When it felt more like they were just pressing their smiles against each other, Damen pulled back just enough to take a deep breath, leaving their foreheads touching.

"How are you?" he asked, finally checking in. 

Laurent huffed a laugh. "Fine, Damen. Enjoying myself, even."

"And last night?" Damen pressed, remembering how nervous he had been without knowing.

Laurent shifted their foreheads apart so he could look at Damen properly. "What do you mean?"

Damen met his eyes, and answered honestly. "Auguste said you retired early because of a headache. I didn't know whether to believe him or not."

Laurent's eyes filled with understanding. "No headache. I was fine last night too."

Damen was relieved to hear it firsthand, but he was left with more questions. "Then where were you?"

Laurent stiffened slightly. Damen only felt it because his body was still pressed against Laurent's, only their heads having any distance. 

"Last night?" Laurent clarified.

"Yes," Damen compelled, not letting go of their intimate position, "I know you were not at dinner, but it seemed you were not even in the palace all together."

Laurent hesitated, and Damen tried to offer comfort and safety with the warmth of his body, fitting his arms more fully around Laurent, giving him a cradle to relax into. He wanted Laurent to feel comfortable confiding in him.

"I -" Laurent started, "I was in the village." Damen waited until he felt Laurent relax in his arms again. "I went to check on Alois."

Damen kept his body loose, not adding tension to the conversation. "Alois?"

"The boy my uncle brought to our kitchens," Laurent explained, finally relaxing. "I had set him up with an apprenticeship with a baker in town, but he had been sleeping in the bakery over nights, without another place to go. I finally had the chance to set him up with a safe house I have out there. They'll be able to give him clothes and a bed and maybe even friends. I went to make sure he was settling in."

Damen remembered Laurent pleading with his brother that night, telling him he could take better care of him away from the palace. He realized - 

"You've done this before. With others."

Laurent met his eyes again with a small, rueful smile. "As many as I can. I am not able to save them all."

Damen doubted that. He was sure any worthy soul who crossed paths with Laurent left in a better position than they had been in previously. 

"Is that what happened to Nicaise?"

Laurent looked surprised at the name. "You remember Nicaise?"

Now it was Damen smiling a rueful smile. "He stabbed me with a fork. He is hard to forget."

Laurent laughed at that, fondly shaking his head. "He was harder to convince than most, but yes, I eventually got him away from my uncle and out of the palace. He's actually going to school now." A cloud passed over Laurent's gaze as he remembered something. "Uncle was even more wretched for a time after that, if you can imagine. I paid for that one."

Damen wanted to ask how, to take some of the burden for himself. But more than that, Damen wanted to take the clouds away from Laurent's eyes. He stroked a hand soothingly up his back, and lifted his other to cup Laurent's face, thumb stroking across his cheek bone. Their lips met again in a gentle kiss. 

Then Damen was kneeling before Laurent, fingers pulling at the laces at his waist. He was spreading Laurent's pants open when Laurent cupped the side of his face and tilted it up to meet his gaze.

"Damen, I - are you sure?"

Damen leaned into Laurent's touch before meeting his eyes. He knew what Laurent meant. He was asking about the act. Maybe reminding Damen of the situation they were in. But Damen chose to hear it as 'Are you sure about me?" so he answered with his whole heart.

"Completely," Damen sighed, nose to Laurent's groin breathing in his scent. Laurent was only half hard, head just peeking out from the foreskin, so Damen circled him gently with his hand and started a slow rhythm while he placed reverent kisses across this new expanse of soft skin. 

Others might not know from looking at him in all of his usual layers, but Laurent trained hard and often. His body had as much muscle as a career soldier, and this is where he was strongest - right at his core. Damen ran his tongue over the dips and grooves of his lower abs, and licked across the cut of his torso at his hip. He felt Laurent slowly swelling in one hand, while his other hand gripped a strong thigh toned from riding.

When he felt Laurent fully hard and heavy in his hand, he finally wrapped his lips around the swollen head of Laurent's cock. He felt a tentative hand in his hair. He hummed his appreciation to encourage Laurent's touch, and felt Laurent twitch under him at the sensation. 

But Laurent didn't grab on, or pull Damen's hair. He brushed Damen's curls back from his forehead, and caressed the line of his face, following his hairline to his jaw. Laurent's other hand gently brushed the hair behind his ear, and played with the shell, fingering the lobe lightly. Damen flicked his eyes up at the gentle handling, and almost lost it when he was met with the utter devotion shining through Laurent's eyes back at him.

Laurent always touched him like this, carefully, reverently. And it wrecked him every time. No one else had ever treated him as precious, like they were holding something cherished. That touch, combined with that look, was too much for Damen at the moment. He turned his eyes back down, and focused on his task, worshipping Laurent with his mouth and hands, telling him with his body how cherished he was to him.

When Laurent's breath hitched, Damen knew he was close. When his breaths came in shorter pants, Damen knew he had hit the rhythm Laurent needed. And Damen felt the tightening in Laurent's core even before Laurent called out to him. 

"Damen. Damen, I'm close," Laurent called, voice all breath. Damen doubled down, taking Laurent to the root, hollowing his cheeks, and sucking hard on the next pass. Laurent gasped and tightened his fingers in Damen's hair. Damen lit up at this tangible reaction from Laurent, and continued his slow unraveling, determined to take Laurent apart like this. "Damen, I - I won't be able to stop," Laurent warned, and Damen groaned around him to tell him he wanted it. "Ah, fuck, I - Damen."

Laurent finally let go, cresting over, and losing himself as he thrust into Damen's mouth, coming down his throat in hot spurts. Damen made sure to swallow it all, knowing Laurent would be embarrassed if there was a mess left over.

Laurent finished hunched over him, still cradling Damen's head. When the last of the tension left his body, he leaned back against the door, and slid down bonelessly to the floor even with Damen. Damen caught him in his arms and held him close, sharing a kiss that tasted of Laurent. Laurent gained back some coordination, and let his hands wander over Damen's body, squeezing at his arms and his hips as he moved them downwards.

When Laurent reached his thighs and then started up his skirt, Damen stopped him with a hand. "You don't need to," he said against his mouth, not wanting to end the kiss. 

But Laurent pulled back to look him in the eye, and Damen was bowled over again at the emotion in them. Laurent's eyes were so alive, speaking to him all on their own. "I want to," he assured Damen. "Do you - do you want it?" he added almost hesitantly.

"Laurent," Damen breathed, crashing their mouths together in another desperate kiss. "Yes. I want whatever you will give me," he answered, and it sounded too honest to his own ears.

Laurent's hands moved then, breaking away from Damen's hold, and both wrapping around him. Damen was painfully hard from getting Laurent off, and even just that light pressure was enough to have him jerking up into his hold. The kiss got messy after that, but Damen moved a hand to the back of Laurent's head, not willing to let it break off. 

Between the kiss, Laurent's knowing hands touching him exactly as he liked, and the taste of Laurent still on his tongue, Damen was close embarrassingly fast. "Laurent. Laurent, just like that. I'm close already," he pleaded against his mouth. "Where do you want me to come?"

Laurent dodged out from his kiss, and Damen let out a desperate sound at the loss, but then Laurent lowered his head to join his hands, and Damen lost all his words anyway. The sight of Laurent's head between his legs was still a rare one, and he definitely hadn't seen it in over a year. Damen's orgasm hit him quickly before he was ready, his grip turning bruising on Laurent's waist. 

Laurent swallowed everything he gave him, like Damen wasn't pouring it down his throat like a firehose. It had just been so long. Damen laughed in disbelief when he was done, feeling light.

When Damen pulled Laurent back up, he was smiling wide. Laurent rolled his eyes when he saw it, but couldn't suppress his own grin. Damen wiped a bit of drool or semen or likely both from the corner of Laurent's mouth, and then pulled him back in for another kiss, this one tasting of them both.

This kiss lacked the urgency of the others, slow and sweet and tender. When Damen finally pulled away, he rearranged them so that his back was at the door, Laurent reclining between his legs, back to Damen's chest. They were both still dressed, Damen just having to drop his skirt, and Laurent just tucking himself away. He left his laces loose at his neck and waist, and Damen revelled in the dishabille, fingers tangling in the loose strings when he wrapped both arms around him, one hand low and one high. 

They were quiet as their hearts settled, and Damen hooked his chin over one of Laurent's shoulders. "Was that okay?" he asked.

Laurent laughed, and leaned his head back on Damen's shoulder. "Always fishing for compliments," he said fondly. "Yes, Damen. It was good."

After they relaxed like that for a few minutes, Laurent lifted his head, and scooted down slightly, so that the back of his head was in the center on Damen's chest, his shoulders rolled in on himself. The new position hid him from Damen's view as he looked down at his own hands fidgeting on his bent knees, and Damen started to grow uneasy.

That feeling was solidified when Laurent said, "we need to talk about the wedding." 

Damen wanted to gather Laurent back up into his arms, but he settled for rubbing his palms up and down Laurent's arms. "Do we have to? Now?"

"Yeah," Laurent sighed, shifting so his back was to one of Damen's arms, and he could look up into Damen's face again. "I think I should explain, and we can set expectations."

Damen's heart rate picked right back up, but he draped his other arm around Laurent's waist so he held him loosely in the cradle of his arms, fighting the urge to tighten his grasp and clutch him to his chest. "Okay then," he said as levelly as possible.

Laurent's eyes when they met Damen's were wide and vulnerable and heartbreaking. Damen wanted to stop him from saying whatever he was going to say, but he met those eyes as bravely as he could, and gave Laurent the space to speak.

Laurent started hesitantly. "What I have with Alaia is - not like this," he said, eyes flicking away as he blushed so beautifully before bravely meeting Damen's gaze again. "But she is good and true and deserves loyalty."

Damen swallowed and nodded, but stayed silent to let Laurent continue.

"I don't think she even expects monogamy after we marry, but I don't think -" Laurent paused to take a breath. "I don't think I can continue to have this with you after the wedding. Casually, I mean. It is too much for me, too big, and I can't - I cannot convince myself otherwise. It would feel like a betrayal. To myself."

Damen wanted to argue. He wanted to say that he didn't want this casually either, he wanted so much more. It was big for him too. Unmovable. He wanted the wedding for himself, the loyalty. He wanted Laurent to be with him, and no one else, forever. But it sounded like Laurent had already made his choice, and Damen wasn't it. 

Instead, he held onto the 'after the wedding' part of Laurent's speech. He gripped Laurent just a little tighter so he didn't feel so much like he was slipping away from him. "But you are not married yet."

"No," Laurent agreed, "not married yet. Three weeks."

"Three weeks," Damen agreed, and then he kissed Laurent again. If three weeks with Laurent were all he had left, he wasn't going to waste them. He was not lying when he told Laurent he would take whatever he would give him.

Chapter Text

Less than two weeks after they had formed their plan in Laurent's rooms, the fruits of their labor started to show.

Whispers snaked through the palace. Snickers could be heard in the training yard. Sly smiles were exchanged over tables. 

And the uncle's usual crowd of sycophants had started to thin. Even those that remained in his orbit seemed to be passing stories around the periphery, tittering and sharing muted grins that they tried to hide from their subject.

Damen was willing to bet that those that remained closest to the uncle during all of this were those most entrenched in his schemes. He was sure Laurent had already taken notice, but told himself to bring it up to him all the same next time he could. 

For now though, Damen was across the great hall from the essence of his thoughts, standing between Nik and Alaia, as they heard first hand which of the comments they had started had made the rounds. 

"....can't even negotiate a proper contract with his pets to keep them around a full year," one courtier whispered to the group. "They always seem to run off to seek fortune elsewhere. And he is trying to negotiate foreign trade agreements!" he finished, smiling conspiratorially with the knowledge that he spoke of the favored provocative subject of the week.

The man seemed unconcerned that he was essentially weakening Vere's standing in the eyes of three foreign citizens that would be involved in said trade negotiations, but Damen supposed that was standard for Vere. Each one of these nobles would tear another one down if it would create the smallest platform to elevate themselves on. Damen considered that the most difficult part of Auguste's reign, after settling the current most urgent situation, would be fostering fraternity in his noble class. In their current state, they would tear Vere apart from the inside before any other country even had the chance.

Alaia, however, was nodding along with the courtier, a knowing smile of her own luring the group towards her words. Damen saw then how charming she could be. How she would be able to turn court favor to her side. How she probably caught Laurent's attention in the first place. Damen tried not to be too bitter about it, but he was definitely not there yet.

"I am almost sure that the only reason he is so adamant on a new trade agreement with Vask is to add more furs to the import expectation than King Auguste had already agreed to," she added in her own whisper, causing everyone to lean towards her, gazes greedy for the information only she could provide. "I have heard he intends to turn them into hair pieces to hide the fact he is going bald!" 

Damen only just held back his snort at her delivery. But he supposed he needn't have bothered, as everyone else listening in let out a similar noise.

"Everything on him is as real as a 'Charls Original' bought on a street corner in Bazal," someone added after the laughter died down. Damen had heard that one already tonight, but it succeeded in getting another cheap laugh for its utterer out of the group. 

"As if he could wear an authentic Charls piece," another joined in, "I heard he has stiffed Charls so many times that the designer refuses to work with him unless King Auguste signs the commission."

"Just another instance of King Auguste covering his debts," Alaia agreed, pretending at solemnity this time. It finally cracked a smile out of Damen. She really was a good actress. He could see her and Laurent moving about the town together, in disguise to hide their true identities. No, wait, he'd rather not picture that. 

"He is practically a pet himself!" someone daringly declared. Damen could tell it was pushing the envelope with all the shocked and delighted laughs it drew from the group. "King Auguste funds his lifestyle so he can play royalty on a court jester's budget."

Damen caught Nik's eyes, wide and shocked at the boldness of these nobles talking about the royal family, in present company to boot. It made Damen's grin grow even wider to see his friend's honor so clearly affronted. 

"Drowning himself in debt just for King Auguste to pay for a pretty coffin," someone piled on, unaccountably tickled by the grim statement. 

"Just a human peacock, always strutting, never soaring," another agreed, no trace of irony at the flamboyant statement.

Alaia was still nodding solemnly, having let the conversation take on a life of its own, not cracking at the increasingly ridiculous insults the emboldened courtiers leveled against the uncle.

Damen lifted his head in time to see Laurent's amused grin flash in Alaia's direction. When he caught Damen looking, his smile morphed into something soft and private, before flicking his attention back to his brother and Berenger before anyone else had noticed his attention had strayed.

They had agreed that Laurent and Auguste were to stear clear of the gossip being shilled about their uncle. From their own lips, the words would seem like a petty family squabble, and they didn't want to take the risk of the anyone brushing off their comments as idle jealousy, and turning it against them.

Damen was less adept at hiding his attention now that it was snagged by Laurent. His mouth had retained an amused tilt, and he was standing loosely, holding a cup that almost certainly contained water, but would convince an average viewer that their prince was joining in on their merrymaking. 

Damen was hit all at once at the reminder of how enchanting Laurent was, when his charm was on display like this, golden hair and features glinting in the candlelight.

Laurent was rolling his eyes at something Berenger's pet was saying to him which only seemed to encourage the redhead to amp up his flirtatious demeanor. Damen had no idea how Berenger handled his pet flirting with everyone around him like that. Laurent was only on the receiving end, and not even truly Damen's, and Damen still itched to go over there and wind his arm around Laurent's waist obviously enough to publicly stake his claim on him. 

He could imagine Laurent's warm laugh at Damen's transparent jealousy. The teasing smile he would aim up at him, even as he leaned into Damen's hold. It would take all of Damen's restraint not to drag Laurent off then to remind them both who they belonged to.

Damen's fantasy was cut short by the reminder that Laurent didn't actually belong to him, but to another. 

It made him wonder if Laurent planned on taking a pet after he was married. He had never shown an interest in the practice before, but he had said he didn't think Alaia expected monogamy from him, didn't he? And he had made it clear that he still didn't want Damen, so what was left? A pretty redhead on Laurent's arm at events where Alaia wouldn't be present? That didn't sound like Laurent to Damen at all, but Damen still felt the humiliating urge to go ask. To understand what was going on in Laurent's head.

His feet were carrying him to Laurent before he even recognized the movement.

He heard Nik asking after him, but he was already moving through the crowd. As he went, he heard snippets of comments only confirming that gossip of the uncle was indeed the fashionable conversation point of the moment, but he moved without stopping.

When he arrived beside Laurent, Berenger's pet looked at him curiously, Auguste uncharitably, but all Damen could notice was Laurent looking at him warmly. 

He didn't know what to say now that he was here, but luckily Laurent covered for him. 

"Your group over there certainly seems to be having fun," Laurent said with a smile in his voice. 

"Yeah," Damen latched on to the conversation topic, ignoring the breathlessness of his first word. "Spirits seem to be high tonight."

Laurent tipped his cup to him, but then turned his attention back to what Berenger was saying, leaving Damen to hover next to him, consciously not wrapping his arm around him as he dreamed, and getting his own introduction to the redhead at Berenger's side.

When he looked in the uncle's direction later that night, he was already looking back at Damen. The uncle's mouth curved into what was probably supposed to be a smile as he nodded at him. Damen refused to shiver even as a chill ran down his spine.

--

Later that week, Damen was finally sifting through his correspondence pile, and drafting arguments that he wanted to go over with Nikandros. 

His kyroi and other military strategists would be arriving in Vere in a week's time, just in time for the four nation summit that Auguste had organized to take advantage of the attendance and good will of the wedding.

Damen's objective was to basically turn the summit into peace talks with Vask. He had met Empress Vishkar before, and got along with her alright, but she had been stubbornly silent since the first border skirmishes.

If he accomplished nothing else for Akielos while he was in Vere, ending the border crisis would make the trip worth it.

There were some things he wanted to run by Laurent and Auguste as well. Things to know their stance on, or what things he could expect their support on, so he grabbed the parchment he was writing his notes on, and left his rooms to find them. 

Both their rooms were empty, and no one was in the training grounds at this time of day, so Damen moved towards the council chambers, thinking they could be preparing for the summit just as he was. 

He heart quickened when he heard Laurent's voice floating from one of the rooms, but he slowed his steps when he recognized the voice that answered him.

"You must know, nephew. It is a new development, after all. Why would Charls' assistant now insist that he can only take a commission from Auguste?"

"I don't know, uncle," Laurent replied. "You know Charls won't accept any form of payment from me either. I just make sure Auguste gives him a sizable donation every time I get a new piece. Maybe he wants to handle all transactions from the palace in the same way."

"Hm," hummed his uncle, "plausible. If he would speak to me before the payment, and not only after. Guess again."

Damen heard Laurent's exaggerated sigh. "I don't want to play your riddle game today, uncle. If you know the answer already, just tell me."

"I think," his uncle started menacingly, "that my nephews are engaging in not so honorable behavior." When Laurent didn't reply, he went on. "I think your Vaskian whore and the Akielon brute are in on it." Damen flinched, but started moving towards the door again anyway. "And I think you are in way over your head, nephew."

Damen slammed opened the door just in time. He had heard enough.

"What is going on here?" he asked loudly as he forced his way in.

The sight of Laurent's uncle crowding Laurent toward the back wall had Damen seeing red. He threw back the uncle's shoulder as he roughly brushed past him to get to Laurent. The monster was lucky he wasn't touching Laurent at the time, or Damen might have ripped his arm right off him. 

"What happened?" he asked again, to Laurent this time, close enough to point the question directly at him.

"Nothing," Laurent said, blank-faced, and Damen hated it. "We were just talking."

Meanwhile, the uncle had regained his composure after the interruption and rough handling. He sneered at his nephew, "Prince Damianos rushes to your side once more. He is strikingly like Auguste like that, isn't he? Tastes never change then. Not really." He threw a disgusted look in their direction before he swept out of the room in full dramatic Veretian fashion.

Damen watched with narrowed eyes until the uncle was clear of the door and out of sight. Only then did he turn back to Laurent, softening his gaze. "What was that about?"

Laurent's tension lessoned by a fraction but was still evident in his posture. "He was insinuating that I have lain with my brother previously," he said, referencing the uncles parting statement, as nonchalant as possible given the subject. "Don't worry," he added, unnecessarily to Damen, "I haven't."

Damen winced at the harsh tone. "Gods, he is heinous. Does he even have a low he won't stoop to?"

Laurent bristled. "You don't need to remind me how disgusting he is. I know. Just because that particular claim isn't true, doesn't mean I don't know what he meant in regards to me. Auguste may be untouched by our family taint, but I am not."

Damen wanted to flinch away from Laurent's anger, but knew that was the wrong reaction. He stepped closer instead, aiming for calm. "Laurent, stop, that is not true at all. You are not tainted. He is the sole rotten apple in your family tree."

Laurent stayed silent, clearly stewing, and Damen could tell he didn't agree with Damen's assessment. Damen's heart broke. He wanted to tell Laurent how good he was over and over again until he believed it of himself. 

But Laurent was still holding himself closed off from Damen, so Damen decided to change the subject to another burning question he had instead.

"Where are you guards?"

Laurent shrugged, spiking Damen's annoyance higher. "Posted down the hall."

Damen tried to breathe out slowly before he did something extreme like shake Laurent to force him to face him openly. "Why are they not with you?"

Laurent shrugged again, and this time Damen did reach out to put a hand on the offending shoulder. To hold it down, nothing else. The fact that Laurent allowed the contact, though, was a sign that the tension from his conversation with his uncle was slowly leaving his body. Damen squeezed. Just to make sure the shoulder didn't get any ideas of raising up again.

"I asked them to wait there so I could speak with my uncle alone. I wanted to see where his head was at, if any of our work was paying off. And Damen," Laurent's expression was finally morphing away from his blank stare, and something like excitement was overtaking it. "It's good. He's rattled, and off his game. He was openly aggressive, and slinging barely veiled threats. I was almost certain I could provoke him into pulling a dagger on me right here."

Damen looked at him like he was sprouting a second head, hand tightening on his shoulder until Laurent winced before Damen had even noticed he was doing it. He immediately loosened his hold, but didn't let go.

"Have you gone insane? Why are you provoking him at all, let alone when you are by yourself without your guards? That man is dangerous on a good day, but desperate and unsure of himself? That only makes him more unpredictable. More of a danger to you."

Laurent scoffed, and Damen wanted to shake him again. He did grasp his other shoulder just so he could feel Laurent safe in his arms for the moment.

"I know that," Laurent insisted. "But Damen. I can't believe I thought him a brilliant strategist all this time, because he was always so many steps ahead and we were always chasing. But running a smear campaign is so easy. It takes a moment, maybe two, to spin a lie, and months and months of constant work to correct it. If you even can eliminate the doubt the lie caused in the first place."

Drawn to the spark of life that was ignited in Laurent, Damen wrapped his arms around him, holding him securely around the waist. He brought their faces closer together. 

"That isn't all he has though. Don't forget the assassination attempts you've already dodged. And he has been able to secure alliances. We still don't even know how far his reach goes." He tried to soften his words by rubbing his nose along Laurent's. "He has shown himself to be an unprincipled swine, but what does an injured boar do when cornered?"

Laurent looked up earnestly at Damen. They were so close, Damen felt like he was falling into Laurent's eyes. He answered his own question in a trance. 

"They lash out."

"I know. I do," Laurent admitted, breath from the words hitting Damen's mouth. "But I can't help feeling a little hopeful now that we are on the offensive for once. For gaining back some ground."

They were so close, it felt like they didn't even have to move and then they were kissing. Damen nearly forgot about the danger lurking just on the other side of the door, and for a moment, everything felt right. 

But too quickly, Laurent pulled away. "I know he has more, and that we need to stay alert. And we need to be able to understand how far our own reach has gotten in the last couple weeks. That is why we are going to the village tonight to stop into the places of business his own allies frequent."

"Wait," Damen said, head slowly clearing from the lovely fog that had invaded it during the kiss. "We're doing what?"

--

"I don't like this plan," Auguste said crankily.

"So you've said," Laurent sighed, fitting an ugly brown wig over his brother's hair. "You know, you do not have to come."

"I like this plan even less being left behind," Auguste said stubbornly. "You need support."

"Well thanks to you, there is a battalion of guards with us," Laurent replied dryly, putting an uglier hat over the wig.

"It is not a battalion," Auguste argued. "It is not even nearly enough for the four of us to go into town on an errand." He gestured at Damen, Alaia, Laurent and himself.

"And yet it is too many for us to travel unremarkably," Laurent pointed out, grabbing some sort of cream from his pack.

"Is that makeup?" Auguste asked, aghast and temporarily distracted. "Where did you even get all of this stuff?"

"You have the most recognizable face in Vere," Laurent snapped back, "yes it is makeup." He combed back his own shaggy sandy brown wig before going on nonchalantly. "And lucky for us, Charls is doing the costumes for a new play that is debuting in just a few months. And he let me - borrow - some of the prototypes."

"I want Damen's costume," Auguste said mulishly as he allowed Laurent to distort his features with the makeup. Damen looked down at his costume. He was already dressed, with a fake nose and sporting his own wig with straight, dark hair the fell down to his shoulders. He appeared to be some type of minor noble of no note.

"Damen's costume is the biggest one they had. He gets it," Laurent replied even as his brow furrowed in concentration with his task. "But you, brother," he added in a lighter tone, "are a hardworking farmer who's only son and farmhand is being taken away to fight a war for the crown in a faraway land. You should be honored," he said faux seriously, "you are the hero of the story."

Auguste rolled his eyes, but did sit a little taller while Laurent finished his work on him.

"Who am I supposed to be?" Alaia asked fiddling with her short cropped red wig under a ridiculously overdesigned hat. Laurent had given her a fake beard in an attempt to hide her obviously female features, as a solo woman couldn't exactly be seen out fraternizing with a group of men in Vere.

Laurent grinned at her. "You are the unlikely love interest of our hero here. A foppish dandy that is unsuccessfully trying to dodge their duty to the army." A roguish glint sparkled in his eye as Alaia made blushing eye contact with Auguste. "I'll be honest. I just really wanted to see that costume in use."

Alaia looked down at herself again, pleased with the context of her character, and admiring the overly decorated fabric with new eyes.

"And you?" Damen asked Laurent, guessing he had picked the best role for himself. 

"I believe the card attached to mine said 'merchant #3." At Damen's expectant raised eyebrows, Laurent shrugged. "It was my size." Damen snorted.

"I'd like to voice my agreement with King Auguste," Nikandros called from where he was painstakingly lacing up the Akielon guards who were unfamiliar with the process, "I do not like this plan either."

Laurent rolled his eyes, but grinned as he cheekily put a dusting of powder on Auguste's nose before Auguste finally slapped his hand away. "You are also not essential to this mission," he responded to Nikandros, putting his supplies away. "Feel free not to come."

Nik grumbled something about not letting Damen follow some blonde to his death, but said aloud, "who, may I ask, is essential to this ridiculous mission?"

"Myself," Laurent shrugged. The motion tickled Damen this time in context, but he could tell it exasperated a lot more of the people in the room. Laurent was having fun. "And Jord, because I take the safety of my person so seriously." He threw a wink at his captain. Jord just shook his head in response, not letting himself grin at Laurent's obvious playfulness. The Veretian guards were able to get away with just changing out of their livery into their plain clothes, so they were already ready to go.

"Okay," Alaia clapped her hands when she realized everyone was ready, and no one planned on staying behind. "Who fancies a pint then?"

--

They arrived in staggered groups of two to four, tying up their horses outside of town and finishing the trek on foot so as not to draw attention to themselves. 

The atmosphere inside the tavern Laurent pointed them to was warm and busy, a late dinner service still being served, and drinks flowing around tables of travelers and regulars. 

Luckily, they didn't have to explain their presence, as so many patrons had traveled to Arles for the wedding festivities, that they fit right in among the outsiders, accents blending in with the crowd.

They claimed a table off to one side, by the fireplace that was stifling for the season, but still roaring anyway. As soon as the barmaid came to greet them, Auguste ordered enough food to fill the table, and Damen bought drinks for everyone to nurse for the night. 

Once everyone had something in their hands, the tension seemed to bleed out of them, and they were able to focus on what they came there for.

They broke off one by one, guards scanning the premises, and the rest of them joining other small groups and exchanging conversation. Laurent even joined a card game for a stint, but Auguste fetched him from it as it got rowdier and rowdier after each round. Laurent came back rosy cheeked and bright eyed, wearing a new - but clearly old - hat. Damen couldn't suppress his smile, even when Auguste ripped the hat off him and threw it back into the crowd around the card game. They all roared their approval at the windfall.

They didn't even need to probe very hard for the information they were looking for. Everyone there was eager to share and trade gossip that they had heard on the road. This crowd didn't revel in petty insults like the courtiers in the palace did, but they were still interested in the inner workings of court.

One group felt bad their prince was being given to an uncouth Vaskian for peace, but they were endlessly intrigued about the celebrations the Vaskian delegation would no doubt put on after the ceremony.

Damen delighted in talking to this group for a spell, ignoring Nik's stern stare and Alaia's raised eyebrows. 

Another group thought it was a shame King Auguste hadn't found a bride yet, having to watch his younger brother get married first. He would make such beautiful, strong babies. 

Alaia and Laurent ribbed Auguste about that one relentlessly, Alaia touching his arm, showing herself impressed with his strength, and Laurent fingering his brown wig lovingly.

An answering group said they were not surprised their king had not had time to settle down yet, when he had to cover for his uncle's many misdealings. 

This got everyone's attention, and they all converged on this conversation, drawing a few more from the tavern's crowd to listen in.

"It is an embarrassment for a grown man to live off the good will of his nephew, acting so superior to all his other countrymen all the while."

"At least I provide for my own family, and do not leech off hardworking relatives. What does he do for others?"

Laurent side-eyed Auguste, both mildly surprised their influence had come so far already, but Damen wondered how much of this sentiment was truly new.

"I'd like to meet him in the street, take his measure as a man myself and see who really comes out on top between us when we use our own hands."

It was all the predictable posturing of men who had traveled far, had a bit to drink, and were talking about a man they would never meet. Still, it was an encouraging look into public opinion.

After an hour or so, they had some warm food in their bellies, they had worked somewhat down their glasses of ale, and they were feeling pretty comfortable. It reminded Damen of when he and Laurent would do this in years past, dressing up and patronizing the local businesses either in Ios or here in Arles. Sometimes Auguste would join them, sometimes Nik, but always the two of them.

They would play games, or talk to the locals, and lose themselves in the entertainments that their own cities could provide them, but only in disguise. Like that, Damen could openly sling his arm around Laurent's shoulders, and Laurent would lean into his side, making a home for himself. They would make eyes at each other all day or all night, Laurent teasing him with light touches and breathy words until Damen either bought a room upstairs or dragged Laurent somewhere equally private in the open air.

Laurent was sitting next to him now, but there was a noticeable lack of touching and teasing. Damen caught Laurent's eye anyway, and the spark of something there made Damen wonder if the same memories were playing through Laurent's head. 

He wanted to tease him back, whisper something in Laurent's ear to drive him a little crazy, even if Damen wasn't sure that it could come to anything now. But before he mustered up the nerve, a gruff voice invaded their atmosphere.

"Better a man that knows how to get his hands dirty, than a green boy that has had everything handed to him since birth."

Damen looked up curiously, but the man wasn't speaking to them, but to the gossipy travelers next to them. He got mostly perturbed looks for his trouble, but there were a few surrounding them that were nodding in agreement. 

"The Green King Auguste has lived his whole life in the palace, and is weak to the Akielons," the man went on, and Damen saw some of his guards sharpen their attention at the call out. "He would rather play act at a false peace than stand up to the brutes. And that is who you want negotiating for Vere's best interest?"

A few more murmured their assent to these words. Damen saw Auguste frown, but was surprised when it was Alaia who spoke up. 

"King Auguste fought on the front lines of the war for six years. There are many eye witness accounts of his bravery and military prowess, as well as his diplomacy and peace keeping. There is no one better than King Auguste to know the realities of war and its toll on a country."

"It is said King Aleron put Auguste out there on the front lines, hoping he died," a clearly drink patron chimed in, emboldened by the topic. "His great, big, bastard of a son. He wanted him out of the way without having to admit he was cuckolded by his Kemptian bride whore."

Damen turned wide eyes on Laurent to see his reaction to these accusations, but Laurent was focused on the speaker, eyes narrowed, taking in the developing scene. 

Alaia just rolled her eyes and again leaned closer to the dissenter. "One only has to look at the similarities between King Auguste and Prince Laurent to know that theory is a crock of shit. Can I interest you in a bottle of snake oil too?"

She had fully gained the attention of the first speaker now, and he grinned cruelly down at her. Auguste tensed at her side.

"You speak as if you know them, but a pretty thing like you can't imagine their like," he sneered, taking in her short red wig and extravagant outfit. "I actually agree with you. They are full-blooded brothers, which just makes their relationship sicker. So in love with themselves, they sell out the rest of Vere to lay in the mud with the barbarians. Just so King Auguste can stick his cock down the pretty prince's throat whenever it spikes his fancy."

Alaia scrunched her nose at him. "What an awful way to say that no one has ever loved you." 

Angered, the man reached for her, "I can show a pretty bitch like you that sort of love if you're so -"

Before his hand could make contact with Alaia's shoulder, Auguste had launched himself from the bench, tackling the man around the middle with such impact, they fell into the crowd behind them. The force of his attack toppled the bench they were sitting on, sending Alaia down to the ground as well.

Damen blinked in surprise, and before he knew it, the King of Vere was in the dead center of a tavern brawl, throwing his fists at anyone that tried to come to his victim's aide. 

Next to him, Laurent had similarly frozen in shock, but it only took one more blink before they both scrambled into action, Laurent ducking under the table to pick Alaia up before she was trampled, and Damen jumping over it to fight his way to Auguste. 

By the time he got to him, Auguste's guards had already reached him, and they shoved the king into Damen's arms to extract him while they took over his fight. Damen kept his arms around Auguste as he maneuvered him through the ruckus outside, where Laurent already had Alaia propped up on a bench, around the corner, looking her over for injuries. 

Auguste shoved out of Damen's locked arms to check on Alaia, and after his fretting got in Laurent's way one too many times, Laurent shoved him down on the bench next to her. 

"That was monumentally stupid," Laurent told both of them, looking like a disappointed father to two recalcitrant teens. Alaia had a cut through the shoulder of her jacket that was bleeding a bit. Auguste looked predictably worse, scratches and bruises blooming on his face, and one sleeve half ripped at the seam. 

Alaia's expression looked terribly guilty. Auguste still looked angry.

"Do you think Charls will be mad about the costumes?" Alaia asked Laurent, worry evident in her voice.

Laurent snorted. "Luckily, Charls is an exceedingly gifted tailor. He shall adapt." He looked over at his brother. "Though I may offer to buy them just to have a souvenir of Auguste's first tavern brawl. Who were you warning against starting one of those again?"

Auguste scoffed. "It was not my first." Laurent's eyebrows raised, but Auguste went on. "And I didn't exactly start it, did I?"

"You certainly kicked it up a notch though, didn't you?" Laurent returned. 

Auguste was about to argue back when Alaia burst out laughing. "His face when you connected with him though!" she gasped, taking them all by surprise. "He didn't see it coming at all." She took a couple breaths to steady herself before she smiled at Auguste, who was smiling back at her now. "Not very honorable of you, though, hitting him like that. Against dueling code for sure."

Auguste smiled wider. "He was an ass," he said. "He deserved it."

Alaia chuckled again. "He sure did."

Auguste joined in with her laughter, before cutting off abruptly. "Alaia, you're bleeding!"

"Oh yeah," she said, looking over her shoulder, "that? It's just a scratch."

The guards had finally arrived outside, one of them with an emergency medical kit, and Laurent was setting it up to clean her cut. 

"A scratch from an unthinkably filthy tavern floor," Laurent expanded. "It needs to be cleaned. And covered."

Auguste's frown was back. "I'm taking you back."

"It is a scratch!" Alaia repeated, "I'm fine!" But that didn't convince Auguste, who continued to fuss and hover over Laurent while he cleaned it.

"Auguste, sit down, and let someone see to your own scratches," Laurent complained. Then he looked back at Alaia, speaking softly. "Let him take you back. Even a scratch from a tavern floor as that one can hold any number of infections. Paschal really should take a look at this himself. He can clean it properly, and give you a salve."

Alaia pouted, but nodded to Auguste. 

"We are all going back," Auguste insisted to Laurent. "Look what has happened from this plan already," he said, gesturing to Alaia despite her protests, "we must go back."

Laurent met his gaze. "You and the guards are enough to take her back, I am staying to finish this." 

"What is there left to finish?" Auguste argued.

Laurent looked at him pointedly. "There is one more place on our list."

Auguste looked at him, wide-eyed. "You cannot possibly go there. Without guards? No."

"I am," Laurent stubbornly declared. "I can take Damianos."

Damen's heart soared at Laurent's trust in him. Auguste was not as moved. "Take Jord. And Lazar. And Damen must take two as well. We will take Nikandros with us, and the rest."

"I don't think -" Nikandros started, looking seriously at Damen like he was trying to have one of those silent conversations they loved so much in Vere.

"Go," Damen interrupted, already nodding at Pallas and Lydos to stay. "There are six of us, and we won't be far behind you. We will be safe enough to get home."

"I do not like this plan," Auguste said again for the fifteenth time tonight.

"I know," Laurent said gently this time. "But thank you for coming anyway. And your insistence on bringing so many guards has made it all the easier for us to split up."

Auguste groaned. "Please be careful," he pleaded.

"I will," Laurent promised. "We are close, brother. We can finish this."

Auguste finally nodded at him. They said more with their eyes, and Damen was struck by the thought of how much these two brothers must have seen together in their short lives. Between the war, the loss of both their parents, and the fight for Vere that followed, Damen imagined that they've seen lifetimes through together.

A nonsensical part of Damen was jealous about that. Laurent and Auguste had faced everything together since the war finally ended and Auguste could return home to realize something was wrong with Laurent. And of course Damen was happy that Laurent had had Auguste through it all, but there was a very primal part of Damen that wanted to be the one that Laurent leaned on when he needed it. 

Well, he was leaning on him now, he thought as they cleaned up and saw the rest of the group off. He tried to be happy about that.

Laurent took their remaining numbers down a series of alleys to a dark door step in the middle of the village. 

"Okay, it will be closer proximity in here, so we need names," Laurent started. "I'll be Stéphane, and you can be -"

"Don't say it," Damen pleaded.

"Lamen," Laurent finished at the same time. "What's wrong with Lamen?"

"Are you kidding?" Damen asked. "We've been doing this sort of thing for how long now, and you still haven't come up with a better name for me? Besides the fact that it is not even a real name."

Laurent considered him before waving it off. "You have had just as long to think of one yourself if you do not like it. So unless you have one ready..."

"Lamen it is," Damen conceded. He never thought these personas out like Laurent did, and always just acted like himself in the end.

Laurent grinned at him. "Alright," he said to the group again, "same plan really, feel the temperature of the people and drop your own seeds. You might find the topics to be a little more pointed this time though."

Lazar was grinning madly, making eyes at Pallas, and Damen didn't understand why until Laurent pushed open the door.

A brothel. They were at a brothel. He was at a brothel with Laurent, and definitely not supposed to be indulging in any sort of fantasy with the man beside him at the moment. 

Damen tried hard to stamp down his surprise, and the spike of arousal, but it was impossible when the Madame greeted Laurent personally and fondly with, "ah, my favorite patron! What are you looking for tonight?" 

Unsubtly, Damen's eyes snapped back to Laurent, as he intensely wondered what Laurent had been in here for before tonight.

"Just gossip tonight," Laurent replied, and once again Damen's mind was spinning with what else Laurent had sought out here.

"I have a long list of details for you since last time," the Madame said seriously, "but perhaps you'd rather hear it from -"

"You are fine," Laurent interrupted, walking towards her, "unless you are too busy."

"Not at all," she said, smiling affectionately at him. She looked at the rest of them over her shoulder. "Enjoy the sights, boys, we'll be right over here."

Damen and the others looked around curiously as they walked away. They were just in the receiving room, but soft seating, silks of every color, and perfumes were abundant. It had been a long time since Damen was in any sort of brothel, and he had never been in a Veretian one, knowing what they thought of his preferences before Laurent. But surprisingly enough, that didn't seem to be a barrier here as both working men and women were already weaving their way towards them.

Damen ignored them, and his curiosity. His eyes were still locked on Laurent, even in his silly wig and costume, wondering what relationship he could possibly have with the Madame and this place.

"How do you work for him?" he heard Lydos ask Jord. "It is exhausting trying to keep up with him for a night, let alone guarding him day after day."

Lazar, enjoying the many views, grinned and cut in. "He is never boring, that is for sure."

Jord shrugged, looking more Veretian than Damen typically saw him. "You get used to his movements. He is variable, and sometimes capricious, but he is not erratic. You learn to give him a long leash, ebbing to and fro. It's more fluid than a typical guard gig," he said gesturing at Damen. Damen remembered his own words describing how Laurent used his guards, and was struck by the similarity in Jord's explanation. He thanked the gods again for Laurent's ability to find unflinchingly loyal men who matched with him so well.

Lazar had sandwiched one of the larger men in between him and Pallas, ignoring the look Jord was giving him, but the rest of them were still standing around awkwardly when Laurent returned to them. He looked disconcerted and it immediately put Damen on edge. 

"I can't go in there," he said to Damen and Jord both. "And you probably shouldn't either," he added to Jord and Lazar this time, who despite his position was giving Laurent his full attention. "It is Govart." 

The name was not familiar to Damen, but he saw Jord stiffen, and his fight instinct went into overdrive. Were they about to have another brawl in a brothel of all places?

"We need to leave," Jord said immediately. "You need to leave," he implored Laurent.

"No!" Laurent said quickly, but quieted his voice upon seeing Jord's face. "It is not just Govart. It is... Nicaise." 

Jord's shoulders slumped, and even Damen understood with this additional knowledge that Laurent wasn't leaving without him. 

"What do you want to do?" Jord asked, gently this time.

"I can't go in there. I know that," Laurent said again, frustrated. "I need..." his eyes wandered over to Damen, and Damen felt his chest swell with pride at being what Laurent needed. "You are dressed nobly, and Govart does not know you well enough by face to see through your disguise," he explained, speaking directly to Damen. "Can you get Nicaise out of there?" 

Laurent was looking so imploringly at Damen, that Damen couldn't have denied him anything. Not that this was something he would have denied him anyway, but knowing it meant so much to Laurent would have compelled him to do just about anything. 

"Of course," Damen assured him, hoping his earnestness to do what Laurent needed bled through. "What do I need to know?"

Laurent visibly relaxed and Damen preened with having had that effect on him. 

"I have to stay out of sight, so I will be down that corridor there in the Madame's office," he pointed. "The Madame will point both Nicaise and Govart out to you. Get Nicaise away from him and get him to follow you to me. Damen," he said, as serious as Damen had ever seen him, "Govart is dangerous. He works for my uncle and he is the one to carry out the more... unseemly tasks. Please be careful, and make sure he doesn't know who you are."

Damen nodded, showing Laurent he understood the gravity of the situation. "I will," he promised, and gave Laurent a chaste kiss on the mouth to punctuate it. 

Laurent blushed, making Damen's blood sing, and then he turned down the hallway, followed by Jord. The Madame had her eyebrows raised at Damen when he went over to her, but dutifully pointed out both Govart and Nicaise in the next room. The visiting room.

Damen spotted Nicaise at once. He looked just as Damen expected him to. An older version of the boy he once knew, probably around fifteen now, dressed in flimsy silks with jewels in his hair and sapphires dripping from his ears. 

Govart was sitting adjacent to him, and looked as brutal as Laurent described him. He was almost as tall as Damen himself, and even more broad. He was mostly bald, with beady eyes and a nose that looked like it had been broken at least six times. He consequently breathed out of his mouth, and even from a distance, Damen could tell his breath probably stunk because of it.

As Damen entered and slowly approached them, he saw the reality of the situation. Nicaise was sitting in a high position in the middle of a group, entertaining the lot of them, but Govart was clearly his target. He was trying to attract Govart. 

"Yes," Nicaise nodded to his captivated audience, "I had a contract with the King's uncle when I was younger. His prick always liked children because it wasn't big enough for anything grown."

The group tittered, enamored with the crass youth, and Govart sneered.

"I don't think it even hit my molars," Nicaise went on to more laughter, "He probably could've masturbated through the tines of a fork." 

More laughter and a few completely unnecessary rude gestures. 

"But I was able to leave, because he never held up his side of the contract. I was always unpaid and unsatisfied because he could never rise to the occasion even if I gave him a ladder." Nicaise scoffed and received his wanted sympathy. He capitalized on it. "Can't anybody satisfy me?" he asked, swaying towards Govart and blinking big blue eyes up at him. 

Damen couldn't listen to any more. He cleared his throat over the propositions flying at Nicaise from every direction. 

It worked to get Nicaise's attention, and the boy wasn't able to completely hide his surprise when he turned in Damen's direction, eyes widening slightly. He had recognized him then.

"You think you're up to the task, big man?" Nicaise purred, recovering the best way he could. Govart had turned to take in the new competition, and Damen knew they had to get out of there sooner rather than later.

"Not me!" Damen hurried to say so Nicaise didn't feel like he had to continue in character with him. He tried to calm his voice to not sound so urgent or nervous when Nicaise raised an eyebrow. "But my client requested you specifically," he said pointedly. There. That should get the message across.

Interest piqued, Nicaise sighed dramatically for his crowd. "I'm not supposed to turn down visiting royalty," he said, seemingly resigned. "But Patras always sends so many princes." He gracefully unfolded himself from his perch, and landed next to Damen. Damen was taken aback by how small he still was when put right next to him. "Alas, duty calls," he sighed to the crowd, as he took Damen's arm. "Shall we?" he asked when Damen didn't move. 

Damen grunted something that wasn't quite a word, but nodded and started leading Nicaise in Laurent's direction.

"You're bad at this," Nicaise observed quietly, and Damen just let out a desperate noise that hopefully expressed his desire for Nicaise to stop speaking to him until they were out of the visiting room.

But of course, Nicaise didn't hear it that way. "Let me guess," he muttered, quieter still, "your client is Stéphane?"

Damen was so surprised, he let out another startled noise. "Has he done this before?"

Nicaise gave him a look. "This isn't the first time he has come to see me in character, no." He paused before adding, "first time he has found me working the floor, however." He sounded almost uneasy, if Nicaise could ever let himself sound uneasy, and Damen could only guess what reaction he was expecting from Laurent.

He didn't have to wait long before he saw for himself. When they entered the Madame's office together, Laurent's face was open with concern. Nicaise saw it and immediately scoffed. He dropped Damen's arm to saunter over and drape himself seductively over Laurent, throwing his arms around Laurent's neck and plastering his body to his front. "Hello, lover."

Damen flinched away from the display, but Laurent didn't react anywhere near as violently. He gently removed Nicaise's hands from around himself, but kept them in his own, holding them up in front of himself and in between them, separating their bodies. He had put them in a much more appropriate position without ever making it look like a rejection. Laurent was so careful with Nicaise, it made Damen almost want to cry.

"What are you doing here?" Laurent asked Nicaise just as gently as he held his hands.

Nicaise scoffed again, clearly annoyed at Laurent's gentleness. "Working. Obviously."

Laurent's face hardened. "You are most certainly not."

"I am fifteen," Nicaise spat back, definitely sounding fifteen. "That's the legal age in Vere. So if any of these dirty old guys want to get it, they are welcome to." 

Laurent looked at the Madame. "Absolutely not," he repeated to her this time.

"He is not," she confirmed. "Just gossiping. He heard of your plan, and just wants to help. He can speak about your uncle in a way others cannot to a group of people the rest of us cannot access the same way."

Laurent made another noise of complaint, but the Madame continued over him.

"Though he is fifteen. And if he truly wanted to work here, he could. Do not give me that look. If you want us to keep the same clientele we currently attract, we need to offer what attracts them in the first place."

Laurent grimaced. "We will talk about this later," he told her sternly, and she rolled her eyes back at him. Damen couldn't imagine a similar exchange happening with him as crown prince in Akielos. The audacity of the average citizen in Vere was something he had never gotten used to, but Laurent had already turned to face Nicaise once more.

"Your plan is stupid anyway," Nicaise said, finally releasing Laurent's hands, and before Laurent could scold him again. "Words are cheap, and gossip changes with the wind. It will take him two weeks to turn the tide back in his favor. I am working to get you the information you actually need."

"Is that why you were engaging with Govart?" Laurent asked incredulously. "Nicaise, you know how dangerous he is. You've probably seen it yourself!"

Nicaise shrugged, and Damen was vindicated to see even Laurent's eye twitch at the motion this time. "You said it yourself," Nicaise explained, "that neanderthal must have something on your uncle. He has the intelligence of a brick, and a face to match, and yet your uncle promotes him to captain? He knows something."

Laurent looked like he regretted speaking of that within Nicaise's hearing, but he still spoke gently. "That is not for you to worry about. I was only speculating."

Damen knew better than anyone that Laurent's 'speculations' were almost always correct.

"Well," Nicaise said. "Your speculation. My confirmation."

"I don't need you to -"

"What's the giant animal doing here anyway?" Nicaise asked, gesturing at Damen, signalling he was finished with the conversation topic. "I thought you were getting married."

Damen hadn't expected to be acknowledged in this conversation, and he was caught off guard enough to genuinely be interested in Laurent's answer. 

His heart was battered back down a moment later when Laurent's face shuttered, and he answered in a hard voice, "I am."

Nicaise hummed thoughtfully, watching Damen's face with interest. Damen tried not to give any of his feelings on the matter away.

He was saved by the Madame.

"Forgive me for interrupting, your highness," she spoke up. "But you really must be going. There is not much more either of you can do tonight except risk exposure on all of us." She glared at Nicaise when he attempted a protest. 

Laurent sighed. The Madame was right. Whatever plan they had for the night was over before it began. It was safer to leave the establishment in peace. 

"You're right," he said, "we'll clear out." He turned again to Nicaise, clearly not knowing how to say goodbye. "I'll be back soon. And maybe, after my uncle is finally gone -"

But Nicaise had already closed himself off when Laurent had started saying goodbye. "I'd rather not talk about things that may or may not still happen," he interrupted stiffly.

So the eternally irreverent Nicaise could be superstitious, Damen realized. Maybe there were things he cared about after all, though Damen had always suspected Laurent was one of those things.

Laurent nodded, also stiff now, and finished his goodbyes. They rejoined their small contingent of guards in the anteroom, who all looked more than ready to go. Even Lazar was listlessly leaning against the wall. Damen couldn't blame them. It had been a long night, and they still had the ride back to the palace.

They made their way out of the village quickly and silently, all lost to their own thoughts or exhaustion. Surprisingly, the first one to break the stillness was Jord, when they got within sight of their horses. 

"Thank fuck," he muttered. 

Laurent raised an eyebrow at him, curious at the uncharacteristic break in professionalism. 

Jord gave him an apologetic look back. "Honestly, with how this night has gone, I expected the horses to be stolen."

Laurent laughed, but it was obvious his heart wasn't in it. They were all tired, and a little shook after the brawl and abandoned brothel visit. They mounted their horses, and started the way back in similar silence. 

Soon, though, circling thoughts got the better of Damen, and he pulled his horse close to Laurent's so he could speak lowly to him. It wasn't exactly private, given the still night, and their still relatively close companions, but it gave the illusion of it, and that was enough for Damen for now.

"You were surprised to see Nicaise," he observed, leaving Laurent the opportunity to expand if he wanted to.

Laurent's exhaustion was apparent when he let his eyes slip closed for a second. Damen wondered if this topic was off limits to him when Laurent didn't respond right away, but when Laurent opened his eyes back up to watch the trail, he answered. 

"Not entirely."

Damen waited, letting Laurent fill in his own silence, which he eventually did.

"That particular brothel is under my patronage." Damen had assumed as much, but was gratified to have the confirmation. "They attract many of my uncle's circle, and it is useful to have an ear on the ground. You know already that I try to find positions for some of the children my uncle, my family, has hurt and then sponsor their apprenticeships." Damen nodded. "Nicaise was a particularly... tough case." Damen snorted at the understatement, and Laurent grinned. "Yes, I'm sure you can imagine," he said fondly before he sobered again. "Anyway, he told me many times that he only knew how to do one thing. That he was only good for one thing. And at the time... nothing would have changed his mind."

Damen grimaced at the implication. The brainwashing that a bright kid like Nicaise would have had to endure to believe that was staggering. 

"So I took him to Odette, the Madame," Laurent continued guiltily, like it was some fault of his that Nicaise was safe and cared for. "She housed him and put him to work being her assistant. It was mostly cleaning and managing her affairs, and just being a general tyrant, as far as I could tell. They love him there, and indulge him too much, I'm sure. And part of the deal was that he would go to school so he learned how to do other things as well. He was not supposed to be working a service role there." 

Laurent lapsed into silence again after his explanation, most likely ruminating over every decision he had ever made. Damen thought about Nicaise's situation, thinking that it really did seem to be a good fit for him, despite Laurent's reservations. Just as the bakery had been a good fit for Alois. 

"What were you asking him about, 'after your uncle was gone?'" Damen asked, pulling Laurent out of his thoughts again.

Laurent sighed again, and looked up at the night sky this time, embarrassed to be caught out. 

"When my uncle is permanently removed from this life," he started harshly, and Damen already liked the sound of this future, "I thought I'd offer all the boys a place at the palace. Only if they wanted, of course, I know they are busy setting up their own lives," he added hurriedly, and Damen was charmed by how nervous Laurent was talking about his dreams for the future. Like he was such a poor prospect to be in these boys' lives. That he thought they would be too busy to give him a second thought. "They could continue their schooling with the best tutors, and have the same opportunities as the noble children," Laurent continued, clearly believing in his vision. "And they'd have... support. Knowledge that they're not - alone. There's strength in numbers," he finished quietly, like he thought it was a silly dream. 

Damen couldn't think of anything less silly. He could see Laurent's vision clearly, and Laurent at the center of it. He knew how important it was to Laurent to give back to those he felt he, or his family, had wronged, however indirectly. But what he was offering these boys was a family. 

Damen suddenly had a visceral feeling of wanting. Wanting to be part of it. To bring safety and shelter to these souls that Laurent had collected. He could spend his whole life doing what felt right to him and Laurent.

Damen had always had a purpose. He was born to one. But Laurent found purpose in every corner of his life. If his duty as crown prince of Akielos was his head's purpose. Laurent filled his heart with purpose he could achieve every day. His whole life felt more full and important just from knowing Laurent.

They were quiet again as they reached the stables, going through the process of untacking the horses, and shedding their disguises. Damen noticed Laurent seemed more troubled than tired now, so he stuck close to him waiting for a chance to broach it.

Pallas and Lazar stumbled off to the palace after a glance in their direction as soon as their horses were put away. Lydos left too, after a simple nod from Damen.

Only Jord hovered, unwilling to leave Laurent until he saw him safely to the very end of their journey.

"You can go, Jord," Laurent said when he noticed this. "I can make it from here."

Jord looked torn, like he understood the indirect order there, but wasn't thrilled about following it.

"King Auguste expects me to see you all the way to your room."

"Just have the next shift posted there, and get some sleep. I will follow shortly."

"I think -" Jord started before stopping, suddenly realizing he was about to argue with his charge.

Laurent noticed with a wry smile. "You do work for me, you know."

Jord returned his smile with a rueful one. "King Auguste will execute me if anything happens to you."

"No he won't," Laurent promised, though he added after a moment of thought, "he will probably exile you, though." 

Jord snorted fondly, resigned. He looked at Damen seriously. "Take care of him."

"Always," Damen vowed, taking Laurent's hand.

When Jord finally left them alone, Damen tugged on that hand, and brought them to the bench meant for putting on riding boots. He sat down and kept tugging lightly until Laurent smirked and obliged, straddling Damen's lap with a knee on either side, settling his weight on Damen's thighs.

Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent's waist, letting his forehead fall to Laurent's shoulder, and sighed in relief at the feeling.

Laurent wrapped his arms around Damen's shoulders, one massaging his upper back, the other scratching his scalp lightly. It felt good after having that awful wig on all night. Damen could've fallen asleep like that. He felt Laurent's chin nudge his head to place a kiss on his temple. He loved this man so much.

With that in mind, he finally lifted his head, and checked back in with him, "what is troubling you?"

Laurent looked surprised at the question at first, but Damen thought tiredness won out over any evasion plan, and his face settled into honesty.

"I do not like how many other people are risking their lives or livelihoods for this plan."

Damen looked at him seriously. "They do it of their own volition, Laurent. You have not ordered anyone to be a part of this. And many of those people have their own reasons for wanting to see his downfall that have nothing to do with you in the first place. You are giving them hope."

Laurent shook his head. "Nicaise was right. Embarrassed and friendless is not defeated. Without any real evidence, he won't be beat."

Damen held him tighter. "We are breaking down his armor of corruption and influence. Making him vulnerable to a fair trial."

Laurent's eyebrows scrunched up at the middle. "I hate that petty insults are getting to him, but spreading his true crimes would do nothing to influence those that stand by him."

Damen, with all of his bred-in sense of Akielon honor, understood that sentiment completely. While he sometimes saw Laurent as the quintessential Veretian, sometimes he thought his heart leaned more Akielon. Or maybe Damen was more Veretian than he'd like to admit. All he knew was that as different as they seemed to be on the outside, he and Laurent shared all of their core values that made up who they truly were.

"The petty stuff is rattling him, and losing him allies, yes. But it just opens the door for a trial where his true crimes will be his downfall. He will be found the monster he is in the end," he promised Laurent, willing it into existence.

Laurent leaned his forehead against Damen's. "I want to believe you."

Damen rubbed their noses together. "You don't have to. You're making it happen yourself."

Laurent tipped Damen's head back, and captured his mouth in a kiss that was desperate for closeness and understanding. 

Damen responded immediately, leaning back to give Laurent the access he needed, hands falling to Laurent's arse to pull them close together. 

Laurent's hands were at his neck, in his hair, scratching down his back, squeezing his side and raking up his chest. His tongue was pillaging Damen's mouth as Damen's curled around it. He couldn't seem to settle in any one place, and when his hips started rocking against Damen's, Damen tried to steady his rhythm, using his hands to guide him.

"Damen, can we -?" Laurent gasped against his mouth.

"Anything," Damen replied instantly. "Anything you need, sweetheart. Just tell me what you need."

"Touch me," Laurent begged. "Us. Please."

"Yes," Damen breathed. "Laurent, yes."

Damen abandoned rocking Laurent's hips to bring both hands to the laces at the front of his trousers. He could feel Laurent's erection, and his own responding. 

He got Laurent's laces undone in record time, and breathed out heavily when he got his hand around him. Laurent was hot and slick with precum already, and Damen squeezed in appreciation, making Laurent groan quietly.  

Damen desperately wanted to lean down and taste him, but Laurent still had his head in a vice grip, keeping them in close contact, wet breaths moistening each other's necks. 

Damen gathered some of the moisture still leaking from Laurent's tip, and starting stroking him in long, firm movements. 

Laurent let out a stuttered breath, and placed a kiss on Damen's neck before biting his earlobe. He spoke directly in Damen's ear. 

"You too, Damen, please. Touch us together. I want to feel you against me."

Damen's breath hitched, unable to make a single noise, and he had to release Laurent in order to undo his own laces. He briefly mourned the absence of Laurent's skin on his, since they were both mostly dressed still, him even more than usual, but with his nose still buried in Laurent's neck, and Laurent's mouth at his ear, his senses were still all full of Laurent. 

Finally freed, his cock snapped up to meet Laurent's. His sweat mingled with Laurent's precum as he wrapped his hand around them both. In this position, Laurent's cock stood taller than his, but not by much. Damen watched, entranced, as his cock strained up to meet Laurent's, forehead on Laurent's shoulder again.

As he started to pump them both together, he switched between laying kisses and licks up Laurent's neck, across his pulse point, and watching the sight of them getting off together. His other hand slipped back around Laurent, and into his loosened trousers to grip his glutes and encourage him to continue rocking into him. 

Laurent had his arms wrapped tightly around Damen's shoulders, panting directly into his ear, rewarding Damen with all of the small sounds he pulled out of him. Laurent was so all-consuming around him, it felt like he was trying to inhabit a place in Damen's chest. He was already living there. He would bite the shell of Damen's ear every time Damen's tug pulled on him particularly hard, and Damen would respond with a coordinating squeeze of his cheek. 

Lost to their mutual pleasure, Damen shifted his hand on Laurent's arse so his fingers were skimming the crease. Encouraged by Laurent's change of breathing at his ear, he gently probed until his dry finger brushed against Laurent's hole, which flexed in response. Groaning, Damen's finger pressed against the ring of muscle, until Laurent was tensing all over, Damen's only warning before Laurent was unexpectedly coming, Damen just having time to move his stroking hand to catch the load. 

Damen rubbed tiny circles over Laurent's hole through his orgasm, then gathered the spill in his hand to spread it over both their cocks again as he chased his own pleasure against Laurent's over sensitive and softening member.

A few pumps of his hips to match his stroking hand were all it took for Damen to follow after Laurent, using his other hand to catch his load this time, and groaning into Laurents neck. 

They stayed like that for a few seconds longer, Damen cradling both their loads against their softening cocks, and Laurent cupping Damen's cheeks to kiss him through the come down. 

When they finally separated, Damen held up his hands, looking for a place to wipe them.

"Not on the costumes!" Laurent insisted.

"Okay, okay," Damen grinned, wiping them on the pile of hay beside them. "But if a beanstalk grows there tomorrow, you know who to blame."

Laurent rolled his eyes, but still chuckled at the stupid joke. "The one with the giant seed, got it."

Damen pressed their smiles together until they were kissing again.

"Are you feeling okay?" he couldn't help but ask. He himself was feeling fully sated and warm all over. 

"Yes," Laurent said quietly, contentedly. "I always do with you."

Damen's chest expanded at the admission. He felt ten feet tall.

"Come on," he finally said, breaking their kiss, "I'm exhausted. Let's go to bed."

Agreeing, Laurent stood, and held Damen's hand all the way from the stables, across the grounds, and through the palace, before he separated himself at the turn to his wing, and bid Damen good night.

Chapter Text

Standing on the palace steps with the Veretian royals and other foreign ambassadors, Damen ran through his proposals in his head while he waited for the other delegations to arrive. The four nation summit was to begin tomorrow, and he needed to be sharp for it.

He wasn't necessarily required for the welcome party as a guest himself, but with talks looming, it seemed like the best foot forward to humbly greet the leaders of the other nations. 

The herald had informed them that the other parties were all arriving at roughly the same time, so a crowd of nobles and servants had gathered to see the spectacle for themselves. 

Vask was arriving first, so when the horn sounded in warning, Alaia took her position on Auguste's right since she was currently doubling as Vask's ambassador to Vere. Laurent was on Auguste's left and his uncle was next in line.

Damen was a step behind, being only an honored guest, and he itched to step between the men before him and claim the spot next to Laurent as his own. He saw Laurent's left hand twitch with nerves at his side, and he longed to clasp it in his own and be presented that way to the arriving delegations. 

The horn sounded once more as the gates opened, and the Vaskian delegation filled the courtyard on horseback. There must have been over one hundred travelers atop their famous mustangs, which Damen supposed made sense for the secondary hosts for the upcoming wedding. 

Damen recognized Empress Vishkar as she dismounted at the front of the pack, her size and the sheer number of attendants flanking her mare giving her away. She had on animal hide riding leathers, and a short but bulky fur cape to cover her shoulders. Damen wouldn't be surprised if the get up doubled as armor. 

Damen had met Vishkar a few times in the past for diplomatic talks, and again on his own tour of Vask when he was still a teenager. She was always impressive, but like this, at the front of her horde, she looked ten feet tall and invincible. Captivated by her presence, Damen tried not to stare as she nodded to four of her attendants to follow her, and made her way to the stairs. Casting his eyes aside, he saw that one of the attendants was carrying a swaddle of blankets.

For a wild moment, Damen thought the empress was gifting the happy couple with a beautiful baby.

But that was ridiculous. Why would Laurent and Alaia need a surrogate to have children? It was Damen and Laurent that would need - Damen shut that train of thought down before his head filled with images of blue eyed babies with dark curls.

Luckily, Empress Vishkar was already ascending the steps and reclaimed Damen's attention. In a slight divergence from protocol, she addressed Alaia first. Damen remembered Auguste telling him that Vishkar had a fondness for the girl.

"Alaia, sister. You look - stiff." 

Alaia laughed, but held up her arms to better show the dress that Vishkar was eyeing distastefully. 

"It took a certain dedication to breathing exercises to get used to," she admitted, indicating the Veretian fashion, "but we added this stretchy fabric to allow for more movement. Look! I can lift my arms above my shoulders now." She lifted her arms further to show off the block of stretchy fabric that was sewn under her arms and around all of her joints to allow for freer movement. 

"Impressive," Vishkar said, clearly lying.

"It was Prince Laurent's idea," Alaia said proudly, lifting her arms again in a defensive warrior pose. Auguste and Laurent looked on at the exchange fondly.

Vishkar glanced briefly at Laurent before returning her attention to Alaia. "Needlessly complicated, but useful. No doubt designed by a Veretian."

Damen could see Laurent's amused smile at the jibe, as well as his uncle's offended frown.

Vishkar finally greeted Auguste after that, who was unperturbed by the wait, and warmly welcomed her as king. His easy charm was on full display, and Damen suddenly remembered his own cold reception from Auguste all those weeks ago. He frowned to himself before schooling his features back to a polite smile before anyone noticed anything different. Vishkar nodded down the line as Auguste introduced the rest of his non-Damen-including family. Damen admirably maintained his smile throughout.

Formalities satisfied, the empress turned to grab the bundle of cloth from her attendant. She presented it proudly to Alaia. 

"An early wedding present."

Alaia looked intrigued, and stepped closer. Auguste frowned at the suddenly shifting fabric, regarding it distrustfully. Everyone else did their best to try and manage a peek while remaining rooted to their spots. A gift from the empress was rare indeed. A public one, unheard of.

Empress Vishkar spoke loudly enough to be heard by those gathered close to the spectacle. "A daughter of the empire should be protected wherever she goes."

Alaia glanced uncertainly at the guard who stood behind her, but the empress scoffed. 

"Not by men, who are fickle and slow. A daughter should have a companion to travel alongside her as she seeks her tomorrow, as she ventures to the ends of her fortune," she paused, "especially into snake pits."

Auguste frowned harder at the less than complementary judgement, as did his uncle. But Laurent could not hide his amusement this time. Perhaps he agreed with the empress' assessment. Damen sure did at the moment.

Preamble done, Vishkar shifted the blankets to uncover her burden. A little leopard cub poked her head out of the confinement to sniff at her new environment. 

Damen heard gasps from all around him from those that could see the new addition. But Alaia was not loud or anxious. She looked at the little cub with awe that was probably lost on the tiny killing machine. She slowly stepped forward, and held out her hand to let the cub catch her scent. She let out a soft breath of laughter as the cub batted it playfully. Seemingly approving of their game, the cub settled back in to her blankets, and Alaia dared to lay her hand on top of the cub's head. 

When the cub nuzzled into it, she let out a disbelieving breath, completely taken with the little creature. Damen tore his eyes away from the scene to steal a glance back at Laurent while everyone was looking elsewhere. Laurent's eyes were glued, entranced by the whole exchange.

Maybe Damen should get a lion cub for him.

Where does one even find a lion cub? Or a leopard cub for that matter? Surely the mothers do not like their young being taken from them.

Damen knew that Empress Vishkar had two leopardesses of her own. Guardians as wild as their owner, that enjoyed feasting on the flesh of her enemies. Perhaps this was one of their cubs. Did Vask have a leopard breeding program?

Feeling himself spiralling again, Damen grounded himself by refocusing on Laurent's face, which was still enamored with the suddenly sleepy cub. Well, that was decided then. He would find him a lion cub.

Alaia retook his attention as she glanced up at the empress, seeking permission. Vishkar nodded at her, smiling more warmly than Damen had ever seen her before. 

Alaia then lifted the cub out of the blankets and held her to her chest. The cub had the attention of the entire gathering, but didn't seem to notice or care as she nuzzled into Alaia's chest and fell back asleep. Alaia cradled her protectively as she stepped back in line with Auguste.

Satisfied, Empress Vishkar relieved herself once again of the bundle of blankets, and continued to move down the line, stopping before Laurent.

"The pretty husband," she said bluntly and critically. "Keep our sister happy. Or we will take her back, and any children she may be gifted to bear."

It was a clear threat, but Laurent just nodded solemnly. "I will," he promised. Damen's heart squeezed.

Vishkar assessed him, but seemed satisfied with his sincerity. After a pause, she added in a lighter tone, "I guess you will not take part in our celebration of union after the ceremony?"

Laurent bit down on a smirk, as he met her eyes head on. "I am afraid not. Vere values monogamy in marriage."

"Hm," Vishkar huffed, looking back again at Auguste, who blushed. "Shame." 

She made to move on, completely ignoring Laurent's uncle to his obvious displeasure and Damen's internal delight, but her eyes snagged on Damen as she passed, noticing and recognizing him for the first time, and she paused.

"You are welcome at the fires too, Akielon prince," she said, not waiting for an answer before she waved her attendants forward, and they all swept into the castle's hall. Veretian servants scrambled to keep up, so they could escort them to the right rooms, while a wealth of others tried to wrangle the semi wild horses making a home for themselves in the courtyard, and seemingly uninterested in being wrangled now that they had delivered their riders. 

This reception finally done, Laurent turned to raise his eyebrows at Damen, then broke from the line to huddle Alaia and the cub. Damen, a step behind the family, remained still. It was going to be a long day.

--

An hour later they were reconvening for Patras to arrive. The Patracian ambassador to Vere was stationed next to Auguste this time, Alaia and a sleeping leopard cub next to Laurent. 

The set up pushed the uncle one more place down the line, and the symbolism of it all clearly soured his mood.

But Damen wasn't paying close attention to the uncle at the moment. Laurent had spent a good bit of the break cooing over the cat, and Damen was already halfway through formulating his plan to steal a cub from a lioness.

Everyone refocused on diplomacy, however, when King Torgier and Prince Torveld ascended the steps.

King Torgier greeted Auguste as Torveld greeted their ambassador, and they all exchanged a bit of small talk. The reception was again warm, everyone feeling the celebratory atmosphere of a wedding Damen wasn't thinking about and open to a productive summit.

Torgier moved amicably, but quickly down the line, congratulating Laurent and Alaia with a curious glance at the leopard cub, and mollifying the uncle with respect born from years of working with one another.

Torveld followed his brother, and Damen saw his eyes light up when he set them on Laurent. Damen felt a surge of possessiveness before he cooled it by reminding himself that they were all here for Laurent's wedding to someone else entirely. He consciously lowered his hackles.

He watched Torveld speak to Laurent with a self-deprecating half smile that Laurent returned with an understanding smile of his own that spoke of a history that Damen absolutely did not care to know about.

Damen had been away for so long. When was the last time Torveld had been in Vere? Was he a frequent correspondent of Laurent's like Nikandros? Probably, they were both brothers to kings. Was it all politics, or did they sprinkle personal affections into the pages? Was Torveld surprised to hear of Laurent's engagement? He was turning a kind smile on Alaia now, and including her in the conversation. He even paused to admire the sleeping cub in her arms. Damen, still a couple steps back, felt further away than ever.

Torgier had stopped to talk to Damen about his last correspondence with Damen's father, making it impossible for Damen to continue scrutinizing the conversation before him. Damen gladly accepted the distraction.

But Torgier was tired from the journey, and he moved his group along quickly. Torveld still managed to stop in front of Damen to shake his hand and slap him on the shoulder exchanging an easy smile. 

Dammit. Damen always forgot that he actually liked Torveld. If it wasn't for his obvious and continued interest in Laurent, who was much too young for him, Damen thought they would be good friends. He returned Torveld's sentiments easily in the end, and watched them disappear inside, trying to untangle his thoughts. 

--

Only Akielos was left to arrive, and with Damen already here, it was not much of an event. But since they were already at the gates, some nobles hung around thinking maybe the old 'warmongering king' or the terrifying 'bastard prince' would show. Damen already knew they weren't coming. He was representing Akielos for this trip. And listening to the nobles gossip around him, he couldn't blame his dad or brother for declining. Standing here was certainly a reminder of the average citizen of Vere's continued hostility towards Akielos, and Damen's family in particular.

Damen wondered with some amusement what they had said about him as he stormed up the steps on his arrival, angry and worn from a desperate ride. He imagined he created a few people's archetypal visions of the Akielon barbarian that day.

He wondered how many of them would happily make the trip to Akielos to see their crown prince wed to that barbarian if Damen got his way. There were probably at least a few thrill seekers in the bunch.

He didn't care much. It was probably better, in some ways, to strike fear in Vere. There was only one Veretian whose opinion mattered to him anyway.

Nikandros had joined him at the first horn, and they took their places among the primary receiving line this time, to Auguste's right.

"King Torgier told me they rode the last leg with Makedon and his group," Nik muttered to Damen now. "He offered to go in together, but Makedon told him he had his own thing planned."

Damen was cut off from answering by the second horn sounding.

The Akielons streamed through the gate in military formation with banners on display and drums beating in time with the horses. They ran through a couple maneuvers, splitting into different directions, and coming back together to show off their command of their steeds. 

The crowd that remained for the Akielon reception were shocked at the unexpected display at first, but were clearly enjoying the showmanship of it.

Auguste raised his eyebrows and glanced in Damen's direction. Damen looked to Nik who just shrugged. 

"Makedon loves showing off. Sometimes I think he actually misses wartime because it's been so long since he could plan good military parade. Really, I'm more surprised because this is supposedly a contingent of nobles that he's whipped into military shape for this."

This drew a chuckle out of both Damen and Auguste, and sure enough, Makedon finished his entrance by rearing his stallion, which was much too large to be an actual warhorse, onto its hind legs and swinging down flashily.

He waved off the Veretian stablehand that tried to take the reins from him, and instead gave them to another Akielon, who dismounted beside him. 

This earned an eyeroll from Auguste, but no more as Makedon was already striding up the stairs.

"Is he supposed to be reminding us what it looks like to be invaded by barbarians?" Damen heard the uncle mutter from his spot, loud enough to carry. Auguste ignored him as he greeted the approaching general.

"General Makedon, we are pleased to welcome you again to Vere."

Makedon smiled jovially, as he reached to shake Auguste's hand. "King Auguste. Pleased to be here. Sorry about your father, son, I don't think I ever got to give you my condolences after he passed. He was a strong man, but in my estimation, you will make a good king for his line."

Taken off guard by the sentimentality, Auguste could only mumble a small, "thank you, sir" before Makedon turned to Damen and Nikandros.

"Exalted. Kyros," he greeted them, shaking their hands in turn with a wink.

"General Makedon," Damen returned, smiling despite himself. "Quite a show you put on."

"How long did you spend training nobles before you started your trip?" Nik asked dryly.

Makedon waved his hand in the air as if batting the pesky nobles away. "The carriage riders are still outside the gate," he said dismissively. "These are all my trained soldiers. I had to show Prince Laurent how his squadron has been faring in his absence."

With that, he turned away and pointed his wide grin at Laurent before Nik or Damen could respond to the fact that he had left  nobles outside the gate for the royal reception in favor of his common soldiers.

"Well?" he asked Laurent pointedly. "Do they pass your inspection, your highness?"

Laurent was grinning back, as wide as Damen had ever seen at an official function. It was probably a shock for the gathered Veretian court to see. "They look very well, as I'm sure you are aware," he responded gamely, "but certainly more flashy than functional, I'd say."

Makedon barked a laugh, making a noble behind Damen flinch at the loudness of it.

"I thought you'd like that, my boy," Makedon went on. "And how is your training going? Keeping up with it?" He nodded his head to the side at Auguste. "Putting your brother here in the dirt more often now that he is a king who spends his time behind desks?"

Another gasp behind Damen.

"You will have to see for yourself while you are here," Laurent replied, still grinning. 

"I plan to," Makedon grinned back at Auguste who just rolled his eyes again. "You can't let him go soft now. We'll set something up early morning, so the boys can watch too. They've been itching to see you spar again."

"I believe you are here for international relations, General," Laurent replied, laughter still in his eyes. "Most sparring should be happening off the sawdust."

"Negotiations are better managed on a battlefield with Vaskians," Makedon said seriously. "Simpler there. They know it too, and respect it." He looked around at Damen again who was silently begging him to stop there before he tried to fight someone. He turned back and shrugged. "But ah well, beggars can't be choosers. Come on, lads," he nodded at Damen and Nik to follow him. "Show me our rooms and we can plan our attack to speak these Vaskians into submission."

Damen valiantly refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and fell into step with Nik beside him.

"My lady," Makedon nodded to Alaia as he passed, as if he didn't just threaten her people publicly. "Nice cat."

Alaia worked her jaw as she nodded back to him, but didn't say anything in return as he stopped to admire the sleeping leopard cub she held in one arm.

Laurent squeezed her hand in appreciation of her restraint facing the general. Makedon tracked the movement and raised his eyebrows at Damen, but allowed himself to be led away before he could announce any more opinions to the gathered public. 

They passed some Veretians who 'whispered' their astonishment that the barbarians were allowed to prowl the palace unchecked.

"The average Veretian still a dickhead then?" Makedon asked Damen at normal volume, not caring who heard him.

"Pretty much," Damen replied quieter, remembering the whispers about his family. "You still seem to like Prince Laurent enough though."

"Of course I like Prince Laurent!" Makedon exclaimed, indignant at the thought otherwise. "His brother is alright too, but the prince is one of my own. I still can't believe you let that one go, Exalted. He would've made a good Akielon. And we could've used his mind for strategy on our side."

"I didn't -" Damen started before deciding he was not going to discuss his love life with his general. "He is still on our side. That is what an ally is."

Makedon scoffed. "His loyalty will be split at best. Vask will come before Akielos."

"I think his first loyalty will be to Vere, and his brother," Nik pointed out.

Makedon sighed. "I suppose. What a shame. Seems a waste of a good military mind. In another life, eh, Exalted?" Makedon clapped a hand on Damen's stiff shoulder. 

"I think his mind is perfectly suited to Vere," Nik grumbled, but Makedon paid him no mind.

"Speaking of brothers," he started, speaking quieter this time. "You need to keep yours in check, son. He's overstepping his bounds and some of the old guard like myself don't like his tone in his recent letters."

Damen sighed, having heard this from Nikandros already.

"Let's just focus on this resolution with Vask first," he said, tiredly, "and I can focus on Ios when I return." It was a nonanswer, but the only one he could give just then.

He hadn't been able to give any thought to the warnings he had been receiving more and more frequently regarding what he would return to at his own court. He still thought it had to have been overblown to some degree, just old generals being irked by a change of pace, but the consistent warnings warranted examination at least.

But he was in the middle of something here, and he could not leave until he saw it through. 

"Your father also sends his apologies, as he will not make it to join you for the festivities," Makedon said carefully, like he was gauging Damen's reaction to the referenced festivities. Damen sidestepped the probe in favor of answering the simple statement.

"I did not expect him to come. He still does not like being in the heart of Vere. It brings back too many violent memories for him, I think."

Damen didn't blame his father. Akielos and Vere had been fighting for Theomedes’ whole life before the resolution drawn up just a decade ago. The fact that his father entertained the idea of a Veretian match for Damen was astounding.

Makedon grunted. "I understand the sentiment," he replied, and Damen supposed he would, being more of an age with Damen's father than with Damen himself. "But you don't mind being in the hearts of Vere, do you, son? Or at least one."

Damen caught the turn of phrase, but hummed noncommittally instead of acknowledging it.

Nikandros and Makedon were both looking at him too carefully, and Damen hated the scrutiny. He forced himself to keep his head high and eyes forward until they reached the wing where the Akielons were staying.

It was going to be a long day. And there was a welcome feast celebrating the beginning of the four nation summit waiting at the end of it.

--

The feast was not fun.

First of all, it felt more like a wedding event than a summit event, with Laurent and Alaia seated in the position of honored guests, and a seemingly neverending parade of well wishers itching to impart words of wisdom, congratulations, and gods awful toasts to the happy couple.

Meanwhile, Laurent's uncle kept winding Makedon up, egging him on to recount battle stories that heavily featured Vask as the enemy, and Damen could feel Vishkar's irritation growing with every new anecdote. Makedon was all too happy to spin a tale on a normal night, and as the drinks kept flowing, his stories did too. Damen didn't know where Vishkar's leopards were being kept, but he was sure they would make an appearance by the end of the meal if Makedon didn't tone it down.

Or at the very least the empress would rescind her invitations to the coupling fires.

Tension between the Akielon and Vaskian parties was noticeably thick, and the air held an anticipatory edge that wasn't quite all good-natured. 

Countering the strained relations, Auguste had turned his charm all the way up in an attempt to get the four nations friendly with each other before the summit tomorrow.  

He asked Alaia about her new leopard cub, and she blushed prettily as she explained the name she had chosen, Soha, meaning both sun and princess. 

Auguste was successfully pulling people into his orbit, but Damen didn't think he would have quite been able to manage the celebratory atmosphere if it hadn't been for Laurent joining the charm offensive and turning his on as well.

Laurent's performance took all of Damen's attention. He was effortless as he turned the course of conversations and lit people up just by letting them bask in his glow. Damen was annoyed and entranced and bitter and engrossed all at once.

Laurent was beautiful in motion, and Damen couldn't look away. Couldn't stop noticing his smile. His alluring smile as he entertained Prince Torveld and others who hung off his every teasing word. His welcoming smile as he sat next to his fiancée and greeted Vask's many representatives, presenting to them a fruitful partnership. His genuine smile as he laughed with Makedon and greeted the many soldiers he knew from his time with him in Akielos.

Damen was overwhelmed by the time he watched Laurent's private smile he shared with a blushing Isander as he pulled him to the side to share a quiet word.

"He's beautiful like this, isn't he?"

Damen startled at the unexpected conversation, and turned to see Torveld following his line of vision. 

He bristled at the knowing smile Torveld was giving him, and he replied more aggressively than he meant. 

"He's always beautiful."

Luckily, Torveld laughed off Damen's brusqueness, keeping his good humor intact. 

"I didn't mean anything derogatory by that. I think the whole continent knows of Prince Laurent's beauty." Damen tried not to bite back again at the statement. It was just the truth, after all. "All I meant is that he doesn't often let others see this side of him."

That was also true, Damen could admit. But that wasn't the only hidden side of Laurent. Even less people had seen the vulnerable and wanting and tentative and hopeful sides of Laurent that Damen had been lucky enough to experience. 

Torveld correctly guessed the direction of his thoughts, and sent him what was supposed to be an understanding smile. 

"I always imagined it would be you or me, you know, when he decided to settle down. Or hoped it would be me, more accurately. I certainly hadn't guessed a daughter of the empire." He laughed like he and Damen were in on the same joke, experiencing the same heartbreak. "But he seems happy, doesn't he? And I guess this way he gets to stay in Vere."

Damen turned on Torveld with wide eyes. He barely contained a scoff at the man's audacity. Like he had experienced even a fraction of Damen's connection with Laurent. Like they stood on even footing here, like he knew Laurent the way Damen did. The mere fact that Torveld thought Laurent belonged in Vere showed what little he knew. 

Luckily for Damen - this was a diplomatic event after all - Auguste interrupted them before he could verbalize any of those thoughts to the well-intentioned man before him. 

"Prince Damianos! Torveld, do you mind if I take him away for a second? I need him for an introduction."

Torveld humbly acquiesced as Auguste swept an increasingly volatile Damen away from the situation. 

"I hope you are maintaining a sense of propriety if you are choosing to reminisce about my brother with Prince Torveld of all people," Auguste hissed at Damen as he steered him clear of any potential eavesdroppers. So much for an introduction.

Damen scoffed, irritation of hearing about all of his rivals for Laurent's affections finally winning out.

"Yes, Torveld of Patras, who is twice Laurent's age!"

"Yes, Torveld of Patras, who attempted to court Laurent properly,” Auguste returned.

Damen's arms flexed as he balled his fists. Damen had done right by Laurent, and he didn't like the implication that he didn't. Especially from Auguste, whose opinion he regarded so highly, who he saw as an ally and a friend, and who Laurent basically worshipped.

“Laurent didn't want to be courted properly," he snarled back. "He wanted someone true and honest with him. Without all the grandstanding. I tried it properly at the beginning, if you remember. With the gifts and chaperoned walks through the garden. It was Laurent who pulled me on the back of a horse and rode through the wilds with me. He was always more comfortable and more himself away from Vere's court and its pressures on him,” Damen added pointedly.

Now it was Auguste's turn to flinch, and his posture got just as rigid as Damen's. He always got defensive over the wish that he had protected Laurent from his experience at court. At least he had the foresight to pull them into an alcove to hide the fact that they were fighting in the middle of the summit kick off party.

“Yes, and I'm sure it was Laurent who pushed your courtship intimacy further than horseback rides and forest strolls,” Auguste lashed back.

Damen felt like he had been slapped. They were skirting dangerous topics here, and Damen and Laurent's road to opening each other up to their shared intimacy was a staunchly private one. The reasons why Laurent preferred to open up away from the palace would not have been lost on Auguste, but he didn't need the confirmation.

“You don't know your brother at all if you think he can be led down a road he does not want to go,” is all Damen could think to say.

“And here he is,” Auguste taunted, gesturing at the many flower arrangements and twinned fabric banners that demonstrated Laurent had chosen to marry someone else. Damen felt the betrayal burn brightly under his skin anew. 

He was feeling cut off at the knees already, watching Empress Vishkar parade around, handing out leopard cubs, inviting Damen to coupling fires, as if she hadn't been ignoring Damen's pleas for help for the past year. It made this wedding that much harder to bear, the betrayal growing from being just against his person to against his whole country. 

He shook his head at Auguste, not trusting himself to say anything more. 

Still, Auguste looked chastened. "Gods, I'm - I'm sorry. I don't even know - that was excessive. Of course I don't think you took advantage of him. I'm just - so wound up waiting for my uncle's next move. It feels like forever since the poisoning, and just - nothing more? It has to be any day now, right? But nothing. No sign that he's even sweating."

Damen thought of the conversation he overheard between Laurent and his uncle. He definitely thought he was sweating.

But to Auguste, he shrugged. "Maybe he's backing off while he deals with the rumors about him for a change."

"Yeah," Auguste said, unconvinced. "Maybe." Auguste paused to think it over, but then nodded back to the great hall, "I should head back."

"Yeah," Damen agreed, but he nodded in the other direction. He couldn't watch Laurent smile from across the room any more tonight. "I'm just going to..."

"Yeah," Auguste said again. "I get it. You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

Damen nodded, turning away.

"See you at the summit, Damen," Auguste called, and Damen felt a pang in his gut. 

How much of their futures would be spent 'seeing each other at the next four nation event'? How many times would he have to say good bye to the brothers of Vere, knowing he wouldn't see them again until the next official function. 

It was a thought that Damen didn't want to entertain, so he went to bed with a heavy heart. 

--

The next morning, Damen was crawling out of his own skin with anxiety. It was the morning of the summit, and he didn't know anything anymore. He had felt so close to Laurent only a week ago, but after last night, all of his insecurities had reasserted themselves, and he felt completely alone. 

He knew he had to fight for his people. That was the most important thing right now.  People would keep dying until he could negotiate peace. He knew his arguments. Had worked and honed them with Makedon and Nik. But was there anyone that was going fight with them? What was he walking into today? 

Patras was comfortable in the alliances they held, and untouched in the current unrest. They were not going to disrupt their own peace to stand for Akielon border towns.  

And Auguste and Laurent had projected their alignment with Vask yesterday loud and clear. The backdrop of the whole summit was Vere's union to Vask through marriage. Laurent's marriage. Would they sit silent then as Damen fought for his people's lives?

Damen couldn't stand the unknown any longer. He needed to know where Laurent stood before the talks today. He couldn't be blindsided in front of all four nations that Laurent wouldn't stand with him. He wasn't strong enough for it. 

Throwing discretion to the winds, he unapologetically stormed into the royal family's wing of the palace and up to two, as of yet unknown to him, guards standing outside Laurent's rooms and announced himself.

"Crown Prince of Akielos, Damianos, here requesting to speak with the Crown Prince of Vere."

Better trained guards wouldn't have exchanged a glance, but at least these two didn't hesitate to act. They knocked on the door to announce Damen themselves. 

A second later, Laurent opened his door, jacket only halfway laced up his chest, guarded curiosity on his face. 

He nodded to his guards, and let Damen pass him into the room silently, and closed the door behind them. 

Damen had stopped once he was in the room, but Laurent continued into the sitting room, idly playing with his loose laces, tying them up to the notch of his collarbone before letting the remainder hang.

"I see we're tired of being discreet already."

Damen admirably ignored the jab as well the the still exposed skin. 

"This is a diplomatic visit, not a personal one."

Laurent looked at him with open curiosity now. "Oh?

"I need to know what side of the table you will be sitting at today."

Laurent furrowed his brow. "Auguste will be at the head, and I will be at his left side, as I always am."

"That is not what I meant. We will be discussing a four nation treaty. A lot is at stake for Akielos who is currently under foreign attack, in case everyone has forgotten. We are sitting in a previously enemy nation, strengthened by two previously unheld international bonds. Our own sister nation does not have much at stake and will not risk her own peace. I am in a precarious position as it is, and I do not want to be blindsided in front of four nations that I stand alone for Akielon well being. When the raids of Akielon villages come up, whose side will you stand on?"

"Yours, of course. Always," Laurent said automatically, his face showing hurt and so much honesty that Damen's heart was wrenched in two. "I will stand for peace. What do you think all of this is for?" 

Laurent gestured around, and Damen wanted to grab him and demand answers. What was 'all this'? The summit? The wedding? Their circling each other? Veretian pomp and circumstance? Because no matter what the answer was, Damen did not know what it was for.

"I don't know," he said honestly, voice raw. He couldn't hide the desperation he was feeling, his face as stricken as he felt. "I have no idea what it is all for."

Laurent approached him slowly, like he expected Damen to explode at any second. 

"Damen," he said softly. "It's for you. It always has been. I know you've been through it this year. We all have. But this summit - it can fix all of that." He tentatively put his hands on Damen's shoulders, but Damen was too frozen to do anything but stare desolately back. "My uncle keeps moving the mark on us, but we made it this far. Four nations, here, well-intentioned, to discuss peace and mutual benefit. This is what it is all for. Auguste and I can handle Vere when it is all over."

"You don't have to do it alone," Damen said miserably. Needing Laurent to know that much. Not understanding the rest.

"I know," Laurent soothed, moving his hands up to cup Damen's cheeks. "I know. But don't worry about that now. The summit is first. It is most important. Go back to Nikandros and the rest and shore up your positions. And maybe rein Makedon in from trying to instigate a fight," he added with a smile.

"I don't know if I'm ready," Damen said honestly. He was terrified to sit at the table alone and fight for his kingdom. "There's still so much I'm not ready for."

Laurent placed a soft kiss on his lips, and Damen held it close inside his chest, letting it ignite him from within. "You are, Damianos. You were born for this. You are one of the best men I will ever know, and you are impossible to ignore. I will always be rooting for you."

Somehow crushed and galvanized all at once, Damen took Laurent's mouth in a harder kiss that he poured his thanks and appreciation into. 

"I love you," he said when they broke apart. It wasn't what he meant to say, but it was what came out, and he could tell by Laurent's answering sad smile that it wasn't the right time. "Thank you," he tried again. "For putting this all together. For giving me the chance to secure Akielos. For believing in me."

"It is not my doing," Laurent said, face open and honest once more. "You make it inevitable."

Damen swallowed and then nodded. He released Laurent, not knowing quite when he had gripped him so tightly, but knowing he had to let go. 

"See you at the table, then," he said, attempting to say goodbye. 

"I'll be to the left of Auguste," Laurent reminded him with another sad smile. 

Damen held it close to his heart, and left with his head high. 

--

The four nations sat at the table preparing for the summit to begin. Every seat was filled, with people standing around the seated occupants, except for one. The seat beside Laurent, meant for Alaia, was empty. Both Laurent and Auguste glanced at it occasionally, Auguste more obviously bothered by it, but Laurent's eyes were tight as well. 

Finally, Laurent's uncle cleared his throat. "Can we get started then? What are we waiting for?"

Auguste hesitated for a moment before Empress Vishkar spoke up. 

"Isn't Alaia attending as an ambassador for Vask?"

"Yes, she should be," the uncle agreed. "Where could she be?" He looked directly at Damen as he asked this, taking him off guard. "I saw Prince Damianos enter the royal wing quite urgently this morning. I know some of the guards there can corroborate that much. Maybe he has some insight into where she went so close to the summit."

All eyes swung to Damen, and he sat frozen, not knowing how to respond to the... accusation? He actually wasn't sure what the uncle was insinuating. Auguste looked at him bewildered, and Laurent's face had gone stoic, giving Damen nothing to go off of, but imploring him to be careful in his response to his uncle. 

"I - I have no idea. I had just gone to seek council from Prince Laurent before today's talks -"

"Speaking to the crown prince of another nation in his private rooms before a summit?" the uncle interrupted, and Laurent minutely shook his head. "Doesn't that imply a conflict of interest?"

"No!" Damen defended. "We have long been friends. That is not a secret -"

"Oh no, your long term 'friendship' with Vere's crown prince has certainly not been a secret," the uncle agreed derisively.

The door to the room burst open drawing everyone's eyes away from Damen's burning face as Alaia swept into the room in a hurry, giving apologies as she went, and quickly taking her seat next to Laurent.

"Are you okay?" Laurent asked her quietly, but it was Auguste's louder question that everyone heard.

"What happened to your hands?!"

Alaia winced in embarrassment at her bandaged hands. "Soha just got a little carried away with our playing this morning, and I ended up a little scratched up," she explained. She took in Auguste's worried expression and Laurent's imploring stare, and held up her hands. "I already had Paschal clean and dress them. That is why I am late. I deeply apologize for making everyone wait. Please, let's get started."

Auguste hesitated for a moment more, but then he nodded in agreement and the talks begun in earnest after that. Damen had to sit through some trade talks and farming incentives, but when the topic of sanctions against certain military attacks came up, Damen pounced on the opening and turned the discussion towards the current skirmishes on the Akielos/Vask border.

The topic was allowed to take center stage, and Damen was surprised to find he had more support than he had anticipated. Auguste, Laurent and Alaia all agreed that an immediate end to the current violence was of the utmost importance, and Torgier added on that Akielos diverting resources to protect its borders would make it impossible for them to meet the other goals they were setting here.

Vishkar listened intently to Alaia's detailing of the free men's plight and how their bitterness at being left behind when their perceived worth declined after a certain age had led to this uncontained desperation. 

Vishkar reluctantly agreed that by washing her hands of any responsibility to them, she had allowed them the freedom to seek their fortunes elsewhere by any means necessary. She agreed to basic assurances that she could give to men that agreed to rejoin the tribes and promised to head her own campaign to stamp out the remaining dissenters. Those that returned and future generations would all be given a productive role in the matriarchal society.

Makedon offered to help with the stamping out part, but Vishkar respectfully declined. 

--

When they broke apart for a recess, Damen was on an adrenaline high from the relief he felt from his success. He wanted to go to his rooms to pen a missive to his father immediately.

Alaia approached him, and he first thought she was there to offer congratulations, but the cautiousness of her approach threw him off.

"Prince Damianos, will you escort me to my rooms?"

Damen furrowed his brows in confusion, and delayed giving an answer while he watched Laurent also approach.

"Alaia, you were brilliant. Auguste wants to -" Laurent trailed off at the look on Damen's face. "What's going on?" He looked around them. "Where are your guards?"

Alaia sighed. "Do not bring attention to it at the moment, please. I suppose it is better if you are part of this as well. We need to go to my rooms right away, and not appear urgent about it. And get Auguste for us too, will you please?"

Laurent tamped down his surprise, but nodded for them to go ahead of him. He circled back to his brother and caught his attention casually. 

Alaia took Damen's arm strongly in her own, and started walking them in the direction of the royal wing as leisurely as possible while still moving swiftly. 

"Can you tell me what we are walking towards?" Damen asked eventually, unable to stand the silence.

"I was actually hoping you could tell me," she replied, not looking at him. It did nothing to settle his nerves. 

"Does it have anything to do with your hands?" he tried again, lightly putting his own over her bandaged one on his arm. It was a thick bandage.

She looked up at him then, eyes searching. She nodded slowly. "It does, yes. Can you guess any more?"

He shook his head in response, bewildered by the question. He hoped Laurent and Auguste would catch up to them soon. 

They reached her rooms without running into a single soul, and with no one guarding the outside, Alaia pushed the door open herself. 

Damen quickly took in the room as he stepped inside. There looked to have been a recent struggle, trinkets and side furniture turned over and not righted, and a vase shattered nearby with water and flowers still pooled on the ground.

His eyes immediately landed on a man tied up, sitting on the ground, only Malik standing over him. Malik turned when he heard them enter, and grew immediately agitated upon seeing Damen. He stepped towards them, drawing his blade, all his anger focused on Damen. Damen quickly realized he was unarmed, a show of peaceful intentions for the summit. 

"What is the meaning of this?!" Malik spat at Damen, over Alaia's head, who had stepped in front of him. 

"Hold, cousin," she said, frighteningly calm in the face of the apparent violence that took place here. "King Auguste and Prince Laurent are on their way to get answers."

Keeping her body towards her angry cousin, she turned her head to Damen. 

"Prince Damianos, do you know this man?" she indicated the man tied up on the ground.

On high alert now, but still confused, Damen could only answer honestly. "No. I have not seen him before."

Alaia nodded at Malik, and Malik removed the man's gag. 

"Exalted!" he gasped in Akielon, making Damen flinch. "I am sorry I failed you. I was not quick enough, and they were prepared!"

Damen stood in shock. Alaia nodded her head again at Malik who regagged the man, even as he spewed hateful things at him and his cousin who stood before him with the only weapons in the room. 

"He seems to know you," Alaia said carefully, and let the sentence linger. 

A knock on the door. Laurent and Auguste had arrived. 

Damen stood still, but Alaia nodded to him. "Go ahead and open it. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Instincts screaming at him not to turn his back, Damen turned anyway to open the door.

He opened it to Auguste and Laurent casually chatting, but they both cut their words short at the sight of his face. 

"What happened?" Laurent asked him immediately, as Auguste pushed past Damen straight into the room. Some part of Damen was comforted by the fact that it was Auguste at his back now, and not the Vaskians or the tied up man.

Instead of answering Laurent, as he had no answers of his own, Damen opened the door wider to let him see for himself. 

Laurent's eyes widened as he took in the scene and stepped inside. He didn't step farther than Damen's side though, and Damen was grateful for it. 

Auguste was fully engaged in the scene before them already, crouching next to the tied up man to search him, and rising to question Alaia and Malik.

"I was attacked this morning before the summit," Alaia answered him, gesturing towards the man and the mess. "He surprised me, but he wielded only a dagger, though he had a sword at his side. I caught the dagger in my hands," she gestured her flat hand posture to trap a small blade, "and called for Malik who was stationed outside. He rushed in and neutralized the threat, but obviously I had already been injured. I did go to see Paschal, and the rest of the story for why I was late to the summit was true."

Auguste winced at the story, grabbing her hands to inspect for himself. Laurent stayed rigid beside Damen. 

"And who is the man?" he asked carefully.

Alaia and Malik shared a look, but she shook her head this time. Malik remained still by the man who remained gagged.

"That is why I asked you all here," Alaia answered with a cautious glance at Damen. "He had some... outlandish claims." 

Laurent nodded for her to go on and Auguste took a step back to stand neutrally to the side. Observing everything all at once. 

"He speaks Akielon. As do I. He changed to Vaskian when he realized Malik didn't understand," Alaia started. "He said he is Akielon, traveling with the Exalted. Working under the Exalted's orders."

Silence rang in Damen's ears after the claim, before he jumped to his own defence. "I have never seen this man before," he implored. "I didn't - I would never -"

"No."

It was Auguste who spoke, startling them all. They all spun in his direction, helpless but to pay attention when he used his king's voice like that.

"This was not Damen's doing," he said like there was no doubt. Like his word made it so. "He would never do something so cowardly."

All of Damen's frustration at his friend over the last weeks was rushed out of him in a tidal wave of appreciation at his steadfast and unwavering belief in him. Even after being raised in Vere where he and Laurent were taught to look for lies and deceit at every turn. Even after the year of undermining at the hands of his own blood. Even after the assassination attempts on himself and his loved ones, Auguste's belief in him endured. 

Damen couldn't speak through the emotion clogging his throat. 

Alaia nodded at Auguste, like she was waiting for him to say it. 

"I didn't think so, myself," she admitted. "It seemed too convenient that he could switch his language to make sure we understood the source of his plot. And Prince Damianos' face when he saw the man held no recognition."

"But then who...?" Damen wondered aloud.

Laurent was squatting in front of the man now, Damen not having noticed he left his side. 

"He looks Akielon enough," Laurent was saying. "Believable, at least."

"He speaks it well too," Alaia commented. "Perhaps a border town?"

"One that could've been attacked recently and made this one radicalized enough to listen to a man trying to start a war," Laurent agreed grimly. "You said there was a dagger?"

"Also obviously Akielon," Alaia said, as she took the dagger from a fold in her dress. 

Damen's eyes snagged on it as Laurent went to examine it. Auguste had come over to clap his hand on his shoulder, but Damen couldn't look away. It couldn't be -

"That's mine."

Alaia and Laurent looked up at him questioningly.

"That's my dagger," Damen repeated.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Auguste asked.

"No!" Damen exclaimed. "It's just -"

"What do you mean, it's your dagger?" Laurent asked. "Like, someone stole it from your room?"

"No!" Damen said again. "It shouldn't even be here, in Vere, at all. It was a gift from my dad. I rarely travel with it. It should be back in my rooms in Ios." He took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart. "But - look at the inscriptions. The symbols. The jewels. Anyone with knowledge of Akielon traditions would recognize that as belonging to me, personally, as the crown prince."

Auguste just stared at him while Laurent inspected the dagger more carefully. 

The silence was broken by Alaia. "O-kay. Maybe that's a detail we keep to ourselves for now."

"Are we supposed to believe all of this?" Malik asked Alaia incredulously. 

Alaia looked back at him and shrugged dramatically. "We are in Vere, cousin. The simple answer is never correct. And you already know there is a lot more at play here. This attempt doesn't really fit into all that if it was by Prince Damianos."

"Except for the obvious fact that -" Malik cut himself off when Alaia shook her head again sadly. 

"It would not be necessary in that case. You know that as well as I do." 

Auguste seemed to be interested in whatever they were discussing, but Laurent was walking over to Damen again, taking his attention away from the Vaskians' discussion. 

"Are you okay?" Laurent asked him quietly.

"Of course," Damen said automatically. "It was not me who was attacked."

"It sort of feels like it was," Laurent said, handing him his own dagger. 

Damen looked at it and considered the implications of it being here. He was overdue for a long talk with Nikandros. But they still had half the day's summit left. Later, then. It could keep for now.

--

Damen was in an unsettled mood. The summit was a success, of course. Makedon and Nikandros had been thrilled with the results. There was a peace agreement in place for the border towns, and all four nations could look forward to a fruitful relationship for the foreseeable future. 

But at the end of the day when they all staggered into the great hall, tired from talking, and ready to relax into the entertainments provided by the host nation of Vere, Laurent went off to sit between his brother and fiancée at the high table, and Damen was left alone again, thoughts swirling with the events of the day. 

No closer to resolving any of his issues by the time the dinner portion of the evening had finished, Damen stood alone, avoiding Nikandros' persistent attempts to corral him. He hadn't yet told his friend what he discovered today in Alaia's rooms, and he wasn't sure he was ready to.

Everyone was mingling around the different entertainments set up, some musical, some more physical in nature. This was Vere, after all. The mood was lighter than the last time they gathered together. The treaty was signed, and everyone was celebrating.

Unfortunately, the first man who was able to corner Damen into a conversation was the last man he wanted to see. 

Laurent's uncle appeared next to him, holding up two glasses, and Damen couldn't pretend he didn't see him. He braced himself to be provoked into some embarrassing outburst, he was sure. 

"Prince Damianos!" the uncle exclaimed as he appeared. "Sulking over here by yourself? Surely my nephew isn't worth more than a week or two of moping at the most."

Damen just closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the man. 

"I bet I can even find you a suitable replacement," the absolute knob went on, searching the pets who were entertaining tonight. "Ah, over there. Fair and beautiful. Slightly frail, and eager to please. Those are your favorite attributes in a conquest, right? Someone to overpower and then be thanked for your time?"

Damen ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I swear to whatever gods you believe in, that if you don't shut your vile mouth right now, I will gladly take eternal banishment from Vere to punch you in your fucking face."

Laurent's uncle just chuckled at the reaction he so easily provoked. 

"Too soon? Alright then, another time. Here," he held up the cups he brought over. "In the spirit of Laurent's unique tastes, would you prefer Vaskian well-bred wine? Or Akielon poison?"

Happy to rid himself of this parasite, but not willing to stomach Makedon's griva tonight, Damen swiped the wine from him. 

The uncle just chuckled again and held up the griva for himself. "Bottoms up, then!" 

Damen took the required sip as the uncle drained his, and made a face as he put it down on a nearby table. "Ugh. Absolutely vile. No idea what Laurent ever saw in it."

"Okay, fuck off now," Damen said in defeat. "You've won tonight."

"Ah, but I don't think I have," the uncle said pouting. "I want my nephew to be wearing the same face you are now. But he just seems so happy."

"Why don't you grace him with your presence? That should do the trick." Damen regretted it as soon as he said it. The last thing he wanted was this man anywhere near Laurent. 

But the uncle was already grinning. "You know what? That would suit me just fine. Thanks for the suggestion, young man."

Damen backtracked quickly. "Not tonight, toad. I'll make sure you don't go anywhere near him." 

The uncle grinned and shook his head at Damen. Like Damen was a naughty child he was indulging. "You can't protect him all the time, my boy, and you know it too. But have at it. He's all yours tonight."

Damen gave him his best disgusted look as he left without another word, and true to his promise went over to Laurent to make sure his uncle couldn't get close. He didn't need to search as he knew exactly where Laurent was, and was gratified when Laurent smiled warmly at him when he joined his group. 

Laurent was amongst a group of nobles from all four nations and they were all eager to have his ear. Damen just stood silently next to him, angling his body so he could protect him from any newcomers. Occasionally, Laurent would smile up at him, or roll his eyes at his protectiveness, and Damen would warm all over wanting to get closer. As time went on the desire seemed almost visceral.

Watching Laurent work was always a treat, but seeing the candlelight dance on his hair and the flush rise in his cheeks as he got more and more animated made Damen want to be the source of that flush. And track it all the way down his body. Laurent's lips were stained red with the wine he was drinking, a rare indulgence for him, but there was certainly a lot to celebrate tonight.

Damen wondered if Laurent's wine was the same Vaskian wine he was sampling. He reached for the cup, and felt a thrill when Laurent handed it over to him. Damen leaned his nose in and took a deep inhale. The wine was sweet. He found the print left on the rim from Laurent's lips, and placed his own lips there to drink, licking up the drips that spilled over the rim.

Laurent shot him an annoyed look when he handed him back his cup, but Damen didn't mind. He bet he could kiss that look right off his face. Images of doing just that filled Damen's mind as his body filled with want. He leaned closer to Laurent, luxuriating in the warmth of him. His hand found the small of his back, drawn like a moth to a flame. He felt Laurent stiffen and frowned. He started to massage little circles into his muscles to loosen him up, subtly letting his fingers drift lower and lower. 

Judging by the look Laurent leveled at him when he grabbed his arm away, it wasn't quite as subtle as he thought. Laurent used the arm he grabbed to lead him away from the group, apologizing that he needed to introduce him to someone (he used the same excuse Auguste used when he was angry, how adorable). 

"What the fuck are you doing, Damianos?" Laurent hissed, a surprisingly strong grip on his arm that made Damen want to test his strength in all sorts of positions.  

"Nothing," he whispered back, leaning in to try to get a whiff of Laurent's hair. "I miss you is all."

Laurent turned to glare at Damen, but faltered when he made eye contact. His blue eyes went wide, and he used the hand on Damen's arm to steer him into a private alcove. 

He released Damen once inside, and Damen mourned the loss immediately. He tried to shuffle closer to Laurent, but Laurent held up a hand. 

"What are you thinking right now?"

Damen gave him a winning grin. "About how many times I can make you come in here before someone discovers us."

"Okay, stop talking, Gods. Give me this." He took Damen's wine from him. 

"Hey!" Damen said weakly, but Laurent just shushed him as he slowly poured out the liquid into a nearby plant, scraping his finger on the bottom of it when he was done. 

Feeling it between his fingers, he showed Damen the residue he had collected, and Damen's stomach lurched.

"You've been drugged, Damen." 

Damen didn't respond, so Laurent went on.

"It's a heavy drug so it concentrates at the bottom of the drink. The taste would've been stronger towards the end of the cup, but by then you would've been too gone to notice."

Laurent was still trying to peer at Damen's pupils, even as Damen tried to avoid looking him in the eye. 

"Where did you get the cup?"

Shame washed through Damen's body. "Your uncle gave it to me."

"You accepted a cup of wine from my uncle." Laurent looked at him disbelievingly. "After what happened to Alaia today?"

"He offered me one of two! And then drained the other one himself. I only sipped on this one."

Laurent ran a hand over his face. "I am suddenly much more forgiving of my thirteen year old self."

"He drugged you too?!" Damen was instantly enraged. The drug may have been intensifying more than one emotion. 

"How do you think I knew the drug so well?" Laurent snapped back. "He made sure my memory wasn't clear enough to trust myself. So he could feed me the narrative. Gods, Damen. What am I going to do with you?"

"Help me?" Damen said, feeling very small. 

"Okay," Laurent said, determined. "Stay here. Don't move. I need to tell Auguste what is happening, and then I'll get you out of here. Please stay out of sight for now. You look like you are about to ravish the next thing that blinks at you."

"That's only because I'm looking at you," Damen mumbled. 

Laurent just shook his head. He told Damen to stay one more time with his hand, and then darted out. 

Damen stood for a second trying to take stock of himself. He felt warm, and pleasantly buzzed, but not too different from when he indulged in too much wine. He wondered how much the few sips of the drug he had could affect him. He supposed he felt a bit amorous, but it was definitely worse when Laurent was in his direct vicinity. Controllable, then.

Gods, did he really grope Laurent in the middle of a crowded banquet? In front of the leaders of four countries, his own brother, and his fiancée? Maybe he lacked some control, then.

He chanced a peek out to see where Laurent had got to. His body immediately warmed again when he saw him. Gods, he was beautiful. His dark trousers hugged his long legs and his jacket nipped at his waist, begging for Damen's hand to rest right there. Damen could slip up behind him, settle his hands in that crook, and place a kiss on the strip of exposed nape that was calling him.

Right, he was supposed to be focused on getting out of here. What was Laurent doing over there? Why weren't they leaving together?

He was talking to his brother. Damen saw Auguste look over at him and rub his forehead. Auguste always looked annoyed when he looked at Damen lately. Was kingship really that hard? It was probably harder when your own family was trying to kill you, he supposed. Kastor was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. 

Oh yeah! Kastor! Damen was supposed to be talking to Nik about Kastor! Well, no time like the present. He should go look for Nik. 

As he stepped out of the alcove, Laurent intercepted him. Gods, he was beautiful. If Laurent would only let him, Damen would -

"I told you to stay put. Why are you moving?" Laurent asked him.

Damen just stared.

"...why am I not supposed to move again?"

Laurent dropped his head. "Oh my gods. Let's just go. Are you coming?"

Damen still didn't move. "Didn't you just say not to -"

"Gods, Damen, this isn't a test!" Laurent said, exasperated. "We need to leave. Now. Can you follow me?"

"Leave with you?" Damen repeated feeling warm all over again. "Yeah, sweetheart, I can do that." His hand made for the spot on Laurent's waist that had been taunting him, but Laurent jumped out of reach before it could land.

"Don't touch me," he said. "Not here. Do you think you can do that?"

Damen's brow furrowed as he snatched back his hand. Right, the world leaders. The brother. The fiancée. "Yeah, I can do that."

Laurent nodded, looking relieved. "Good. You are doing great. We are going to go to my rooms, and we'll get Paschal to take a look at you to see what sort of damage control we can manage."

Damen nodded again, eagerly, getting stuck on the part where they were going to Laurent's rooms. Only good things happened in Laurent's rooms. 

Laurent took his nod as a signal that he was ready, and turned on his heel to go. Damen scrambled to follow, trying to keep a discreet distance, but making sure he was close enough to keep an eye on Laurent's backside. It really did look good in those trousers. 

Laurent met up with Jord when they were in the hallway and sent him to fetch Paschal. Jord raised an eyebrow in Damen's direction, but went to fulfill Laurent's order. 

Laurent set a brisk pace to his rooms that Damen had trouble keeping up. 

"Eager, are we?" Damen panted, trying to get close enough to put his hand on the small of Laurent's back again.

Laurent looked back and rolled his eyes when he saw Damen's eyes on his backside again. 

"Eager to get you out of sight and taken care of, yes," he responded. 

Damen thought his panting now was from the thoughts racing through his head, rather than exertion. "Oh yeah? How are you going to 'take care' of me?" he asked. 

Laurent didn't even look back this time when he answered, "a bucket of cold water over your head."

Damen let out a shocked, still breathless laugh, and hurried to keep up. 

When they got to Laurent's rooms, Orlant was outside the door. He raised an eyebrow at Damen's presence panting beside Laurent. Wasn't this supposed to be one of the well-trained ones? Damen would have to speak to Laurent again about his guards. 

"Prince Damianos is sick," Laurent explained, unnecessarily in Damen's opinion. "Jord was sent to fetch Paschal. Please let him right in when he gets here."

"Whatever you say, your highness," Orlant commented as he opened the door for them.

Damen murmured a thank you - also unnecessarily - as they passed. 

Once inside, Damen immediately tried to reach for Laurent, but Laurent pushed him away. 

"Sit," Laurent told him, pointing at the couch. "I'll be right back."

Damen sat, and waited like he was told. His skin was starting to burn, and he wanted to get his clothes off to feel some relief. Maybe he could convince Laurent to do the undressing. 

Laurent came back shortly before Damen was about to cave and remove everything himself. He held a basin of water in one hand, and a stack of cloths in the other. 

Was he going to wash Damen? Damen thought he could be into that. Maybe they'd wash each other, like they had so many times before in the baths.

Laurent cleared his throat, claiming Damen's attention, and pulling his gaze back up to his face. He set the basin down on the table, and kneeled on the couch cushion next to Damen. 

"I hope this is alright," he said hesitantly, almost shyly, as he soaked one cloth in the basin and wrung it out until it stopped dripping. 

Damen circled an arm around Laurent's waist to draw him closer. 

"More than," he murmured, tilting his face up to Laurent's. 

Laurent brought the cloth down on Damen's forehead. 

It was freezing.

Damen jerked away at the cold sensation.

"What is that?!" he spluttered, trying to rip the cloth off, only to struggle against Laurent who was holding it to his skin.

"It's cold water," Laurent explained unnecessarily again. "To cool your blood. You were drugged, remember?" 

Damen did vaguely remember Laurent's uncle drugging him with something that was making his desire for Laurent hard to control. 

"Is this really necessary?" Damen asked as he struggled to get out from under the cloth.

"I'm finding it to be enormously successful, actually," Laurent commented, not trying to hide his smile at Damen's displeasure. 

Paschal entered Laurent's rooms then, after being granted access from Laurent's guard.

He took in the scene of Damen struggling under Laurent on the couch before commenting, "I see you've started without me."

"Paschal," Laurent said, straightening up. "Thanks for coming so quickly." Damen used Laurent's distraction to rip the cloth off his head and put some distance between him and Laurent. The betrayer.

"What's happened to him?" Paschal asked as he set his bag up and knelt in front of Damen.

"He was drugged," Laurent said bluntly, and Damen felt embarrassed again about the whole thing. "I think it was chalis, but I was hoping you could confirm. And maybe counter it somehow."

Paschal was looking in Damen's eyes and mouth, having to hold him when Damen tried to squirm away.

"Stay still, Exalted," he said as he worked, and Damen was sick of people telling him that. Who else had told him that? It felt like a lot of people had told him that tonight. 

"You don't happen to still have the cup, do you?" Paschal asked, not very hopefully. 

Damen was about to reply negatively when Laurent produced the very cup he was drinking from earlier out of absolutely nowhere. 

Paschal made a pleased noise as he grabbed it, and Damen just gaped at Laurent. Laurent shrugged back, and Damen laughed out loud. Laurent was funny.

Paschal was fingering the residue the same way Laurent had earlier, though much less sexily, and then he looked up at them both. 

"You were right, your highness. It is definitely chalis, and quite a lot of it." He looked at Damen. "Did you drink this whole cup?"

"No!" Damen protested, trying to convince everyone there, including himself, that he was not that much of an idiot. "Just a few sips. Maybe half? Less?"

Paschal was nodding like that was good, and Damen was irrationally proud of himself. 

"Good, that's good. It gets stronger towards the bottom, so you should have missed the heavier dosage." Damen beamed his pride at Laurent who just shook his head fondly back at him. Damen loved to see him smile. "We should still try to get you to purge as much as you can, since there isn't really an antidote. It has started to affect you somewhat already, but if you were drinking slowly, then we may still be able to save some from absorbing. Anything we can cut out is a good thing in this case."

Damen nodded, and Laurent fetched him another basin, empty this time. Paschal gave him some sort of wretched tonic that had him heaving instantly, his head bent over the basin. There was plenty that came up, between the feast and the drink, and Paschal seemed happy with what he saw.

Damen was sweating with exertion, but he felt cool washcloths, not freezing this time, on the back of his neck and shoulders throughout, and gentle fingers brushing his hair back as it stuck to his face. It was almost nice.

When Damen had nothing left to purge, Paschal collected the mess and cleaned it out in the other room. Laurent sat with his knees tucked under him, continuing to drape cold cloths over Damen's shoulders, and wiping his face for him, while Paschal returned and told him what he needed to know. 

He should be okay. He didn't think he ingested enough for his size to be reduced down to his base instincts. He would feel a compulsion for release for the next few hours, and it would be uncomfortable if not addressed, but he should maintain some, if not most, of his faculties. He would feel feverish most likely, but once again, release would assuage the more unbearable symptoms.

Damen was having trouble taking it all in. His skin was feeling hot and overly sensitive to touch again. So much that even the fine fabric of his chiton felt abrasive. But Laurent was nodding along like he was the patient, and Damen was flooded with thankfulness that Laurent was there to take care of him.

When Paschal left with his bag, the room was quiet again but for the sound of Laurent soaking another cloth and wringing out the drips. He shuffled closer to drape it behind Damen's neck, bent knees touching Damen's thigh.

Damen took a deep breath. The water had warmed slightly, but it was still cool against Damen's feverish skin.

"How are you feeling?" Laurent asked him, hesitantly, like he thought it was a silly question, but still wanted to ask.

"Stupid," Damen said honestly, no energy left to prevaricate. "Hot. Like I want to take my clothes off. Like I want to take your clothes off."

Laurent laughed, and it eased the knot forming in Damen's chest. 

"Normal then?" Laurent teased, and Damen couldn't help but smile back. He dropped his arm from the back of the couch so that it circled Laurent's waist. Even that small contact eased his discomfort somewhat. 

"This okay?" he asked, unsure, and Laurent's teasing laugh softened into a warm smile and soft eyes. 

"Yes, Damianos, it is okay," he said while he leaned over to soak another cloth. Damen tightened his grip to make sure he didn't topple over. 

Laurent lifted the wet cloth to Damen's face and started dabbing at the sweat beading there.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, mirroring Damen's question. 

Damen closed his eyes to the sensation. The cloth felt good, relieving some of the heat from his skin, even if not from his groin. It felt indulgent to have Laurent attend him in this way. 

"Yes," he said, eyes still closed as Laurent moved the cloth across his face, and replaced the one at the back of his neck again. "Feels good."

Laurent reached for the water cup again and held it up to Damen's lips. 

"Here," he said, tilting it up, "keep drinking. It should wash it out if your system faster."

Damen drank the whole cup as he was told, and then blinked still fully dilated eyes up into Laurent's blue ones. 

"Is it working yet?"

Laurent chuckled again, and shook his head.

"Maybe not noticeably yet for you, but it's helping, I promise." He got another cloth and started to pat Damen's shoulders and upper chest. It felt good. Damen's muscles were so tight that this gentle contact felt like a massage. He stopped himself short of moaning, but it was a close thing. 

"I think we caught it early enough, and mitigated the effects enough, so it will be bearable for you, if not comfortable," Laurent went on, not sounding completely certain in himself.

"It is," Damen tried to assure him. Laurent was right after all. Damen certainly wasn't comfortable, and he was definitely out of sorts, but he hadn't completely lost his mind. His whole body was straining to be as close as possible to Laurent. To enter him and to possess him and to reach an animalistic climax together. But he also knew that it wasn't right. He could still hold himself back from it. They hadn't made love like that for over a year, and to do it now, like this, when it wouldn't feel entirely like their choice, wasn't right. Damen didn't truly want it like that. 

And for Laurent to be this close, attending Damen, bringing water to his lips, soothing his fevered skin, he was putting his full trust in Damen to keep control of himself in this state, and Damen didn't take that lightly. 

They talked idly to try and distract themselves, and laughed over silly things and Damen's plight. The whole time, Laurent's hands never stopped moving, cooling Damen's skin with the cloths, his face, his neck, his shoulders, his back, his chest, and all over again. It was rhythmic and soothing, and keeping Damen sane. 

Occasionally, Damen would grip Laurent tighter, or nose his way through Laurent's hair, or bury his face in Laurent's neck so that his scent could sooth his fire, and for the most part it worked. 

But Damen's symptoms were reaching a fever pitch, and his arousal was so painful he couldn't ignore it any longer. He tried to just palm himself over his clothes, trying to rub some of the pain away, but he needed more pressure, more friction, more everything he could get. 

His face was pressed into Laurent's neck again, and his breathing was labored as he dug the heel of his hand as hard as he could into the base of his straining cock. Laurent was murmuring soothing words against his hair, still dragging the cool cloth over his chest, reaching down under the top of his chiton as far as he could reach.

"Laurent," Damen strained, "I can't - I need - please. Can I please touch myself?"

Laurent's breath hitched and became shallower, but his hands never stopped moving the cloth against Damen's skin. 

"Of course," he breathed into Damen's hair. "Of course, Damen. Paschal said release would help. Take it. Take what you need. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here for you."

Damen groaned as he lifted his skirt and took himself in hand. Gods, it was painful to touch, but the pressure immediately gave some relief. He clutched Laurent to himself as tightly as possible and leaned on him as much as he dared. His face was still pressed tightly to Laurent's neck, trying to fill his lungs with Laurent's scent. His lips brushed skin as he panted, but he was careful not to latch on in a way that could leave marks. 

Sensing him holding himself back still, Laurent dropped the cloth he was using on Damen's chest to bring both hands up to his own neck and started unlacing the strings there. He opened up his collar to below his collar bones, and Damen growled his approval as he moved down to skin he didn't need to be as gentle with. He nipped and sucked, and all of it was stoking his frenzy higher and higher.

Laurent was still holding himself stiff and upright, but his hands scrambled next to Damen's chiton pin at his shoulder, and released the fabric down to Damen's hips. His cool fingers then skated over Damen's entire torso, hands flat against his pecs, dipping between his ribs, and running his fingertips down over his stomach to where it was tightening rhythmically with Damen's strokes.

Damen's movements were becoming fast and jerky, and his left hand was still clutching Laurent hard enough to bruise. 

His entire body was tightening, muscles contracting so much it was painful as everything culminated into one feeling. 

"I'm right there," he gasped into Laurent's neck. "It's happening. I'm going to -"

Laurent grabbed Damen's face right at the last moment, and crushed their mouths together to keep Damen grounded through an explosive climax that released all of the tension that had been building up since he had accepted that stupid cup. 

His release went all over both of them, he was sure, but he kept kissing Laurent through it all and after, slowing it down as his whole body came down from the release, and his mind came back to him slowly. He kept moving his mouth over Laurent's until it became purely indulgent, and then he released him, letting his head fall back on the top of of the couch, still breathing heavily. 

"Fuck," he said. It was all he could articulate. "That was -"

"I know," Laurent chuckled, breathless as well, as he sank down to fit himself under Damen's outstretched arm. Once he was comfortable, Damen dipped his head back down to rest his nose on Laurent's crown.

"I couldn't even see straight though the haze," he admitted quietly to the hair there. "Was I... was it okay?"

Laurent nodded, hand splayed over Damen's still bare stomach, and the mess he left there. "You were gentle. Still aware."

"Were you affected at all?" Damen asked, sheepish now for how lost he was to all of it.

"Gods, Damen," Laurent said, disbelieving. "Yes. Incredibly so. But I didn't want - it felt -"

"I know," Damen said softly. "I know. I wouldn't have wanted that either. I was just glad you were here."

Laurent lifted his head then and smiled shyly at Damen. 

"It's not that I don't want to -"

Laurent's sentence cut off when they heard a thunk from the bedroom.

They looked at each other sharply, and scrambled apart to sit up straighter. Damen redid his pin at his shoulder and Laurent loosely tied his laces back up. 

He signaled for Damen to be quiet as they stood, and Laurent grabbed a sharp sword from the wall. Damen found the dagger he knew Laurent hid in his writing table, and he crept behind Laurent to the closed door of the bedroom. 

Laurent glanced behind him one more time to get Damen's nod of approval, before he kicked his door open with his foot, both hands ready on the hilt of his sword.

The abruptness of their entrance startled the occupants which bought them a few precious seconds of advantage. 

There were five of them in total, two by the bed, two ransacking the wardrobe, and one at the balcony. 

"Guards!" Laurent called out as he immediately engaged with the two closest to them at the wardrobe, holding them back from Damen with his longer weapon. 

Damen used the cover to lunge at the one on the balcony, ducking inside his guard to stick his shoulder with the dagger. The man tried to swing his sword at Damen's neck, but Damen was close enough now to catch the hilt of it in both hands. Weakened by the shoulder injury, the man's grip slackened enough for Damen to step back and use his foot in the center of the man's chest to shove him off the sword and over the balcony railing. 

Not stopping to see where he landed, Damen tuned to the two men that had been immediately impeded by the bulk of the bed when they attacked. Having circled it now, they attacked Damen at the same time, trying to drive him to the edge of the balcony, as they just witnessed him do with their compatriot. 

Two common sellswords would not have been a match for Damen on a regular day, and tonight, with Damen's blood boiling over with a rage that was only fuelled by the drug, Damen cut them down without hesitation. In two brutal blows, he had their blood spilling out over each other, and spraying Damen's arms and chest.

Panicked, remembering Laurent with the men at the wardrobe, Damen turned quickly to mark where he was. His breath finally returned to him when he saw Laurent relatively unscathed. One of the men's gut was bleeding out against the furniture, and Orlant was tying up the second man, who was still barely conscious, to the foot of the sturdy bed. Laurent crouched down next to him speaking lowly, either to the man or Orlant, Damen couldn't tell.

Adrenaline crashing, Damen breathed heavily as he stalked over to Laurent, only dropping his sword when the would be assassin was fully tied up and the threat neutralized. He pulled Laurent up to him, and crushed him to his chest, not even noticing the dark blood that he was smearing onto Laurent's jacket and hair as he gripped it tightly. 

"I'm fine, Damianos," he said, muffled against Damen's chest. He pulled himself away from Damen's grip to get a better look at him. "What about you? Where is all this blood coming from?"

"None of it is mine, I promise," Damen said darkly, wishing there was someone else to cut down in his anger.

Laurent looked up as Jord came back in from securing the balcony.

"What of Alphonse?" Laurent asked. Of course, Damen thought. He would have had someone watching the balcony as the only other penetration point to his private rooms. 

Jord shrugged. "Either dead or a traitor. I'll have to investigate below."

"So dead either way," Orlant chimed in darkly, and Damen fervently agreed. 

Laurent sighed. "Can you alert Auguste on your way?" he asked Jord. "He should be here for this."

Jord nodded, and clasped Laurent's shoulder on his way out. For a brief moment, Damen thought he would hug his prince, but professional to a fault, Jord refrained from anything more sentimental than a head nod. 

After deciding to let Orlant stay with the captive, Laurent and Damen retreated to the sitting room to await Auguste. 

Laurent collapsed into the couch again, exhausted, but Damen's body was still tense, screaming to fight or to fuck. He remained standing, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

Glancing up at his posture and noticing his predicament, Laurent huffed a humorless laugh. 

"His plan finally makes sense now," he said darkly.

"What plan?" Damen said, still on edge.

"My uncle's," Laurent explained. "He drugs you, and sets your sights on me. He probably expected you to down the whole thing, and for me to take you here because he knows of my... whatever. Anyway, you'd fuck me like an animal, rough me up while you were at it, and then we'd both pass out, completely drained, and be dead before we even knew what happened. Or maybe just me. I'm not sure if he planned to actually kill you or have you wake up covered in my blood. I assume either one would have been acceptable to him."

Horrified at the visual, Damen was struck dumb. The first thing he thought to say was, "I'd never be rough with you."

Laurent huffed another laugh, this one containing an ounce of humor again. "That's your take away from all of that?"

Damen made an annoyed sound. "No, I know the rest is important too, but -" he looked at Laurent earnestly, "I'd never be rough with you."

Laurent smiled up at Damen, amused and charmed despite the circumstances. "I know, Damianos."

They were silent for a moment, taking in the new perspective, before Laurent added, "you could, you know."

Damen looked at him quizzically, so Laurent expanded. "Be rough with me, I mean. Sometimes. When we both wanted it."

Laurent was blushing and white hot desire flooded Damen, making every nerve sing with it. Every thought must have shown on his face as he collapsed next to Laurent groaning.

"Can we not talk about this when I supposed to be trying to cool my blood?" he croaked.

"Right," Laurent said quickly, blushing further as he looked away. "I'm sorry -"

"No," Damen interrupted. "Don't be sorry. I'd love to have you anyway you wanted. But - not tonight. Not when -" he gestured at himself, the blood, and everything around them.

"I know," Laurent said, looking softly at him again. "I wouldn't want to tonight either."

Laurent suddenly laughed at the absurdity of it all as he took in the state of him. "Damen the Barbarian. Slaying five men with a fully erect cock."

Damen looked down to confirm the accurate description. "Just three," he muttered, but his mind was spinning with the other details of what Laurent had just told him.

There had only been five of them. Undrugged and unsurprised, Damen and Laurent could probably take five men each on their own. 

The attackers really hadn't expected a fight then. They expected Damen to be passed out and Laurent to be - to be -

"Oh Gods," Damen said, feeling like he was going to be sick again. He covered his face with his hands, completely shaken up when he finally realized that he had been used in a plot against Laurent's life. "It's me. I'm the key. They want - it's me."

Laurent pulled his hands from his face and forced him to look at him. He rubbed Damen's palms in an attempt to calm him down. 

"Damen," he said softly. "It's not you. You could never -"

"No," Damen interrupted fiercely. He had to make Laurent understand. He was the danger here. Laurent needed to get as far away from him as he could. "It's me. I'm their key. It was my dagger with Alaia. It was my - evidence - they were supposed to find on you." Damen was physically sick at the thought. "I am the weapon they are using against you."

"Damen," Laurent said. Still softly. So softly. Like he still didn't understand that Damen was a danger to him. Laurent took a hold of his cheeks and brought their faces close. So close that all Damen could see was Laurent. His lovely Laurent. He couldn't imagine being used to hurt him. “Damen, you cannot be used against me. It is their mistake to try. You are not a weakness of mine. You make me stronger. That is why all of their plots failed. We are stronger together.”

Laurent swiped his thumb under Damen's eye, and Damen didn't want to think about why his cheeks were wet.

Was it true? Laurent made Damen stronger, sure. But Damen was drugged at dinner, taking a cup from a known enemy. And he didn't even notice until Laurent did. Would he have noticed? Or would he have gotten to the bottom of the cup and been used exactly as they had wanted? He shook his head at the unbearable thought. 

But Laurent took his motion as disagreement, and he tightened his hold on Damen's face. "It's true, Damen, okay? We can beat them, the two of us. We are stronger together."

He nodded his forehead against Damen's forcing Damen to nod along with him. Something in Damen strengthened with the movement until he was nodding on his own. 

"Stronger together," he finally agreed, and he pulled Laurent into a kiss.

Chapter Text

"Laurent?" Auguste's voice floated to them from the entrance to Laurent's rooms. "Fuck, Laurent!" Auguste rushed into the sitting room when he saw Laurent smeared with blood from his hair to the front of his jacket.

He ran past a still pacing Damen to pull Laurent into his arms and check him over, running careful fingers over his scalp and trying to find the source of all the blood, not knowing it was all from Damen's embrace. 

"What happened? I don't understand. Jord said there was an attack. But your guards were posted. Where are you hurt?"

"Auguste," Laurent tried to get his brother's attention over Auguste's frantic questions as he turned Laurent every which way, looking for something to fix. "Auguste! Stop fussing! I am fine. This is not my blood. None of it is. It is not even from the men that I fought. It is from Damen's fight. Search him over if you must fret."

Auguste finally stopped running his hands over Laurent, and looked over at Damen, acknowledging his presence for the first time after being overwhelmed with his brother.

"Also covered in blood," Auguste observed, still a little dumbstruck.

Damen shrugged. "Close distance weapons," he explained nonchalantly. 

Auguste was still glued to Laurent's side, arms circled around him. "Is any of it yours?"

"No," said Damen darkly, "I didn't leave any of my attackers alive. Laurent did, though."

Auguste shook his head as he looked back at his brother, trying once more to comb the dried blood out of his golden hair. "What happened?" he asked again. "Assassins? In your rooms? You had guards posted, and you were in here yourself. Were they lying in wait? How did they get in?"

"I am not sure," Laurent admitted. "Jord should come back with some answers soon. But they came in from the balcony. We were sitting in here and heard them enter -"

"They went straight for your bedroom?" Auguste interrupted again. "How many?"

Laurent patiently took his brother's questions, recounting the attack, and their fight.

Auguste blew out a big breath and turned to Damen. "For once I am glad that you were in my brother's chambers at night."

Damen, still flying high, emotions heightened, scrunched his brows. For once? What did that mean? Did Auguste always object to Damen being with Laurent?

Even clearer headed Laurent heard the qualification and rolled his eyes. "I told you I was taking him here, Auguste. He was drugged, and he needed looking after." Damen flushed again at the shame of drinking a known enemy's poison. Especially one with a history of poisoning. But no one noticed as Laurent continued on. "Paschal was here earlier. Will you condemn him too? What about the guards that gladly came to my room when I called for them?"

"Do not talk around me, brother," Auguste scolded. "Am I meant to believe bringing Paschal here was the only thing you did to 'look after' him?" he asked, nodding at Damen who was still flushed and trying his best not to be offended.

Laurent looked at his brother steadily, blinking once. "I can never tell if you actually want your questions answered or not."

Auguste sighed. "I do not."

"Well then," was all Laurent answered.

There was a knock on the door, and Jord's voice filtered through.

"Come in, Jord!" Laurent called.

Jord wasted no more time strolling through the door, and back to the sitting area where they were gathered.

"Well?" Laurent prompted, hungry for information. "Alphonse?"

Jord bowed his head, and shook it slightly. 

Laurent allowed himself a brief moment of shock before he shook it off along with his brother's hands and straightened his back. Damen felt a pang of sympathy for him and the guard. No traitor then.

"That is it, Auguste," Laurent said, as serious as Damen had ever heard him. "We cannot keep this quiet anymore. No more working from the shadows, we must act. Keeping the deaths of assassins quiet is one thing, they are meant to work in shadows. But a member of the Prince's guard is dead. One with a family who depended on our patronage. He will be missed, and more importantly he needs to be honored."

"What do you propose?" Auguste asked just as gravely. "We have nothing more concrete than we had a week ago. Is it enough?"

Laurent looked down at his hands that were tangling in his lap. They were still clean, unlike Damen's own which still needed the blood washed away. 

"We have a pile of circumstantial evidence that amounts to something," Laurent started, clearly not even convincing himself. "And we have two new captives from two new assassination attempts." Laurent looked up at his brother, determination in his eyes. "We can spend the rest of the night getting whatever we can out of them. Tomorrow we will honor Alphonse and his family as heroes of Vere. And after that, I will accuse uncle of treason and attempted nepoticide."

Auguste took a slow and steady breath and nodded his agreement, though concern still shone in his eyes. "Are you sure? You know I will not be able to help you. Not during the trial. I will need to appear impartial to be able to pass judgement. Every council vote will count, and we cannot afford for me to recuse myself. I will not be able to bring forward evidence myself, or accuse him outright. It will be up to you to face him." Auguste's look at Laurent held weight, as if he was passing it on for Laurent to carry on his own. He asked again, "are you sure you want to do this? You know uncle will not be kind to you."

Laurent accepted the weight with the same grace he always did. "I am. I do. It's time."

Auguste nodded again and put his hands on Laurent's shoulders to pull him into a fierce hug. "I know. I believe in you, little brother." He pulled away and took stock of Laurent's bloody chest once more, glancing at his own chest to see what had transferred. "You should probably change first though. How did that happen again?" 

Laurent scoffed. "Ask Damen. My take downs were clean."

Damen lifted his incriminating hands incredulously. "You had a sword! I had only a dagger. I also took three on, while you only took down two, and then let your guard restrain the prisoner."

Jord cleared his throat at the recounting. 

"Orlant and I could have been there for both of you had you called us before charging into the room."

Laurent looked almost offended by the chastisement. "What would you have had me do? Peek into the bedroom to see the violent interlopers, close the door quietly as if they would not have seen me, and then skip back to get you?"

Jord scoffed at the obvious sarcasm, but stopped short of rolling his own eyes. Always professional. "Yes, actually. Retreating back to your guards and only reinforcements is not a bad plan for the future."

"I'll keep it in mind," Laurent said in a tone that did have Jord half rolling his eyes before he caught himself again. Laurent focused his attention back in his brother. "Have Orlant bring the prisoner to a cell, but keep it quiet for now. Don't let anyone else see or speak to him. I will bathe, and then we can get started?"

Auguste nodded grimly, and Damen finally found his voice again. "Where do you need me?"

Auguste looked over his still gruesome personage.

"You should probably bathe as well."

Laurent jumped to his feet. "Wait. Let me give you something. Do not leave just yet."

Damen and Auguste watched, bewildered, as Laurent rushed into his bedroom, and Orlant was hurried out with the prisoner in tow.

When they glanced at each other, Auguste looked Damen up and down again. 

"Just sitting here when the assassins came, huh?"

Damen felt his guard go up, but he didn't have anything to hide. "When we heard them enter, yes. We were just sitting here talking, trying to distract me from my - predicament."

Seeing nothing but the truth in Damen, Auguste nodded again. "Probably lucky you weren't elsewise engaged."

Damen's thoughts turned dark again at the intent of the attack. "They were probably expecting something like that."

There was nothing but grim understanding on Auguste's face before Damen saw him consciously turn his thoughts away from the possibilities. 

"You know he's getting married in like a week."

The sudden subject change threw Damen off for a second, but he found he was too tired to fight with Auguste again. "I know."

But Auguste pushed. "And he's not going to want to..."

"I know," Damen said more firmly. At Auguste's raised eyebrows, he admitted, "he told me so himself."

Auguste seemed surprised at that, but just nodded again.

"Are you still going to -"

"I don't know," Damen said honestly. "I don't know if he'd still want to hear it from me at this stage, and..." Damen shrugged hopelessly. "I don't want to - add to.. everything else." His gesture encompassed the whole room, but also all of Vere and beyond.

Auguste set his mouth in a firm line. He seemed to war with himself before he opened it again. "I think -"

But Damen didn't get to hear what Auguste thought, and part of him wondered if he should be glad about that. Laurent had rushed back into the room, blood still matting the hair at the back of his head, but a clean shirt on. 

"Here," he said, thrusting something at Damen. 

Damen looked down and saw Laurent was handing him an undershirt. The one that he had just been wearing if the warmth and wrinkles were anything to go by. 

Damen took it, careful not to let the dried blood on his hands stain the garment.

"It's," Laurent started, and Damen lifted his eyes to face him once more, "well, it's going to be a long night. And you are still -" he once again gestured to Damen's form, "impaired." Damen flushed anew as he realized he was still erect, but Laurent kept talking before Damen could realize he was dismissing him. "You should get some sleep. I will not be able to -" Laurent's cheeks were pink now as well, "but, well, Paschal said a familiar scent can help. Sometimes."

Auguste was giving the shirt a shocked look, but when he raised his eyes back to Damen, they were resigned. 

Damen just clutched the shirt tighter, and hugged Laurent to his chest, hand going back to where he had already ruined Laurent's hair. 

"Thank you," he said into that hair. "You have already done so much."

When he pulled back, Laurent smiled sadly at him. "Sleep well, Damen," he said. "We will see you tomorrow."

Damen nodded, throat suddenly tight with emotion. He didn't want to leave, but Laurent was right. He was safe now, and Damen would be a better help to him after the drug had worn off and he got some sleep. He kissed Laurent on the forehead, nodded to Auguste, and turned away.

He clutched Laurent's shirt tight to him the whole way back to his rooms. After he bathed, and saw to himself once more, he laid that shirt on his pillow, and his head on the shirt, and slept deeply with his nose full of Laurent's scent.

--

Alphonse's funeral was extravagant.

Damen was shocked something like this could be pulled together in such a short time, but when he noticed some familiar flower arrangements, he realized Laurent had dipped into his wedding stash to make it happen.

When Laurent spoke of Alphonse, and sat with his family, Damen realized with a pang that Laurent had probably never lost one of his men before. Damen knew he had never been to war, not really, being too young when Vere was fighting Akielos, but it was sobering to realize Laurent had not had someone die for him yet. 

Damen knew the pain of it, feeling like it was your fault, even though you were innocent of the act itself. He had become almost dull to the feeling during the war, but he carried that pain in a different way - a bigger, more existential sorrow.

The guilt from losing a personal guard was more pointed. Being the only reason they were in the line of attack to begin with, it essentially felt like by hiring them, you traded their life for yours. It was a guilt that didn't fade with time. Laurent, with his soft heart, would feel it painfully. The grandness of Alphonse's funeral was a testament to it. 

Damen shouldn't have left last night, no matter how drugged up he was. Laurent needed him. He needed space to process and grieve, and he needed someone to hold him when the weight was unbearable.

Instead, Laurent had spent the night interrogating prisoners and readying himself for his own war. Damen knew the feeling of having to do something, anything, to make it right, but Laurent also needed to breathe. To sleep. To eat. At least Auguste had been beside him last night. And Damen promised himself he would be there tonight. Today. If he could just find Laurent again.

Alphonse’s ceremony was over, but the great hall was still filled with people milling about. Damen couldn't find Laurent anywhere in the crowd. He finally spotted Laurent out in the corridor, away from the commotion, but he was not alone. Nicaise was with him, both their heads bowed, speaking softly to each other. 

At least, Damen thought they were speaking softly. But as he got closer, he saw them getting more and more agitated. Laurent shook his head, reaching out, but Nicaise dodged the touch, and snarled in response. Laurent withdrew his hand, standing stiffly again, hands going behind his back to stop himself from trying again.

Nicaise didn't have the same reservations, and he crowded into Laurent's space, pointing a finger into Laurent's chest. When Laurent just stood there, unmoving, speaking quietly again, Nicaise threw his hands up and stormed away.

He almost barrelled right into Damen halfway down the corridor, lifting his head in a venomous glare before he realized who it was. Unable to stop himself from expressing his frustration, he exclaimed, "he will not allow me to be at the trial! He banned me!"

Damen, who was pretty sure Laurent hadn't even accused his uncle yet and that they definitely shouldn't be having this conversation out in the open, tried to quiet Nicaise the best he could. "I doubt it will even be public," he said, not knowing anything about Veretian trials.

Nicaise's eyes widened at him, clearly categorizing him as an opponent now. "That is not the reason and you know it. He doesn't think I can handle it! He thinks it will be too much for me,” Nicaise seethed. “He doesn't think he needs help! None of you think you need any help!"

"He just wants to protect you," Damen tried again, trying to steer Nicaise somewhere more private. People were still streaming up and down this hall.

But Nicaise shook off his attempts just as he had Laurent's. "Oh, because he did such a fine job of protecting me when it mattered!" 

Damen winced. He actually thought Laurent did an admirable job of trying to protect all of his uncle's victims, but he knew he couldn't say that to Nicaise. And he knew Nicaise was still a victim.

Nicaise scoffed anyway, imagining Damen's response. He stomped away again, still yelling much too loud. "He needs help! You all need help! Typical for everyone to leave it to the commoner to do all the real work around here!" 

Damen watched him go until he was out of sight, and Laurent had come up to his side.

“He's upset,” Laurent said, still watching where Nicaise had disappeared. 

“I see that,” Damen answered, finally looking down at Laurent, and having Laurent look back at him.

“I just think,” Laurent started, clearly feeling the need to explain himself, “that the less he has to do with - all this, the better. Why torture himself listening to my uncle try to talk his way out of the charges and justify himself?”

Why, indeed, Damen thought to himself, thinking about Laurent, but instead he said, “he is already involved though, is he not? Through no fault of his own.”

Laurent winced, and Damen wanted to take back his words, despite their truth. 

“You think I should allow him to be there. To speak out against my uncle if he chooses,” Laurent said, but it didn't necessarily sound like an accusation as much as an honest question. 

Damen shrugged, as he really didn't know how Veretian trials worked, and who was allowed to speak. Auguste had said he couldn't bring forth accusations as part of the voting council, but could anyone else?

“I think you probably know best about what to expect at the trial,” he deflected, “and about how it feels to accuse him publicly.”

Laurent hummed, his eyes telling Damen his thoughts were a million miles away. Damen wanted to take him in his arms to ground him in the present reality, but courtiers and mourners were still crowding the hallway, occasionally shooting them curious looks.

“Brother,” Auguste's voice shook Laurent out of his occupied thoughts, and Damen looked up to see him approaching with Alaia on his arm. They were both giving Laurent sympathetic looks. “I've informed the council that you have requested an urgent meeting. Do you want to go back in to… make any final goodbyes?”

Laurent's expression flashed painfully for a second before he wiped it of any emotion. The three of them saw it though, even if none of them chose to comment on it. 

“Yes,” he finally said simply. “Let's go.”

And they all solemnly followed him back into the great hall to say goodbye.

–

Laurent and Auguste disappeared into the council chambers shortly after that. Alaia had given Laurent a gentle squeeze on the arm and a quick kiss on the cheek before he left, and Damen had given him a nod that didn't say even a fraction of what he wanted to say.

Damen couldn't stand the thought of being far apart from him at this stage though, so after he broke away from the hall, he hovered outside of the council chamber to offer his support and presence when he could. 

Quicker than he expected, Laurent's uncle stormed out of the room, Laurent calmly following. Before the door swung shut, Damen saw Auguste trying to calm the rest of the council down.

"You think you have won already, nephew, but you do not have anything to back up your outrageous claims," the uncle sneered, unaware of Damen for the moment. "Not wanting you to suck my cock anymore isn't a reason to accuse me of treason."

Laurent's face was a blank mask again as he regarded his uncle coolly. "No, but trying to kill Auguste and me certainly is."

"It is a baseless claim," the uncle said again. "I have no idea what happened to you and that Akielon oaf last night."

Using his mention as the time to step in, Damen made himself known, and aligned himself next to Laurent. 

The uncle acknowledged Damen, but pointed his lethal smile directly at Laurent. "Apparently even drugged he won't fuck you anymore," he said, words dripping venom. "You truly have lost all appeal."

Laurent stood straight and appeared unaffected as his uncle stalked off with that final bitter word, but he sagged into Damen when he was finally out of sight. 

Damen took his weight, grateful to be there, and rubbed his back. "It is done then?" he asked softly. "You accused him?"

Laurent let out a humorless laugh. "It is far from done, but yes, I formally accused him. He will be held under arrest in his rooms due to the severity of the accusation until his trial tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Damen asked, surprised. "So soon?"

"Yes," Laurent sighed, straightening to take his own weight again, much to Damen's dismay. "I requested it that way, and most of the council agreed, not seeing an unfair advantage for me with the attack only happening last night. But I did not want him to have the time to build a convincing defense. Auguste and I have been building the case against him for years, and we already have everything that we are going to have. We just have to hope it is enough. And that the rumors we have been spreading for the past few weeks have weakened his support enough that one or two of the councilors in his pocket will turn on him."

Damen shifted his hand on Laurent's back to squeeze his forearm. Not much time then. "What can I do? Let me help this time."

Laurent gave him a weak smile. "How do you feel about another late night transcribing what we do have, and sorting the information by date and source?"

Damen returned a stronger smile, interlacing their fingers. "I'll bring the coffee." And he kissed Laurent's temple in the still empty hallway. 

--

The next day, a herald announced the trial, and the council descended on the throne room to hear the arguments. The trial turned out to be public after all, though it seemed Nicaise had decided not to come regardless, and the room filled quickly with nosy Veretians given the high profiles of the accused and accuser.

Damen, tired but still up early, sat up front next to Alaia and Nikandros, both of whom also spent the previous night in Laurent's rooms pouring over years worth of documentation accumulated by the brothers. It was astonishing how much Laurent and Auguste had found on their uncle, and it made Damen's stomach twist to think about all they had been dealing with on their own.

What made Damen want to throw up, however, was that it was uncertain how much of it the council would accept as ‘evidence,’ as a lot of the more tangible things were suspicious more than damning, and many of the sources had inexplicably gone missing over the years. Which was also suspicious, but not damning.

Alaia had Soha on her lap, who was trying to sleep, but finding it difficult with Alaia’s knee incessantly bouncing under her. A well timed swipe brought Alaia back to herself, and she settled her knee, focusing on stroking Soha instead. Satisfied, Soha settled back in, unbothered by the anxious atmosphere around her. 

"A little... extravagant, no?" Empress Vishkar said from Alaia's other side. She was looking around the still filling room, the crowd barely containing their whispers, the council on an elevated platform, and the accused in a throne looking chair at the center of it all. "For a treason trial?"

"It's Vere," Makedon scoffed from her other side. "Any excuse for a show. In Akielos, it is the king's word alone that is needed to judge if the crown is betrayed or not. Or he could order a duel between the accused and the accuser if he desired instead."

"Hm," the empress hummed, sparing Makedon a look, "that too seems unseemly."

Alaia snorted, for once unconcerned with diplomacy, while Makedon sputtered about Vask's own depravities. 

Damen was too tired to step in for the sake of foreign relations, but luckily Auguste had stood up, drawing everyone in the crowd to a hush. To Damen's relief, Auguste gave a brief synopsis of how the trial would run. He explained the accusations brought against his uncle in the barest words possible, adding no inflection that could be construed as bias. He said they would hear any and all complaints against the accused, and that the accused would then be able to defend himself against all allegations. Only then would the council deliberate on a judgement.

"A spectacle, then," the empress muttered, and Makedon nodded his agreement. 

When Auguste sat back down at the center of the raised platform, Laurent was the first to rise and step forward. 

A few gasps rang out through the crowd, and Damen caught himself rolling his eyes. He was beginning to see why eye rolling and shrugging were so prominent amongst Veretians. Their customs practically begged it of them. It was not a secret who the initial allegations had come from. This is what they had all come here to see. 

Damen didn't dwell on it, however, because his entire attention was taken by Laurent as he began to speak. He looked heartbreakingly beautiful, as he always did, even though he could've only gotten a couple hours of sleep last night, if he even allowed himself that. Damen, Nikandros, Alaia, and even Auguste all looked a little worse for wear in their current state of sleep deprivation, but somehow, Laurent still radiated beauty to the farthest reaches of the room.

Damen knew Laurent had always suffered from bouts of insomnia. And he had told Auguste he wasn't sleeping well lately, didn't he? Maybe this was just what Laurent looked like tired. Wait, Damen thought to himself, suddenly thunderstruck. Maybe this is just what Laurent looks like tired. Damen stared as he wondered if Laurent could possibly get even more gorgeous after a good night's sleep or two. But no, that was impossible. Damen had seen Laurent laugh unabashedly, and he knew in his heart that that was the pinnacle of beauty the world could create.

As his mind wandered further down that rabbit hole, Damen briefly wondered if he was drugged again. But then he remembered he hadn't even had breakfast today. It had to be just the sleep deprivation then. He needed to focus.

Laurent's uncle had started talking. He was batting away Laurent's first claim for some reason Damen was still catching up to, and some of the councillors were nodding. Damen saw a flash of annoyance on Laurent's face, finally an indication of his own tired state, but it quickly disappeared, leaving him looking unbothered again. Damen had to hope it was genuine. 

Laurent stayed standing for a long time. He was mesmerizing, his tone serious, yet engaging as he laid out his arguments. He wove through years and people and locations, drawings lines and connections for the crowd to follow. He was born for this, for politics, as much as he always tried to avoid being front and center. 

His uncle stayed seated in his throne at the center, looking almost bored as he responded to each accusation with a dismissal, and a shot at Laurent's competency or mental state. He tried to play the concerned guardian, even under fire, questioning why Laurent would attack his own family. Damen wanted to rage at the irony.

As the trial went on, Damen thought he was beginning to see who on the council was in the uncle's pockets by paying attention to who nodded along with him, or who motioned to dismiss the evidence Laurent was presenting too early, or who just barely held back a laugh at the little jibes the uncle was firing at Laurent. Guion and Juerre, definitely, in line with what Laurent had already told him. Maybe Audin? Damen resolved to watch him closer as the trial unraveled.

Laurent weathered it all with his usual grace, no sign of strain in his perfect posture. He was subtle without being unclear. If he couldn't reach the council members, he was going to make sure the entire crowd behind him drew the conclusions he was leading them to. He hardly spared a glance in his uncle's direction as his listed his crimes, even as his uncle's gaze was doing its very best to bore holes into the side of his head. 

But after near an hour of the back and forth, the crowd was growing restless. Though Laurent's tale was one of deceit, violence, and betrayal, there was no shock or outrage from the spectators. Perhaps these were traits they already associated with typical Veretian royal family members. 

Damen glanced beside him. Alaia's lips were white, but her hand on Soha was steady. The empress appeared tired of the trial already, fixating her glare at the raised council members for not ending this farce before now.

When Damen turned to Nik, he found his friend watching Laurent carefully. Even though Nik had heard most of Laurent's speech last night, Damen sensed a tension in his body that was ready to spring into a fight if one should arise. 

Because he was watching him, Damen saw the tic in Nik's sword hand when Laurent's next accusation was the attempted assassination of himself and his fiancée. There was a tangible shift in the crowd, and the new charge was a present entity. This was new and titillating information. It was the first blood scented in the water, and the sharks were circling. 

"What?!" Empress Vishkar had stood up, and was glaring directly at Auguste. "A daughter of the empire was attacked under your roof, and I was not told? That is an outrageous offence against Vask."

The crowd erupted, revelling in the drama, but Auguste was in full King mode like Damen had never seen him before, and he held his hand up to stop the noise.

He addressed the empress directly. "This is not my trial. Alaia was not held under duress, and her story and voice are her own, as they always will be in Vere. Talk to your countrywoman. You can try me for international crimes after this if you like."

"Do not think we won't," the empress warned as she allowed herself to be pulled down by Alaia who was whispering urgently in her ear.

Makedon's eyes were sparkling with amusement at the unexpected antics, he fit in with the Veretian crowd more than he would probably like to admit, but they dimmed and sharpened as Laurent submitted Alaia's statement as evidence. 

The details of the Akielon weapons, armor, and language being spoken earned Akielos and specifically Damen some suspicious looks, even without his own dagger being mentioned. The empress had stopped listening to Alaia's pleas, and was looking murderously at Damen instead. 

Damen knew he should be acting outraged at the accusation there, but all he could do was shake his head with wide eyes as half his attention was still on Laurent continuing to speak over the din.

"Come now, nephew what is this?" The uncle cut through the noise. "Now I'm commanding Akielon armies to kill Vaskian house guests? For what, sport? Surely this story of yours has gone on long enough. The simplest answer is usually the correct one, and it is obvious that Akielos is against a Veretian union with Vask. It puts them in a vulnerable position on the continent, not to mention their crown prince's personal claim on -"

"You are ignoring the other language spoken during the attack. When the would be assassins realized Malik could not understand Akielon they switched easily and flawlessly to Vaskian."

The uncle shrugged. "So a border town. I happen to know the Kyros of Delpha arrived extraordinarily early for the celebrations. That's suspicious enough in itself right there." The uncle had clearly found a point he wanted to press, and Damen was desperately trying to see his motivations as Nik agitated beside him. Laurent looked like he expected this line of attack, and was ready to counter when the uncle switched tack again. "You are too fast and loose with your affections, nephew, leaving scorned lovers scattered across the continent. Some more dangerous than others," he added, nodding in Damen's direction.

Nik shifted beside Damen like he almost stood up before thinking better of it. It felt like all eyes in the room were suddenly on the two of them. Well, all eyes except Laurent's and his uncle's who were staring at each other, and Damen's and Nik's who were very much avoiding staring at each other.

Laurent grit his teeth. "Except that the Akielon crown prince was drugged later that very night. With a Veretian drug. Verified here by the palace physician." Laurent handed another scroll to the council for review.

Laurent's uncle's lips tipped up in a smirk. "A barbarian over indulging in a pleasure drug is hardly a surprise."

"I never said what drug it was," Laurent snapped back, triumphant. 

"Just a guess," his uncle shrugged back, inviting others in on the joke. "Am I right? Akielons love to fuck and fight. One not more than the other. It would not be the first time one of them took more than they could handle with their own limited knowledge of medicine. I've been asked dozens of times for that specific Veretian drug since they've come here."

"This was not an accidental overdose," Laurent pushed. "It was given to him unknowingly."

"And yet he ended up right in our own crown prince's rooms. How extraordinary. How lucky."

"Yes, it was lucky the physician decided to treat him there, because we were attacked that same night."

"And yet not a scratch on the Akielon. Even apparently drugged out of his already limited mind. Very lucky indeed."

Damen was starting to believe that Laurent was playing directly into his uncle's hand.

"Well I guess it is most lucky that we do not have to make guess work of it. We can take the word of the attackers directly."

There was a flicker of surprise on the uncle's face before he masked it into confusion. Laurent noticed, and responded with his own smirk.

"You see, Uncle, we did not kill all of the assassins as you may have thought. There are two in our dungeons that have a lot of interesting things to say. With four witnesses to corroborate their testimonies." Laurent pulled another scroll from his table to hand to the council. Herode unfurled it curiously.

The uncle rolled his eyes again, returning to his insouciant act. "Because the words of assassins are so reputable." 

Laurent continued to talk over him. "We imprisoned one attacker from each attempt, and jailed them separately with no knowledge of each other. They were interrogated into the night, and it was astounding how much of their stories matched, especially once they dropped their original lines."

"Another tale of woe and sympathy for poor Prince Laurent to eat up, I'm sure," the uncle interjected. Laurent ignored his uncle's commentary and dove into the facts.

"The men are Vaskian. Free tribes. Their orders came in Akielon, but there was a promise of Veretian cooperation. They were promised a war that would leave more Delfeur territory to the free tribes. And to assure their path would be unhindered once they got to the palace, they were given a token of good will. A signet ring from Aleron's house. There are only three like it, and it was described perfectly. Auguste and I still have ours."

Chatter broke out amongst the crowd, and Damen held his breath as he awaited the fall out. He stopped himself from looking at Empress Vishkar to see how she was taking the new claim of Vaskian involvement in all of this.

The threat of war and destruction was exciting for the trial, but still didn't make sense to Damen. It was something discussed ad nauseum last night. What was the advantage to Laurent's uncle for starting a war with Akielos? Why involve two other countries in what was essentially a family dispute? He remembered racking his tired brain for answers, and he remembered a lot of significant eye contact from Nik imploring him to put something together, but in the end he decided the why was not as important as the what in this case. 

"Absolute drivel," the uncle sneered, bored mask off. "What lies you spread so plainly, nephew. How long did you have to spend on your knees to get them to say such a fabrication? You love to collect sycophants for your talents. At least one from every country, right?"

At some point in the back and forth, Damen had taken Alaia's hand. Or maybe she took his, he truthfully didn't even remember how it happened. But they sat together now in solidarity, watching the man they loved fight for his life. Damen squeezed particularly hard at this jab, causing her to wince. Damen immediately released his hold on her, but she just rearranged their fingers to hold his hand more comfortably. She looked up at him then, eyeing him carefully.

“You love him,” she said quietly, just between them. Not an accusation, but not a question either. She knew then.

Damen nodded. Laurent probably wouldn't appreciate his honesty here, a week before his wedding, but Damen didn't have it in him to lie. Not about this. Not about Laurent.

“As do you,” he said gently back. 

Alaia’s eyebrows shot up before scrunching together. She hesitated a moment before squeezing his hand back and returning his nod.

“I do,” she answered, serious. 

Damen's heart twisted, but their attention was caught by what else is happening at the trial.

Laurent's uncle had moved fully from defending himself to counterattacking Laurent, and he was not standing on the decorum Vere was so proud of.

"Did you steal my ring yourself to help your narrative?" he spit. "A prop for you to wield against me? Did you take it from my rooms when no one was looking, skulking around on your hands and knees like a desperate whore? Been a while, hasn't it? Did it bring back memories of -"

It was Alaia's turn to squeeze Damen's hand harshly. Auguste was rising and speaking sharply to cut off his uncle's filthy speech, ready to protect his brother at all cost to his attempted appearance of neutrality. But a scuffle was breaking out at the door to the great hall, causing everyone to turn their heads, distracted from the scene.

All of the sudden, Nicaise broke through the line of guards, brandishing something in his hand. 

"I have evidence! I have evidence the king needs to see!" 

Shocked by the unexpected entrance, but loving the drama of it all, the crowd burst into murmurs again, guessing at the context.

The uncle had regained some of his composure in the confusion and his voice cut through the excited crowd in a bored drawl once again. "I do not think the word of a child whore is acceptable evidence."

"Not a whore," said the Madame who was sweeping into the room at Nicaise's heels. Her steps were hurried, but her face and set of her shoulders made it seem like she was just strolling in to accept an invitation to tea. "He is a personal assistant to an esteemed business owner." She flourished her hand to indicate herself, and took the sheaf of papers off Nicaise. "My day to day manager, if you will. He was attempting to collect payment for me when a certain customer tried to bargain with this instead of coin."

Damen thought he heard a lie there. He looked up to see a quick glance between Auguste and Laurent, which confirmed this was a surprise to them too. Their uncle had watched the Madame's entrance, but switched to narrow an intimidating stare on Nicaise, who was studiously avoiding his eye.

"And what do you have for us?" Auguste finally asked into the tense standoff, using the new development to excuse his standing.

"Nephew," the uncle interrupted. "You can't really be -"

"Letters," the Madame answered over the uncle. "Letters from a man to his brother confessing to killing the late king and queen," (more gasps), "and speaking of his paranoia that he was being hunted. Letters between that same man and the accused with details that match the plot confessed in the others."

"Forgeries," the uncle scoffed. "Nephew, you cannot -"

"Uncle, desist." Auguste called out, stepping forward. "You have not even seen them to dispute them. If you do not allow for a free and fair trial, you will be quarantined without defense for the remainder."

"You cannot just take any tampered piece of paper from any gutter rat with a grudge!" the uncle continued his complaint in defiance of Auguste's warning.

"Despite the closed doors, it is still a public trial, uncle," Auguste said. "Anyone can submit evidence for the council to review and verify. That has always been our law. Please, ma'am, give them here."

The Madame finished her walk to the council's raised platform, and handed the letters directly over to Auguste, relaxing almost imperceptibly when they were in his hands. Even Nicaise seemed to deflate with relief at the exchange, as if he had expected them to burst into flame before anyone could read them. The uncle was glaring daggers at Nicaise now, and Damen was certain he wanted to turn those into literal daggers soon.

After skimming the contents with a grim face, Auguste handed the sheaf over to Herode, the council elder, who took out his glasses to read the pages. 

Herode looked up with raised eyebrows when he finished the first set, and passed the papers to Juerre while he dug into the second. 

The uncle protested the inclusion of these documents the whole time, and was finally silenced when Herode removed his glasses and held up his hand to speak.

"These are serious accusations indeed," he said gravely, pinning his watery blue stare on Laurent's uncle. "These letters claim that Queen Hennike was poisoned, and King Aleron's carriage accident was manipulated. The writer fears for his life as a loose end, and is attempting to clear his conscience before he is lost by writing his crimes down to his brother, who he asks to pray for him, as the only one who will be wont to do so. He names the late king's brother as the conspirator, and a man, Govart, who he suspected to be likely to carry out the killing."

"A letter!" the uncle exclaimed. "From a dead man who cannot speak for himself. How do we know this was not drafted by another just to frame me?"

"I can confirm the authenticity," came a voice from the crowd, causing another ridiculous gasp as they turned their heads to the source. The physician Paschal stood alone in the middle of the crowd to give his statement. "Those letter are intended for me, penned by my brother. I can verify both his signature and his penmanship. I have others that you can compare it to if it is necessary." He looked directly at Laurent, and then Auguste, to say, "Your Majesties, I am very sorry I did not come forward sooner with these, but the letters were quickly stolen from my possession, and I did not dare make such an accusation without proof."

Laurent nodded his acceptance of Paschal's words, but Auguste's response was disapproving.

"Thank you for the corroboration. We will address your inaction at later time." 

"They are just words on a page!" The uncle interrupted again. "What proof is there that this is not the writing of a raving lunatic?"

"The second sheaf of letters, I would guess," Juerre offered, "penned by your own hand, which I can confirm myself." The uncle looked murderous at Juerre's input. Damen would wager based on that reaction alone that Juerre had been recently aligned with the uncle, and that this was an act of betrayal at a most critical time. "They speak of herbs and dosages and broken axles that when compared to the claims of the first letters, and what we ourselves know of the events, are... certainly suspicious."

"Suspicious?" Chelaut chimed in, having just had the letters handed to him. "I would go so far as to call it 'telling.'"

There were murmurs of agreement from the other council members and Damen could see on the uncle's face he realized he was losing his backing in real time. He did not rage, however. He sat there, regally as ever, in silence, which was perhaps the most telling thing yet. 

"Shall we vote?" Auguste said calmly into the whispered exchanges of the crowd.

When every hand rose in agreement of a guilty verdict, neither Laurent nor his uncle flinched. They didn't react at all. The only visible reaction from the small group at the center of the room was Nicaise's big, bright grin. 

Chapter Text

In the flurry of activity that followed the trial, Laurent disappeared. Damen glimpsed him and Nicaise in the crowded corridor exchanging a long hug and some quiet words, but afterwards, Nicaise walked out of the palace without looking back, and Damen lost sight of Laurent.

He was nowhere to be seen at the execution either, where it was all Damen could do to exchange a grim look with Auguste. And he wasn't present at the subdued feast they still had to host afterwards, since they still had so many guests present for the summit and the wedding to provide for.

Damen could empathize with how bizarre it must feel for Auguste and Laurent to have the entire continent present for the fallout of their family's and country's inner turmoil. Auguste, as king, seemed to have taken on the role of keeping up the front for the crowd, while Laurent was left alone to process the events in solitude. Alaia, then, was the only comforting presence at the high table for the melancholy Auguste. Vishkar sat with her tribe tonight, and Damen slipped out early once he realized Laurent was again not present. 

After an unsuccessful trip to the stables where Damen found Laurent's mare sleeping peacefully in her stall, he wandered Laurent's favorite gardens outside the palace, hoping to see a glimpse of pale hair glittering in the evening light. He was rewarded with the sight of it when he looked above one of his favorite fountains, up at the balcony he knew to be attached to Laurent's rooms.

Laurent was leaning against the stone railing, not looking at anything in particular, brooding like only a true Veretian could. The sight still stopped Damen's heart, Laurent looking as lovely in reflection as he did any other time. Inspired, Damen took quick inventory of the stone wall beneath the balcony, and made an impulsive decision. He wanted more than anything to pull a smile from Laurent tonight, and he was going to use nostalgia from their earliest courting stage to do it. 

After a quick consultation with Henrí, the guard stationed below the balcony, Damen began to climb, a silly grin on his face, imagining Laurent's reaction when Damen's head popped over the very railing he was brooding against.

Oof, this was harder than Damen remembered. He should have stretched. Or worn his sandals with the better grip. Or maybe barefoot was the way to go? He swore he used to be able to do this climb in his sleep. He did it more often than not in the middle of the night afterall. Why was this so difficult now?

"What the hell are you doing?" came Laurent's voice from above before Damen was ready.

Damen pulled back from the wall enough to point his grin at the man of his affections and efforts. "Impressing you," he replied cheekily.

"You know scaling the wall to my balcony just days after we were attacked from said balcony is mad, right?"

Damen frowned at Laurent's seriousness. "I passed it by Henrí first!" he protested. He chanced a glance down at the guard below him just in time to see him wave up at Laurent, and then heard Laurent's signature sigh from above again. 

"You know," Laurent said again, "if you fell and broke your neck, Akielos would be stuck with Kastor and Jokaste as its rulers."

"Meh," Damen said, picking his next foothold carefully, and brushing off the danger. "Akielos could do worse. Besides, Henrí said he would catch me."

"Mm," Laurent hummed, sounding unconvinced as Damen continued his treacherous climb. He moved back as Damen finally crested over the stone railing, less triumphantly than he had imagined, and pulled his body over until he had both feet back on solid ground.

"You used to be more impressed by my balcony climbing abilities," Damen said off-handedly as he dusted himself off.

Laurent rolled his eyes, but Damen finally saw some humor in them again. Damen's heart soared to see some of the little mannerisms he loved so much return to Laurent's face. The climb was worth it then.

"I was young, Damen," Laurent expressed sarcastically. "The way your biceps flexed when you adjusted your laurels used to impress me."

"You never told me that!" Damen exclaimed with a shocked but delighted grin.

"Did I not?" Laurent tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes now. "I didn't realize I had a last shred of dignity to lose. Oh well, there it goes."

Damen couldn't stop smiling, and when Laurent's face cracked in amusement too, he couldn't stop from kissing him either. 

Laurent relaxed as Damen embraced him, and Damen lingered, kissing his forehead before he looked down at him in his arms.

"How are you really?"

Laurent looked up, a little dazed from the kiss, but still lucid. "Fine, I guess. I thought I would feel something big when my uncle died but I just feel... Tired."

"It was a long time coming," Damen soothed, running his hands up and down Laurent's arms. "I'm sure it will settle in over the next few days."

"Maybe," Laurent shrugged. "I didn't even watch him die, so I guess it hasn't sunk in that he is really gone. I didn't want him to have any more importance in our lives. I told Auguste to just have some nameless executioner behead him and be done with it."

Damen didn't know how to respond to that statement after witnessing the act for himself. "Huh," he said, in place of anything else.

Damen's non-reply got Laurent's attention anyway, and he stepped a little away to eye Damen critically. "He didn't listen did he?"

"Who?" Damen asked, just to buy himself a moment.

"Auguste." Laurent answered, unimpressed.

"Um, no," Damen admitted.

"He was there?" Laurent asked, curious more than anything now.

Damen watched Laurent carefully as he told him the truth. "He swung the sword himself."

Laurent's eyes went wide for a second before he looked up and away and sighed. "That sounds like him. I guess we all have our own versions of justice."

Damen tucked Laurent back into his side. He was privately happy to see Auguste mete out the punishment. It felt poetic to him, but he understood Laurent's need to distance himself from it.

Damen himself had watched the act from the front row just to sear into his brain that the man responsible for years of the brothers' anguish and torment was finally and truly gone and rotting somewhere he could never reach them again. He thought Laurent might appreciate that fact later. If and when that monster ever visited him in his dreams again, Damen could remind him that he had been there. He had personally seen the man's head detach from his body. And after everything, he was just a man who could die like any other. 

"Stay with me tonight?"

Lost in his bloodsoaked thoughts, it took Damen a second to blink down at Laurent and register the question.

"Here?" He clarified as his head cleared.

"Yes," said Laurent simply. "I want something selfish tonight. Trial today, funeral tomorrow, wedding soon after. For tonight, just this once, I want to do something just because I want to."

Damen curled Laurent into him and fit their foreheads together before he nodded. "Okay," he said as his hand skated up to the back of Laurent's neck. He wanted to give Laurent that and so much more. He didn't know how to express all that he wanted to give though, so he just said a simple, "I'm with you," as he sealed their lips together, kiss full of the promises he couldn't voice. 

The kiss was soft and languid, but as Damen started backing Laurent up into his bedroom, it heated with every step. Damen thrilled at the fact that he could still lead Laurent backward and blind like this, and Laurent would go willingly, even eagerly. Their trust in each other never wavered, no matter the time or distance or circumstance.

Damen's fingers trailed up Laurent's sternum to play with the laces at his throat. He pulled back to seek permission before unraveling them. Laurent gave it with a nod, and then pulled at Damen's lion pin to release his chiton in a whispering wave down his chest, pulling at the tie at his waist to fully expose Damen's skin.

Damen chuckled as he continued to work on the laces over Laurent's chest at a steady pace. "This part always seems so uneven."

"What part?" Laurent asked distracted by running his fingers over the lines of Damen's shoulders and collarbone.

"When I'm naked and you still have like seven layers to take off," Damen said pointedly.

Laurent's hands had moved to Damen's chest. "Mm, I think it might be my favorite part."

"You can't be serious," Damen protested, hands quickly reaching Laurent's abdomen.

"I am," Laurent insisted. "Makes me think I understand a little bit of what you might have been interested in with bedding slaves." Laurent's hands were getting distractingly lower, and Damen had to force his attention to stay on the laces. He couldn't get the jacket off Laurent's arms without loosening the ones at his wrists first.

Damen shook his head, knowing Laurent wasn't being serious. "I don't think slaves typically look like me." 

"I don't know," Laurent teased, hands still wandering, "there was that one of Nikandros' -"

"Laurent, stop," Damen pleaded, not able to hear any more about what Laurent noticed at Nikandros'.

"Yes, master," Laurent responded automatically, hands going straight back up to Damen's shoulders.

Damen shook his head again as he fought a grin at the action. "I thought I was supposed to be the slave."

Laurent shrugged as Damen finally slipped his jacket off those shoulders and over his arms. "It's fluid."

Damen laughed as he ogled Laurent in just his soft shirt and pants. He rewarded himself for finishing the hardest part by indulging in another sweet kiss. "Just me and you tonight, okay?"

Laurent looked up at him softly. "Just us."

Damen steered Laurent back again until he sat on the edge of the bed. Damen sank to his knees and eyed the new barriers in front of him.

"Ugh, boots."

Laurent gasped. "I thought you liked my boots!"

Damen smiled as he started working on the left one. "I do, usually. But right now I'm thinking about taking a knife to them."

"Don't you dare," Laurent threatened. He reached down. "Here, let me help."

"Absolutely not," Damen scolded, capturing Laurent's hands and placing them back at Laurent's sides. "Hands stay on the mattress. Let me take care of you tonight."

A blush rose in Laurent's cheeks at the demand, and Damen felt his own blood heat as a result. He turned his valiant focus onto the task at hand and made quick work of the offending boots, while being over-aware of the cadence of Laurent's breaths.

He took care of Laurent's shirt next, pausing to steal another kiss after he pulled the soft fabric over Laurent's head, pushing the mussed hair out of his lovely face. 

His lips trailed down to Laurent's jaw as his hands found the laces at his waist by heart, working them open by muscle memory alone. When they had fully given way, he pulled back to check in one more time.

"You're sure?" he asked, holding his breath for the answer.

Laurent rolled his eyes, pulling another grin from Damen. "Yes, Damen. I am sure. Please make love to me now."

Feeling like he had just been granted access to the gardens of the Gods themselves, Damen shucked Laurent's pants and undergarments down his legs at the same time. When he was done he looked up at Laurent's fully naked form before him, breath catching in his throat. 

"You're beautiful," was all he could say in the moment. 

Laurent's blush and shy smile made it seem like it was enough and never enough at the same time. 

"Come here," he said, encouraging Damen to move with his words. Damen noticed Laurent's hands still gripping the mattress at his sides, ever dutiful, and his desire ramped up to an overwhelming degree. 

With one hand on Laurent's knee, and the other circling his calf, Damen moved up his body, placing reverent kisses as he went, making sure to hit all the spots he knew to be sensitive. 

Laurent's hands shook as he moved up to his hip bone, finally slipping and gripping Damen's hair to steady himself as his breath hitched in his throat. 

Damen smiled against the skin, having gotten the reaction he was waiting for. "You're breaking our rule already," he teased.

Laurent's grip tightened briefly at his scalp before he released it and flopped dramatically back onto the mattress with his hands surrendering overhead. "Fine," he sighed, "you win."

Damen couldn't hide his smile as he climbed over Laurent's offered body. "Mm, good boy," he growled as he dragged his lips over Laurent's torso.

Laurent tried to stay pliant, but the tightening of his stomach and quick breaths gave away his rapidly increasing desire.

Damen was making a meal out of Laurent's chest when Laurent finally found his voice again. 

"Damen," he gasped, "don't leave marks -"

“- above the collar, I know” Damen finished for him, nosing up Laurent's neck and scraping his teeth tantalizingly over the sensitive skin there. “But your collars are so high…”

"No," Laurent bit out between pants, "no marks. Anywhere."

Damen slowed his work on Laurent's neck. He was happy to oblige whatever request his lover had, but the new boundary made him curious. "Okay," he agreed readily, "you know I will do anything you ask of me. But... why the rule change? Did something happen?"

Still blanketing Laurent's body, Damen watched him avoid his eyes with a sense of impending dread.

"I am getting married in less than a week," Laurent told the ceiling. "And there's the - consummation. I can't - it would be disrespectful to come marked by someone else."

Suddenly picturing it, it felt like a bucket of ice water had just been poured over Damen's head. He scrambled up, off of Laurent, hardly noticing Laurent's oof when his elbow grazed his chest. His body felt foreign, like there wasn't any gravity to it, and his limbs felt like there was nothing to tether them down. He quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed, and put his feet on the cold floor to ground himself. His breathing felt like it was getting stopped in his throat, his lungs at capacity and rejecting any attempt of forcing more air in.

He tried to focus on as many points of contact as he could - feet on the ground, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair as he tried to slow his thoughts to something manageable. Laurent was getting married. He had known that of course, had known that since receiving the invitation in his father's office, but... It had seemed like a hypothetical then, a possible far away future. One of many, and definitely not the preferred one. Confronting the fact it was real, that it was happening, and soon, was too much. Enough to cause Damen's body to malfunction.

Distantly, Damen was aware of another point of contact. A hand on his back. Someone telling him to breathe. Laurent. Laurent, who in just a few days, wouldn't be his. Who would belong to someone else. Someone else who would see Laurent like this, passionate, soft. Someone who would get to know his body, and have the right to mark him possessively.

Damen felt arms wrap around his shoulders, giving him more pressure to focus on. Heard his name on a familiar tongue. Felt a temple rest on one shoulder, breath ghosting along his skin. Damen's limbs started to unlock. They came back to him heavy, requiring ten times the amount of energy to move them. He lifted his head from his hands, eyes still unfocused. Laurent shuffled closer, knees digging into his side. Damen let one hand drop to grip one of those knees, and lifted the other hand to grip the circle of arms around him.

The circle grew tighter, then loosened. A cup was presented to his lips, and he focused on it, taking slow sips of the cool water to calm his pulse. Laurent's voice floated overhead, the sound of it penetrating, but not the meaning. 

Laurent kissed the shoulder his head was resting on, and Damen's thoughts became tangible things. Another kiss, same shoulder, and they finally distilled into one unavoidable fact.

"So you are going to go through with it?" Damen asked, voice quiet, looking at his own knees. "Marriage. I never pictured you marrying -" someone else, he thought, "a woman."

Laurent snorted lightly, and the heavy press on Damen's chest loosened just slightly. He looked at Laurent expecting the amusement in his expression, but not the tenderness overwhelming it. It almost unravelled him all over again, but when Laurent spoke, he spoke softly, gently.

"That seems to be the most shocking part to most people," he said, eyes so kind it hurt.

Mind whirring with unwelcome thoughts, Damen spoke before he could think better of it, "I didn't know you - have you ever - I mean, can you -"

Thankfully, Laurent's soft laughter cut him off before he could embarrass himself further. "I know what you are thinking. The truth is I hadn't been with a woman before."  

The past tense of that statement stood out like a glaring red banner in Damen's mind. And once again, his mouth moved before he could stop himself. He had no self-preservation instinct apparently. Not when it came to Laurent at least.

"But now you have," he said. Final. Not a question.

Laurent sighed, arms tightening around Damen's shoulders again as if scared Damen was going to pull away. As if, for better or for worse, Damen wasn't rooted to the spot, masochistically craving every detail, every reason why.

“Before I formally proposed," he answered. "Before the contracts were drafted. I wanted to - I needed to know that I wouldn't be condemning her to a childless marriage. We were already - well, it was already an unconventional union. I didn't want to deny her a family too, of the love she would receive from a child. But I - I wasn't positive I could," he admitted. "Mechanically speaking."

Damen was looking directly at Laurent, watching every admittance cross over his face. His cheeks burned, and Damen helplessly raised a hand to brush at the warmth. 

Laurent continued, leaning into Damen's touch, as if he was drawing courage from it. "So I had Auguste take me to one of the discreet brothels he used to frequent before he was king. You know it actually, the one we found Nicaise in? I paid for a woman there as a - test or something of the sort. And... I did it. It took some concentration and some... creative fantasies playing through my head, but I was able to finish. I then agonized over it, completely unable to sleep that night, and the next day we finalized the agreement." 

Damen nodded, though he still didn't understand why Laurent would put himself in that position. "Did it have to be a Vaskian?" he asked, the final betrayal to him and his country washing over him once more.

Laurent gave him an ironic smile. "Would you have rather it been another Akielon?"

"I would've rather it been noone," Damen said honestly.

Laurent frowned. He started to square his shoulders, but Damen didn't want to start an argument. Tired of craning his neck, he grabbed Laurent under the knees and swung him onto his lap, the circle of arms around him never breaking. He ran his thumb up and down Laurent's spine until he loosened once more.

Soothed, Laurent was quiet as he spoke again. He watched his hands as he fiddled with Damen's curls at the nape of his neck. He said, "It had to be someone eventually. And Vask was the best choice right now with everything going on. Auguste was ready to ride out to battle for you. But Vere was mourning my father, and Vishkar hadn't even acknowledged the attacks, and the council would've never released the army. And even though I don't have any proof of it, I am sure that our uncle was manipulating things at the border one way or another. So Auguste riding out into that, with nothing but his king's guard behind him... I would have lost him. And I couldn't let that happen."

Laurent looked back up at Damen now, guilt pouring out of his eyes.

"I'm the one that stopped him. I told him of the first assassination attempt against me. Of my suspicions against our uncle. And he stayed for me."

Damen brushed under Laurent's eyes, trying to absolve him of any guilt he felt over it.

"Hey," he said softly, "you did the right thing. I would've told him to do the same," he assured. 

Laurent leaned into Damen's hold once more, apologies still in his eyes. He continued his story. "So I went to Vask instead. It was all that was left to do. Vere has a strong allyship with both countries, and I knew if we could just get both parties to the table, we could solve it. 

"Alaia was the the first person to actually listen to me. She asked questions and debated intelligently, and encouraged the discussion among others. She had so many ideas about how to bring the free men back into the tribe. I knew then that she was the key to everything. I knew she was someone we all needed in our lives. So before I left, I made her a proposal. To come back to Vere with me. To use her voice to bring people together. To have a marriage of mutual respect and understanding of what we wanted for the world. It seemed... as right as it could get at the time, I guess," Laurent trailed off, but focused back on Damen to impress upon him one last point. "I didn't get engaged to spite you, Damen. I got engaged to save you."

Damen closed his eyes, letting Laurent's words wash over him. Hearing this side of events, Laurent's side, was hard. He had felt so alone this whole year. Cold and isolated in an army tent, fighting for his country's right to peace. Wondering why no one would aide him. Knowing that the Veretian brothers had been fighting for him this whole time, even as they fought for their own lives and country, was a lot.

"I thought you had abandoned me," he admitted aloud, letting some of the resentment go.

"No, Damen, no," Laurent soothed, cupping his face in both of his hands. "Never."

Damen met Laurent's eyes again, and saw apology and shared pain there. He shook his head at the ridiculous self-sacrificing nature the brothers shared. "Were the only choices really 'Auguste rides off to his death' or 'Laurent gets married?'"

Laurent responded with a small, rueful smile. "It seemed like it at the time. I was improvising."

Damen let himself laugh again and twisted to lay Laurent back down in the center of the bed, carefully situating himself over him, leaning to one side to let that arm carry most of his weight.

"You both really need to let others in on your decision-making," he said, a little disapproving. "Maybe then you wouldn't have to sacrifice yourself as a solution to every problem you encounter. I'm sure Enguerren and Jord would agree with me."

Laurent rolled his eyes, diffusing the last of the tension between them. "We were in the middle of quite a few dire circumstances, if you remember."

Damen brushed off the insinuation with a kiss to Laurent's neck. "Veretian dramatics."

Laurent closed his eyes at the touch. "It worked, didn't it?"

Damen kissed Laurent's shoulder. "With a few unnecessary frills and side quests, maybe, sure." Laurent breathed a laugh, and Damen raised his head to look directly down at him. "I would've rather had you at the end," he said with all honesty.

"You have me," Laurent said simply, draping his arms over Damen's shoulders again. 

"Not in the way I want," Damen admitted, coming too close to the truth. 

Laurent's sad smile was understanding. He stretched his neck to kiss Damen's lips softly. More of a brush than a kiss. "You have me in every way that we can. And we have tonight."

Laurent pulled Damen down with him into a deeper kiss. He made it sound so simple, like tonight was the only thing that mattered. And maybe, right now, it was. A way to end this god awful year. Together, in sync, as one. Finding strength in each other so they could face whatever came next.

Damen let himself relax into the embrace, and let this moment, Laurent, take over his thoughts. It wasn't hard. Laurent was all-consuming in every circumstance. Damen took his time, breathing Laurent in, tasting his tongue, letting the feeling of him completely envelope him.

He had dreamt about this moment for the past year. When he would finally have Laurent in his arms again, open and eager, a whole night in front of them, time a blur in the background. 

He didn't want to think about when he would have it again, so he dove in head first, and lost himself in it.

He was careful with Laurent's skin, but not shy. He dragged his mouth across every line of Laurent's body, using lips and tongue, instead of teeth and scrapes.

Laurent was mesmerizing, responding to every touch. Damen marvelled at the fact that the softer he was, the stronger Laurent reacted. He squirmed when Damen ran his nose over the bumps of his ribs. He scrabbled for purchase when Damen ghosted lips and breath up his side. He whimpered when Damen laved his nipple with his tongue, and pulled his hair when he blew cool air over it. 

Laurent massaged an apology into Damen's scalp when he lifted his head to grin at him. 

"So sensitive," Damen teased.

"And you enjoy the torture just a little too much," Laurent responded, breathlessness taking out most of the bite. 

Damen huffed a laugh, and Laurent gripped his hair again in retaliation. Damen came up on his elbows to enjoy the view. 

"What do you want then, sweetheart?" He asked, rubbing his thumbs into Laurent's hips.

"Damen," Laurent sighed, meeting his eyes earnestly, "I've always just wanted you."

Damen's chest swelled at the thought. His mind flashed through their last four years together. Moments of peace, happiness, hope, and longing shared. Thoughts, laughter, fears, and love given. Paths crossing, lives forever changed. 

Feeling like his heart was in danger of bursting, Damen crawled back up to take Laurent's lips, letting all of his emotions overflow into them. 

"I'm yours," he said as he pressed his forehead into Laurent's. "Always," he added as he stretched for the oil on Laurent's bedside. "However you want me," he said again as he uncorked the bottle and coated his fingers, rubbing them into Laurent's lips just to kiss it off, lips sliding against the slickened surface.

"Damen," Laurent pants, arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Please, I need you now."

"Yours," Damen said again, stealing one more kiss. He picked himself up to kneel between Laurent's legs, lifting Laurent's hips to rest on his thighs. He loved this part just as much as the rest, slowly opening Laurent up to him, gently working his muscles until he blossomed. 

"It's not torture. I love it when you are like this," he admitted, warming the oil up between his fingers. "Raw, unfiltered." 

Laurent gripped Damen's thighs under him, massaging the muscles there with his hands, as Damen's fingers started circling. 

"I think you just like hearing me beg," he said distractedly as Damen pushed one finger in, watching Laurent closely.

Damen laughed breathlessly as he tried to control the smile spreading on his face. "I definitely don't mind it."

"I can't even remember the last time I begged for something," Laurent said. "other than you," he added dryly when Damen went to remind him of the last time he begged with a grin. "I think it might have been for my first pony. Or... For Auguste not to go to war."

Two fingers in, but not able to deny the need for closeness after that admission, Damen pushed Laurent's legs up with him as he leaned over him for a kiss, an acknowledgment of how far they had come, from finding themselves within each other. He luxuriated in it until Laurent's muscles started twitching, and Damen's own wrist was cramping. "I like that you are comfortable enough with me and with yourself to voice your desires," he spoke against soft lips. "It means everything to me to know you trust me with your innermost wishes."

"Right now I wish you'd hurry up," Laurent said dryly.

Damen grinned again, helplessly charmed. "Halfway there, sweetheart." 

Laurent groaned, and Damen's own cock twitched at the sound. He sat back up, and put a third finger in Laurent, stretching and twisting to make sure Laurent was ready for him. 

Gods, it had been over a year. How had they let so much time pass? They both needed this prep to settle themselves into it.

Four fingers in, and Laurent was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. He glittered in the fading evening light, and Damen slid an entranced hand over his tensed muscles. His breath caught when Laurent captured that hand and brought it to his lips kissing each fingertip. 

"Damen," he said softly, locking eyes, and Damen couldn't look anywhere else. "I'm ready. Are you?"

"Yes", Damen breathed, not moving for a moment. "Yes," he said again as Laurent released his hand and he recentered himself on his knees. "Yes," he chanted as he gently pulled his fingers out of of Laurent, and used the remaining oil to slick up his cock. "Yes," he said one more time as he wrapped Laurent's legs around his hips and lined himself up to Laurent's hole. 

He hesitated for one more second, glancing up at Laurent's face to make sure he was ready. 

"Damen," he called, perfectly serene as if he was just waiting for his due. He massaged little circles into Damen's lower back with his heels. "Damen, please, come inside me."

Damen practically melted forward at the words and gentle touch, finally breaching Laurent with his most intimate part. He slid slowly, but smoothly in after all the preparation, holding his breath until he bottomed out. 

He leaned forward onto his elbows again, cupping Laurent's cheeks, as close to him as physically possible. Home, a voice inside his head told him, and Damen knew what it meant. This is where he belonged always. With Laurent, next to Laurent, inside Laurent. 

Damen kissed him while Laurent adjusted to to the invasion, and only when Laurent started undulating his hips against him, did Damen take the cue to start moving. 

His thrusts mirrored their earlier intimacy, slow, deep, and gentle. Their bodies moved together, practically singing every time they came back together. Damen stayed as close to Laurent as possible, peppering his jaw and neck and shoulder with gentle kisses, wet breaths prickling the skin there. 

Laurent was wrapped around him, using his legs for leverage, and letting his arms skate over as much skin as possible, reaching up and down Damen's back.

Overwhelmed by the closeness, Damen's lips found Laurent's ear. "Laurent," he breathed, recalling their previous talk, "tell me what else you wish for, sweetheart."

Laurent breathed a shuddering sigh before answering. "This," he whispered, voice a breath at Damen's ear. "I wish for it to always be like this. For you to always be near me."

Damen groaned at the thought. "Me too, baby," he said. "I wish for that too."

Damen's hands skated down Laurent's body to palm his cheeks. He was probably gripping too hard, but Laurent wasn't complaining, and Damen was fast approaching his peak. 

"What do you need, sweetheart?" he panted, hips still moving deeply into Laurent with every thrust. "How can I get you there?"

"I'm close," Laurent said, hands reaching around to pull Damen closer to him. "I just need this. Need you."

"I'm here, baby," Damen assured, struggling to keep his rhythm as he felt his climax approaching. He dragged a hard palm down one of Laurent's cheeks before circling it around to grasp his cock and press it against his stomach so it felt the friction with every movement. "Come for me," he begged. "I need to feel it around me, need to feel it on my cock." 

"Damen," Laurent groaned, as Damen felt his release coat his stomach. He pumped him through it, letting the contractions carry him over the edge, and driving his hips forward to fill Laurent as deep as possible with his own release. 

He stayed like that for a moment, mind whiting out, still gripping Laurent's cock, until Laurent pulled him down by the face and kissed him messily while they both came down from their highs.

"Gods," Damen groaned as he finally pulled out his fully softened cock, and fell to the side, head turning automatically back towards Laurent. "I've been thinking about that for a year."

Laurent chuckled, and turned towards Damen, fingers tracing his shoulder. "Just a year?" he asked. "And how was it?"

"Adequate," Damen replied, feigning nonchalance.

His answer took Laurent off guard, and he laughed harder than Damen expected. Mussed hair spun around him like a halo on the pillow, and his blue eyes crinkled into crescents as he laughed out loud so hard that Damen could count his teeth. Damen lost his breath at the sight of it, Laurent so unguarded and full of joy. In that moment, Damen's whole world narrowed onto one thing and one thought.

"Marry me," he said before he could formulate a speech.

Laurent's amusement slowly faded, but didn't disappear completely, as he scrunched his eyebrows at Damen. "What?" 

"Don't marry Alaia. Marry me instead," Damen said with more conviction. "I know the timing is not ideal, but -"

Damen watched Laurent's eyes instinctively begin to shutter before he decided to consciously keep them open and vulnerable. A small win.

"You know I cannot, Damen," he said sadly. "Don't be cruel."

"Because of Alaia?"

"My impending marriage is one reason, yes."

"Am I such a poor prospect?"

Laurent rolled his eyes. "I believe you are the most eligible marriage prospect on the continent, actually. Save Auguste, maybe."

"But you won't have me?" Damen pressed, hurt.

"Alright, Damen, enough," Laurent said sternly, halfway sitting up. "I'm not having fun role playing anymore."

"This is not role play!" Damen said honestly, following Laurent's moves, laid bare from their love-making. "I want to know when you decided it was over between us."

"I don't believe I had the luxury of making that decision," Laurent said harshly. "I just had to accept it as the truth."

"Whose truth?" Damen asked.

"Yours!" Laurent exploded, hands moving through the air.

"I assure you, that was not my truth," Damen insisted.

"You are a crown prince!" Laurent pushed, as if that was news.

"As are you!"

"Ah, but I am not a real crown prince," Laurent explained. "I am a placeholder prince until the day Auguste gets married and sires his real heirs. My heirs, or lack there of, do not matter."

"You'd be a great father." Damen interjected, distracted.

"If I married you I wouldn't be one," Laurent protested. "And more importantly, neither would you. Which matters, because you are the actual heir."

"Why couldn't we be fathers together?" Damen asked, mind going to the group of boys Laurent had promised a future to. Damen had started picturing that future too.

"Why-? What? Is that a real question?" Laurent sputtered. "In case the last four years haven't been clear, you cannot get me pregnant, Damen."

Damen flushed. "I know that. There are other ways. Surrogacy, adoption. I could name my new nephew heir, if my father's blood mattered that much. It runs in his veins just as strongly as it would in my own child." 

"Have you actually thought about this?" Laurent asked incredulously.

"Yes," Damen emphasized, then more gently, finally realizing something, "Laurent," he reached for Laurent's hand. "Did you think we could not get married because I needed to marry a woman as crown prince?"

"I - yes?" Laurent said, voice small now, unsure. "It is what would be expected in Vere. For a clear succession line."

"The clear succession line did not stop your Veretian uncle from trying to disrupt it." Damen said dryly.

Laurent ignored the tactless jibe. "And then when my birthday came and went this year without anything from you, I just -"

"What?" Damen interrupted. "I sent you something on your birthday!"

Laurent rolled his eyes. "Oh right, sorry, you sent something. Damen, it was my twentieth year. Veretian engagements are typically a year long. I expected - well, actually, it doesn't matter what I expected. What I didn't expect was a short, hastily written letter and a book that you had already given to me as a gift once before.”

Damen flushed harder and cringed away at the retelling, knowing now what his distraction had meant to Laurent. "I - I didn't know," he struggled to explain himself, "I was in the middle of a battlefield. I couldn't - there was no way for me to leave -" They sounded like excuses in his own ears, so he just tried to explain his intentions. "I thought about you constantly. It killed me knowing this was your first birthday I was missing in nearly a decade. But we were - we were overwhelmed at that time, and waiting for support. I couldn't leave, but I needed you to know I was thinking of you. So when a messenger came through the camp, I - I quickly penned the letter before he could leave again, and gave him instructions to pick up a present in the nearest town." He held Laurent's hand and looked at him earnestly. "I guess I thought… I always thought I would be able to make it up to you. Later. When we had time again."

"Well," Laurent said, resigned, "it doesn't matter now. We both survived this year the best we could. And we did pretty well, all things considered." 

"I was going to ask you to marry me," Damen insisted. "We talked about it once, remember? You told me you couldn't choose a spouse until you were twenty-one. I was waiting until then."

"I thought we were just speaking academically," Laurent said dully. "The king accepts courtships on the prince's behalf before then." He gestured around apparently indicating his current state of betrothal. "Obviously."

"Do you think Auguste would've even accepted my suit?" Damen asked. "He makes me wonder these days..."

Laurent chuckled. "I think you probably had a better chance with him than with Theomedes."

"I'll have you know I already discussed it with my father," Damen said loftily, "and he gave his full approval."

Laurent looked at Damen with wide eyes. "Really? Well, then. Who knew Theomedes had such a soft heart?"

"Excuse me?" Damen teased, pretending to lean in to hear better. "Was that a compliment to my father? From you?"

Laurent rolled his eyes again. "That man hates Vere more than is reasonable," he scoffed. His voice softened again. "But apparently his love for you trumps that hate."

Damen tucked Laurent back under his arm. "I think his love for you trumps that hate."

"Let's not go that far," Laurent mumbled.

"It's true though," Damen insisted. "It's true of every Veretian hating Akielon that meets you. Makedon, Nik, and now the great and terrible Theomedes himself."

Laurent hummed, lost in thought.

The weight of the day and this conversation was starting to affect Damen, tiredness making his limbs heavy. 

As they settled back in side by side, Damen found himself asking, "Do you think things could have been different? If we didn't hide our relationship back then, and loved out in the open?"

Laurent turned his head, nose brushing against Damen's as he positioned it on his pillow. "I don't know. But I don't think our union would have produced the four nation summit success we saw this week."

"I don't know," Damen said defensively. "I wouldn't bet against us."

"Or maybe our countries' hostilities would have forced us apart before we even got a chance to love each other," Laurent argued.

"I think I would love you in every lifetime," Damen admitted honestly.

There was silence for a second before Laurent's mouth twisted into a smile despite himself.

"You are so sappy."

Damen clutched his chest on mock offence. "I thought you liked poetry!"

"Oh?" Laurent asked, fully smiling now. "Are you a poet now?" 

Damen pretended to think. "I bet I could fill a book - 'Love Songs for Laurent of Vere.'"

"And Acquitart," Laurent added.

"Of course," Damen agreed. "Can't forget Acquitart. It would be an instant classic, I am sure."

"It would certainly be more romantic than the songs sung about you," Laurent teased.

Damen grinned. "Speaking of past ballads... Did you keep all the poems that were written for you when you came of courting age? You could make your own book."

To Damen's delight, Laurent's cheeks flamed red. "No!" he sputtered. "I burned those!"

"What?!" Damen gasped. "How could you? Those were history in the making! 'Poems for Laurent - The Face That Spawned One Thousand Bards.'"

Laurent's cheeks burned brighter still. "You are insufferable."

Damen rolled over to pin Laurent to the mattress and grinned down at him. "You don't really think so."

Laurent sighed. "I do not."

"You love me."

Laurent's expression was devasting when he looked up at Damen. "I do."

"I love you too," Damen said softly. He could see Laurent's eyes starting to well, so he ducked down for a kiss so Laurent had time to compose himself if he wanted. But when he pulled back, Laurent's face was as open as ever. So Damen asked just as softly, "everything will be okay, won't it? Even if this lifetime wasn't ours?"

Laurent swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded. "Yeah, it will be alright."

Damen gave him a reassuring smile as he settled in next to Laurent again. "Do you still want me to stay tonight?"

"Yes," Laurent said as he laid his head on Damen's shoulder and molded his body to Damen's side just like he had a hundred times before. "Please, Damen."

Damen kissed the top of his beloved's head. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Laurent made an indecipherable noise as he turned his face into Damen's skin, and Damen relaxed with the contentment of having Laurent's weight against him again. He listened to Laurent's deep breaths, and felt his own weight melt into the mattress. Sated, still a little sad, but exactly where he wanted to be, Damen quickly fell into a deep sleep.

--

Laurent woke the next morning before it was light. He turned to see Damen still sleeping soundly next to him, face relaxed in slumber, like he didn't have a care in the world. Gods, he was beautiful. His long dark lashes rested on his high cheekbones, full mouth soft, dark curls tumbling over his forehead. Laurent resisted with everything he had running a hand over that face. It had been a stressful few months, a stressful year, and Damen needed this sleep.

Laurent gently untangled himself from Damen's arms, and sat up. He swung his legs over the bed, and started locating his clothes from the night before. He needed to talk to Auguste. Privately. He should go immediately before Auguste started his duties for the day.

Laurent looked back at Damen, and considered waking him up. He looked so sweet laid out in Laurent's sheets, arms curled over the spot Laurent had just been sleeping in. He would leave him, even though that meant the servants would most likely find him there. So much for discreetness. But, somehow, Laurent didn't think anyone would be overly surprised.

Still, he didn't want Damen to wake and find him gone and worry. Glancing around, he looked for something to speak for him. He took a white flower from the bouquet on his nightstand and carefully placed the bloom in Damen's outstretched hand. A sign of Laurent's devotion and intention. Laurent hoped Damen would read it as such as he quietly dressed, and crept out of his room to go see his brother and king.

Laurent slipped into the hall, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. He nodded to his guards and turned towards Auguste's apartment. He was startled to see Alaia already in the hall, walking the same direction, dressed as if she was ready for a council meeting. 

"Alaia!" he started, surprise coloring his voice. "Good morning. You are up early."

Alaia nodded to him in greeting and gave a small smile. "I had hoped to speak with King Auguste about something this morning before he went to breakfast."

"Ah," Laurent said, nonplussed. What a coincidence. "I am on my way to see Auguste myself. Shall we go together then?" He offered her his arm.

Alaia hesitated for only a brief second before she took his arm as she always had. "Yes," she said, nodding determinedly to herself, "that is for the best."

Laurent gave her a curious look, but didn't press her for any more information. They were only a few steps away from Auguste's door now anyway. 

Laurent nodded at the guards there, and one of them dipped in to announce them. Moments later Auguste opened the door half dressed with a bemused expression. 

"Has something else gone wrong already?" he asked, fearing the worst.

Laurent almost laughed. Gods, they were really trained to have their minds jump to catastrophes when someone showed up without warning. "Calm yourself, nothing like that. Not like you are thinking anyway." He glanced at Alaia and saw a matching glint of amusement in her hazel eyes. He gestured for her to go first.

"I had wanted to talk to you both about something," she began, looking at Auguste. "And it seemed Laurent had something of note to share this morning as well. So here we are."

Auguste looked between them, no clearer on either one of their purposes for being there that morning. "Shall I ring for coffee?" he asked, waving them in. "Toast?"

"Yes," Laurent agreed, going to the table, and pulling out a chair for himself and Alaia. "Send for a platter. This might take a while."

Chapter Text

"Prince Laurent, please. It is bad enough you are only wearing one of the looks I have designed for you today. Please don't let that one get ripped to shreds by playing with that wild animal."

Laurent grinned and looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the ground playing with Soha the leopard cub. He detached the claw that had become tangled up in the lace at his wrist as he replied,  "Sorry, Charls. I'm just babysitting her while her mama gets dressed."

Charls muttered to himself, unimpressed, as he organized the excessive racks of clothes he had brought to Laurent's dressing room today. Laurent had been ready for half an hour already, laced within an inch of his life, so whatever Charls was attempting to do was definitely excessive at this point.

Laurent read the room, and decided it was probably best to get out of the tailor's way while he was in his zone. "Come on, Soha," he said gently, scooping up the frisky cub. "Let's go see Maman before the bad man turns you into a cape."

"That furball could not even line a proper pair of gloves!" Charls snapped to no one in particular as Laurent weaved his way around garments and out of the room. He wondered how many more outfits that he wouldn't get the chance to wear would be put together by the time he returned.

The wedding party was all getting ready in the same wing of the palace, so Laurent only had to go down a few doors to get to where Alaia was getting dressed. He let Soha bat at the loose lace dangling from his wrist as they went, cooing to the cub.

He nodded to Malik when he reached the door, and knocked to announce himself. When no one answered after a few moments of waiting, he looked back at the guard, raising an eyebrow. Malik shrugged and gestured for him to let himself in, so, frowning now, Laurent pushed open the door to step inside.

He immediately realized why Malik was avoiding coming in here himself. It was an overwhelming scene of silk and tulle with a swarm of attendants running every which way, somehow narrowly avoiding running into each other.

And sitting serenely in the middle of it all, in a dress of blue and gold that had more layers and frills than the wedding cake they picked out together, was Alaia.

Her hair was ruthlessly pinned back with jewels and combs, but a few of her wild curls had revolted and bounced back out to frame her face and reclaim some of her personality. She was seemingly ignorant of the chaos surrounding her, and was staring dreamily into the middle distance as one of her attendants strapped her foot into a shoe.

She looked beautiful, if a bit overly ornate, and calm as only someone doubtless in her decisions could be.

"Wow," Laurent said aloud, making his entrance known. "You look exquisite."

"Laurent!" Alaia exclaimed, coming out of her trance to greet him happily, before her face turned scandalized. "Are you allowed to see the bride before the ceremony?"

"Sorry," grinned Laurent sheepishly. "I had to get Soha away from Charls before he turned her into his next creation." He watched as the cub stopped playing with the dangling lace when she heard her mama's voice, and jumped out of his arms to pad over to Alaia. "Besides," he said as Alaia didn't hesitate to scoop up the cub to her chest, even in her bridal gown, "I don't think that superstition applies to me anymore."

"Fair enough," she grinned at him. "Come sit. I still have nine hundred alterations to sit through. Charls is ruling with an iron fist even in absentia it seems."

Laurent pulled up a chair nearby, careful to avoid her dress as he pulled it closer to her and sat down. He looked around again at the chaos for a moment before asking, "how many people are working on you right now?"

Alaia eyed him over someone that was vigorously applying blush to her cheeks and... nose? 

"You stop it," she said sternly. "Not all of us just wake up so beautiful. Some of us need an entire team behind us to achieve it."

Laurent smiled at her sarcasm. "I think Auguste would love it just as much if he saw you walk down the aisle in your training gear."

Alaia's face broke into a soft smile. "The best part about that statement, is that I think it's true."

"I know it is," Laurent nodded. Then he asked her seriously, "but you are happy?"

He knew the last few days, and if he was honest, the last few months, had to have been a mental exercise in just adapting to the many changes that constantly came her way. 

"I am," she said earnestly. "You know I am. Auguste and I have grown close over the last two months, and..." she broke off with that same dreamy smile before snapping her attention back on Laurent. "Of course I don't doubt that we would have made a great partnership as well, and accomplished the many goals we were setting out to do, but... I never expected to be this excited on my wedding day, you know?"

Laurent laughed lightly. "I do know. It was quite bold of you to tell Auguste that morning you would rather be a queen than a mere princess," Laurent said as seriously as possible, suppressing his smile.

Alaia made a strangled sound and looked around at her attendants but no one was listening to them.

"You know that is not what happened!" she hissed. "I went in with ideas of reparations to Vask for King Auguste to break the contract."

Laurent was grinning now. She was easy to rile this morning. "Oh right, how could I forget? It was Auguste, that paragon of honor, that so selflessly suggested marrying you, as if the idea had just come to him and he hadn't been thinking about it for weeks."

Alaia blushed fiercely. Laurent snickered.

"Of course he hadn't!" Alaia defended. "Auguste would never - not when you and I -"

Laurent was openly laughing now. "Oh my, you give him way too much credit."

Alaia finally realized he was teasing her, and she settled back into her seat, refusing to keep rising to the bait.

"I think you just want to stir up one more scandal before you go," she said primly.

Laurent grinned in good humor. "I have time for more than just one, surely."

Alaia grew serious. "So it's true then? You are leaving us?"

"Not right away," Laurent hedged, "but eventually, yes, that's the plan."

Alaia gave a half pout, half smile. "Well, your Akielon is certainly on board. At least I will always have Starburst to remember you by."

Laurent rolled his eyes. "You and that horse. It does not resemble me."

"She objectively does, and she is the best gift I have ever received."

"Don't let Auguste hear you say that," said Laurent dryly.

Alaia waved him off. "He already knows. He thinks he will be able to top it, but I am doubtful. I love her too much."

Laurent smiled to himself, thinking about the stallion Auguste was looking at purchasing to breed with Starburst. He thought Alaia might be surprised at what Auguste could do when he set his mind to it.

"I know you do," Laurent said softly. "I would have never given such an exquisite animal to someone who wouldn't appreciate her."

Alaia returned his soft smile. "I love you too, you know," she said, eyes shining. "In another way. One that you probably understand."

"I do," Laurent nodded, "And I love you as well. I think of you as part of our family already. Today makes that official."

Alaia took a deep breath at that. "Family," she repeated, as if she still couldn't believe it. "Part of the Veretian royal family."

"Queen," Laurent added, lips quirking.

"Gods," Alaia said, bemused. "Who could've ever thought?"

"I thought we agreed Auguste had some thoughts..." Laurent teased again.

"Ooh, shut up," Alaia scolded. 

"Right, sorry," Laurent said again, holding his hands up, "he is honor personified." 

Alaia just clicked her tongue, not rising to the bait this time. 

"I'm going to go check on him," Laurent said, starting to rise for goodbyes. "Do you want me to take Soha with me?'

"No," Alaia said, stroking the now sleeping cub. "She will be okay here. Thanks for watching her. You are a good uncle."

Laurent just smiled in return, and let the praise roll off his back. He was careful not to let that title being applied to him make him feel any which way. He still felt a little raw after the recent events, but he knew it would pass. It would have to. Laurent planned to restore a little balance to the universe by being the best uncle possible to Auguste's kids. And he guessed Kastor's. Gods, that was a train of thought for another time.

--

Across the hall and a few more doors down, Laurent walked into Auguste's dressing room to see that Charls had moved his entire campaign of cloth in here. 

Auguste was still only half dressed, looking decidedly more manic than Alaia had, rifling through the portable clothes racks, while a tailor worked on his pants in the corner. 

"Why on earth did you have so many clothes made for today?" he asked exasperatedly, poking his head above the cloth.

"We were showcasing Veretian cloth to our many international guests and trade partners," Laurent replied loftily, leaning against the arm of a chair slightly removed from the chaos. "Really, Auguste, you should be wearing more clothes," he said disapprovingly. "Are you attempting to sell undergarments to the Akielons here today? It is a notoriously stubborn market."

Auguste gave Laurent an unimpressed look before ducking back down to his task. 

Laurent grinned. Alaia and Auguste were both fun to tease today. "Charls embarked on his own creative journey," he finally explained. "I didn't have much say. You should be pleased he only had to alter for you this week instead of creating from scratch though."

"I don't know why I can't just wear the clothes I already have," Auguste grumbled. 

"Auguste," Laurent said sternly, suddenly serious. "You will do nothing of the sort. I have seen Alaia this morning, and there is no way you are going to stand next to her splendor in your regular clothes. She is committing to the pageantry of this all for you, and you will match her effort."

"You've seen Alaia already?" Auguste blinked up, ignoring the rest of Laurent's warning. 

"Yes," Laurent sighed, calming down at the look on Auguste's face just from hearing his bride's name, "and she looks beautiful."

"Obviously," Auguste scoffed, but then he looked nervous again. "Did she look happy though?"

"Auguste," Laurent said softly, stepping towards his brother, "yes, she is happy. She is more excited than I have ever seen her, even more than when she got Starburst." Auguste looked skeptical at that, but Laurent cut off any argument from him. "It is true. There is not a trace of wedding nerves in her. She knows this is what she wants."

Auguste blew out a big breath. "Okay. That's good." But he tensed up once more to ask Laurent, "and is it what you want?"

That question took Laurent off guard so much he didn't even know what Auguste meant by it. "Is what what I want?" he asked.

Auguste looked uncomfortable, but determined to ask his question. "Are you still - I mean, I know you want to marry Damianos, but... Are you okay with me marrying Alaia? I guess - I'm asking are you, or were you - ever, even - in love with her too?"

Laurent's heart felt like it was swelling at such an alarming rate that it was in danger of bursting right out of his chest. Auguste, his big brother, was more nervous for him on his wedding day than his own self-sacrificing self. Still putting everyone's needs in front of his own on today of all days.

"Gods, Auguste," Laurent started, stunned, and maybe even a little choked up. "You're about to be married in an hour. What would you even do if I said yes?"

Auguste threw his hands up. "I'd - postpone this whole mad thing," he said, starting to pace. "Wait a bit, spend some time together, allow your feelings to... settle."

Laurent couldn't help the incredulous smile spreading on his face. "And... what? Tell all the guests out there to wait a tic? Come back in a month or two? Take some of the three day feast to go?"

Auguste was spinning his hands in the air. Laurent was tracking them with a growing grin. "We'd just have another... Veretian emergency," Auguste brainstormed. "You could pretend to have a heart attack. I could actually have a heart attack -"

Laurent's smile was uncontrollable now. Gods, his brother truly was the best human nature had to offer. "Auguste," he finally cut in, closing the distance between them and laying a hand on his brother's arm to stop his flailing. "Calm. Alaia and I both agreed to a marriage of convenience and friendship since the first day when I told her I strongly preferred men, and she told me that that was just another thing thing we had in common."

Auguste's shoulders relaxed slightly to release some of the tension that had fixed there. 

"And still?"

"Yes," Laurent emphasized, rubbing his hand up and down Auguste's limp arm a bit. He hoped it was comforting. "We saw a mutual benefit in it. Our ideologies aligned. We had similar goals. And then we grew to be great friends on top of it. It was a better foundation than most political matches I've seen, but we both knew that that is what it was."

Auguste looked at him with eyes so blue and so open, Laurent thought for a moment he was looking into his very soul. "That is not what I wanted for you."

Laurent gave him him a small, understanding smile. "You wanted to give me my choice, and that is what it was at the time. I would have been grateful for it." Auguste looked almost sad, and Laurent didn't want to see anything of the sort on his face today. "When you marry Alaia today," Laurent started and was gratified to see Auguste perk up slightly at the mention, "she will be my sister, and I will love her as such. I really don't think we could have done better at this if we had tried."

Auguste's limbs finally unlocked, and he hugged Laurent around the head. He held the tight embrace, even as Laurent struggled to get out of it. "Thank you. Thank you for finding her and bringing her into our lives, and saving Damen, and Vere, and very probably the whole world with that big beautiful brain of yours."

Laurent gasped a laugh as he finally broke free and swatted Auguste away. "That was just as much you as it was me, and it was probably more Alaia than anyone. You will make a great team."

"We will, won't we?" Auguste agreed. His smile was as genuine as Laurent had ever seen it, but then he gave Laurent another serious look. "You know, what I feel for Alaia is what I've always wished for you," Auguste said earnestly. "You both are so brilliant, in so many different and important ways. I always wanted someone that would admire and adore you. And encourage you to be exactly who you were meant to be."

Laurent smiled as he thought of someone in particular. "I think I might still have a chance at it."

Auguste rolled his eyes. "Right," he said, tone shifting to sardonic. "You actually don't need to remind me. You know servants talk, right? And that they also talk to guards? All my men were talking yesterday about how Exalted Damianos had not left your room in days. Blegh," Auguste gagged, shoulders shuddering.

Laurent scoffed, nose in the air. "Well that is very obviously not true. You have seen him yourself at the feasts."

"The only spottings of Damen the past few days being him obtaining sustenance is not the message you think it is," Auguste said dryly. 

Laurent raised a brow. "I don't tie him to the bed, if that is what you are asking."

Auguste wrinkled his nose. "I most definitely am not asking that."

"Then think about your own bedsport," Laurent challenged, deflecting. "The servants may have been talking about us, but you are about to be the talk of the entire council." Laurent grinned. "Ready for the consummation tonight?"

Auguste winced. Shot landed, conversation diverted. "Ready as we'll ever be to be intimate in front of half a dozen old men, I guess," Auguste shrugged. "We practiced last night," he added sheepishly.

"Auguste!" Laurent exclaimed, feigning scandalized, lifting a prim hand to his chest. "Before the wedding? Without an audience of esteemed colleagues? How improper!"

Auguste rolled his eyes again. Laurent really did bring it out in people. It made him smile more. "Right. Because your first time with your husband will be on your wedding night." Laurent just shrugged demurely, and Auguste waved him off. "It is a stupid tradition, you know this, and I was not able to change it. Yet." Laurent nodded, happy auguste was planning on tackling that one. Auguste continued meaningfully. "But I wanted our first time to be comfortable. For us alone. And special, not scrutinized and awkward and invasive. I wanted it to be about how we feel about each other, not how the council feels about us." 

Laurent softened considerably at his brother's earnest speech. He was such a sucker for a pure heart. "You are a great king," he said honestly, wanting Auguste to hear it. "I already knew that. What's more, though, is that I think you will make a great husband too."

Auguste looked grateful for the words. "Gods, I hope so. It is times like these I really miss Maman. She would have made sure of it."

Laurent dipped his head thinking about it.  He supposed their father had trained Auguste to be king since birth, but when were either of them supposed to learn how to be a husband? Or to raise a family?

Laurent broke the solemn silence with his own opinion. "I think she taught us what it meant to care for a family by doing it for us," he said. "You will be a great husband. And father. You have practically been one to me since I was born."

Auguste gripped his shoulder, and they stood silently for a moment in their shared grief. 

Auguste was the first to speak again, a touch of somberness still coloring his voice. "Are you sure you really want to leave us? We are just starting to get a family back again."

Laurent gripped Auguste's hand on his shoulder tightly. He thought about their family of the past, when he was a child, and they still had both their parents. He thought about Alaia, and Damen, and what awaited him in Akielos. And he thought about Nicaise, and the other boys he had taken under his wing, and his hopes of providing them a family and a place to belong too.

He spoke determinedly, like he could will his words into being just by speaking them. "We are still a family," he said emphatically, "and we will continue to grow it. That love will just have to cross borders." 

Auguste squeezed his hand one more time, and then leaned in to kiss Laurent's forehead. Neither of them mentioned the wetness that was blurring their eyes. 

There was a light knock on the door. As if summoned by Laurent's thoughts, Damen poked his head in, asking permission to enter. 

Auguste granted it, and stepped away to put his newly tailored pants on. Laurent moved towards the door to lead Damen in. Both the brothers used the moment to compose themselves.

"You look stunning," Damen murmured, greeting Laurent with a soft kiss on the lips. Laurent tried very hard not to blush at the simple compliment.

"And what about me?" Auguste demanded from across the room clearly having shed the emotions from their previous conversation. He was being sewn into the jacket he was to wear today. That meant Charls would have to make another appearance after the ceremony to cut him out of it, and that thought made Laurent smile internally while Auguste continued. "He is not even the groom today!"

"To be fair, I'm not sure most of the guests here know that," Damen muttered mostly for Laurent's ears. Laurent smiled and shook his head at him, drawn to the humor dancing in Damen's brown eyes. He hadn't seen nearly enough of that humor that past few months, and he was grateful for it's presence today. Damen threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side as he spoke louder to include Auguste. "You look lovely. How did the empress take the news?" 

Auguste shrugged, which earned him a smack from the tailor who was still sewing the seams of his sleeves. He muttered an apology before he replied to Damen, "she's happy enough, all things considered. Vask is getting considerably more of a foothold in Vere at the end of the day afterall." Auguste stopped himself from shrugging again by tilting his head back and blowing out a breath to the ceiling. "But she is still making it apparent she is annoyed. Tried to put a trial for international crimes in the contract and everything."

Laurent snorted at the memory. "She couldn't quite hide her excitement though. She noted the upgrade in title as well as the breeding stock." He gestured to Auguste's noticeably bigger form, even under all his ceremonial laces. 

Auguste predictably colored, making Laurent chuckle. He looked pleadingly at Damen. 

"Damen, he keeps teasing me. Can't you make him be quiet or something?" he whined.

Laurent grinned further. "I don't think you'd appreciate his usual way of accomplishing that -" he started, but Damen was already talking over him.

"Oh?" he was saying to Auguste, humor still evident. "Are we friends again then? Now that it was you that stole a spouse and broke up your brother's engagement?"

Auguste made an indignant sound. "That is not what happened. And your intentions were still inappropriate."

Damen, somehow, was even more indignant. Gods forbid either one of them was accused of dishonor.

"I had the purest of intentions!" he defended.

Auguste looked at Laurent for support now, finding none from his friend. Something settled deep inside Laurent at the familiarity of it all. The three of them in an informal setting, bantering back and forth, Laurent tucked under Damen's arm, as Auguste looked upon them with mixed exasperation and warmth. Laurent had thought he'd never have this again, but here it was, despite some of his best efforts. Count on Damen to disrupt even his best laid plans. Laurent would never stop thanking him for it.

"Well?" Auguste prompted, snapping Laurent out of his reverie. "Is that true? Were his intentions pure?" 

Laurent glanced up at Damen before he grinned cheekily at his brother. "I wouldn't call them pure..."

Auguste made a disgusted noise, though he was denied a dramatic gesture by the tailor. And Damen brought one hand up to cover half his face. "You guys are the inappropriate ones," he muttered into it. 

Laurent noticed the tailor finishing up Auguste's jacket, and he patted Damen's hand that was still dangling from his shoulder. "Come now, lover. They are about to start on the laces and accessories. There will soon be so many people surrounding Auguste, we won't even be able to see him." Another whine from the man himself. "Let's go take our seats."

"Are all of these necessary?" Auguste asked warily, as three more attendants started pinning him up. 

Laurent looked back at his brother without any sympathy for his plight. "Just think about Alaia coming down the aisle towards you," he shrugged. "You are doing this to give her something to smile at."

"She will be laughing at me," Auguste argued.

Laurent smiled, picturing it. "Probably," he agreed honestly, "but she will still be smiling."

Auguste softened his bristles as he pictured it as well. "Alright," he sighed, eyeing the men around him. "Do your worst."

"Best!" Laurent corrected, leading Damen to the door. "I love you, brother!"

"I love you too!" came Auguste's muffled reply as an ornate collar was being shoved over his head.

Laurent closed the door behind them, still smiling from the scene they just left.

Damen noticed, and returned a genuine smile back at him. He slipped his arm off Laurent's shoulders, and grabbed his hand as they started walking toward the gardens where the ceremony would take place. Laurent thrilled at the feeling of doing this in a crowded hallway. He wanted to steal a kiss, but knew they probably weren't ready for that yet. One day, he thought.

"I think this might be the happiest day of my life," Damen said, eyes sparkling down at him.

Laurent looked up at his sentimental lover, and once again returned his much too large smile. They must look manic walking down the hall smiling at each other this way. "What, watching Auguste get married?"

Damen shook his head, and squeezed Laurent's hand. He bent his head low to murmur in his ear, "watching you not get married."

Laurent grinned harder, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss now that Damen's face was so close. It took all his willpower to make it a quick one.

He pictured all the days they had ahead of them. Days full of happiness, hard work, grief, laughter, and love, all of it shared.

He looked Damen in the eyes and knew he would stand next to him through all of it. "I bet we can top it," he said confidently.

--

Epilogue

One year later 

"Nicaise, don't throw olives."

"Well, where am I supposed to put them? Do these people have to put them in every godsforsaken dish?"

"Just put them on that table over there." Laurent sighed, gesturing with his goblet of watered down wine. "And don't say 'these people.' Here, try this." 

Laurent grabbed a stuffed grape leaf from a passing serving tray and handed it over to the discontented youth. Damen had made sure there was a seemingly infinite amount of the dish available for their wedding day wandering by on various serving platters. He had wanted to skip the honeyed apricots for the occasion, but Laurent requested them specifically. The last year had been about reclaiming his life for himself, and he was not about to let a favorite dish be permanently ruined for him just because of a bit of poisoning.

"Mm," Nicaise said, mouth full. "A bit better, I guess." He picked at his half sleeve. He had chosen to mix Akielon and Veretian fashions today, and was wearing a cape fastened with a traditional collar that billowed into two half sleeves over what could best be described as a structured, embroidered chiton. It seemed Charls had found a new favorite muse, and the role perfectly suited Nicaise. "Why is it still so hot this time of year?" he continued to complain. "Is it always this fucking sunny?"

Laurent's mouth ticked up into half a grin. He was in his full Veretian ceremonial regalia. Yes, it was hot, but still, he wasn't the one complaining. "You get used to it," he replied, hiding his grin behind his cup. "Probably." 

Nicaise rolled his eyes, obviously doubtful, but didn't harp on it. He picked up another olive and held it up to his eye, inspecting it.

"Is eating so many olives what makes everyone in this country so fucking big?"

Laurent held back his laugh. It wouldn't do to encourage this mood in Nicaise. "I think it's all the sunlight," Laurent admitted, having wondered the same thing himself.

"Of course it is," said Nicaise darkly, flicking the olive on the ground again. He grabbed three more grape leaves off a platter, and then looked around. 

It seemed like most of Ios plus a good chunk of the Akielon nobility were crowded into the courtyard, but they could still Damen, thanks to his absurd height, across the patio, chatting to Kastor and his nephew. Nicaise made a disgusted sound when Damen helped the toddler put an olive on each finger and wiggle them about. Damen glanced over at that moment, and his face split into an even bigger grin as he waved his own olive filled hand at them. Laurent grinned back, warmed at the sight.

"He's going to want one of his own, you know," Niciase pointed out when he finally stopped fake gagging.

Laurent thought about a tiny Damen running around the halls and smiled. "Probably," he agreed.

"Are you going to give him one?" Nicaise asked.

Laurent side eyed him. "Do you not know why that is impossible? Am I supposed to give you an education on this subject?"

"Ugh," Nicaise exclaimed in disgust. "No. I meant are you going to let him have an heir." 

Laurent tried not to picture tiny Damen too clearly in his head again. "Oh. Yes, of course."

"A blood heir? With a woman?" Nicaise probed again. 

Laurent turned to him, giving him his full attention. He had spent a long time thinking about what his and Damen's future would look like after their conversation in Vere. He hadn't quite said it out loud yet, but often he imagined them surrounded by children in a warm household with love enough to spare. "We will discuss it when the time comes, but I am certainly not opposed to it."

"Oh," Nicaise said, quieter now. "Do you want one?"

Laurent laughed lightly. "A 'blood heir'? No, I don't think so. Auguste is the best of our line, and he is continuing it just fine."

Auguste and Alaia had not been able to make it for the wedding, because they had just welcomed their first child a month ago. A little girl named Henni. 

Laurent was bursting at the seams to see her, but he hadn't been able to travel so close to the wedding. Alaia had written to tell them she arrived healthy and strong and blond. Vere had kept its golden starburst after all. She also added that Laurent wasn't to worry about not seeing her right away. Alaia was taking her to see Starburst, the horse, everyday, so that when Henni finally met her Uncle Laurent, he would feel familiar to her.

Damen had laughed much too hard at that in Laurent's opinion. 

Laurent and Damen had agreed to use their post-wedding holiday to visit Arles and welcome her to the family though, so it wouldn't be long now until he could set her straight himself.

"Incoming," Nicaise muttered, bringing Laurent back to the present in Ios. "Invasion from Patras."

"What -?" Laurent asked, bewildered. He looked behind himself, following Nicaise's gaze over his shoulder. "Oh, Prince Torveld," he greeted the approaching diplomat. "How are you enjoying the festivities?"

Torveld was walking towards him with a warm smile, and humor in his eyes. "As beautiful as the guest of honor," he replied smoothly, taking Laurent's hand. "Now please be honest with me, how many times will I be asked to watch you get married?"

"This will be the last," Laurent confirmed with a laugh, leaving his hand in Torveld's for the extra second it took the man to release him. "I don't think I have it in me to plan another."

Torveld laughed even though it really wasn't that funny. "I believe you could do anything you set your mind to," he said admiringly.

"You give me too much credit," Laurent argued good-naturedly. 

"Impossible," Torveld countered. "Prince Damianos is a lucky man."

"As am I," Laurent agreed, nodding. 

"It will be good to see you in Ios when I return for diplomatic visits now," Torveld continued. "I'm sure your presence here will shake up this old city."

Laurent smiled sweetly. "I am not here to make waves, Prince Torveld."

Torveld laughed again. Laurent wondered how dry he could get before Torveld stopped laughing at his remarks. "Oh Prince Laurent, I believe your impact is felt the moment you enter a room."

The nature of the compliment surprised Laurent, and he was quiet for a moment as he took it in.

"Do not worry," Torveld said, filling the silence. "Some institutions could use a refresh." He looked up and saw someone waving at him across the room. "Congratulations again, Prince Laurent. You look radiant. I am going to go take in the entertainment. There is an extraordinary kithara player that I would like to hear perform again."

Laurent nodded, and let Torveld clasp his hand once more before taking his leave. Nicaise had stuffed his mouth with his remaining grape leaves during the conversation, but now he swallowed.

"He still wants to fuck you," he said as if he was commenting on the weather. Actually, he was a lot more vehement when commenting on Akielos' weather. 

Laurent shook his head, not rising to Nicaise's obvious bait. "He is just a charmer and a flirt."

"I bet he is crushed Akielos doesn't do the public consummation thing." Nicaise continued anyway.

Laurent levelled him with a look. "Enough," he stated. "Why don't you find the other boys and check out the fair in town? Where is Alois?" 

Nicaise shrugged. "I don't know, probably back in the kitchens baking something."

"Can you make sure he gets out to enjoy the celebrations a bit?" Laurent asked. "I think he'd like the confections the street vendors have to offer."

"Sure thing, Stéphane," Nicaise said mockingly, and Laurent gave him a warning look as he turned around to go find the others. He grabbed another handful of stuffed grape leaves on his way. 

Laurent had come to Akielos with 4 boys in tow, calling them his wards. Damen didn't even blink at the move, finding places for them all in the palace, and assigning them tutors as they settled in. 

Laurent was grateful. He had offered each of the boys a new life, but he was sure none of them expected that life to be in Akielos. So Damen working so hard to aid their transition, getting them all tutored in the Akielon language, finding them a way to make their own money, was essential for them to have a successful life here. And they all deserved to have that so much. 

Laurent watched Damen playing with his nephew again, but had to shake himself out of his thoughts as he spotted a much less welcome guest coming towards him, clearly taking advantage of his solitude. 

"A beautiful ceremony, Prince Laurent," Jokaste commented, smiling serenely. "I do believe that makes us siblings now."

Laurent pasted his fakest smile on for her benefit. "Does that mean I can expect the same treatment you give Damianos now?" 

He was referencing the way her hand would reach for Damen's knee under the table while she sat next to her own husband, and he was fairly sure she knew it. Laurent's first night in Akielos, Damen had jerked so violently at dinner that he drew stares as he practically yanked on Laurent's arm to excuse them from the table.

Jokaste just laughed airily. "I have always had a hard time seeing him that way, but I think that you and I can be great friends."

Laurent made a noncommittal sound as he averted his gaze back to Damen and Kastor. Damen was setting his nephew on Kastor's shoulders, feigning shock at how big the boy was. 

Jokaste followed his gaze. "He is a remarkable father figure, isn't he?," she said almost absently. Then she returned her sharpened gaze to Laurent. "I do hope the boy doesn't grow to look too much like Damianos. I would hate for anyone to question his paternity."

"Now why would they do that?" Laurent asked dryly, sure he was setting up her next line.

"Well, you were gone from Ios for so long," Jokaste said, almost sadly. "And Damen and I couldn't help but get close. With how busy Kastor is kept, and how lonely Damianos gets..." She trailed off, eyes darting away, the picture of regret. "The rumors were nasty at the time. Poisonous." 

Rumors Laurent was sure she had started herself. He just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, and instead gave her what she was probably seeking, a slight widening, a show of suppressed surprise.

He saw a flash of satisfaction in Jokaste's gaze before she waved off her words. "But that's all ancient history. You are here now. With your horde of Veretian commoners around you."

"Oh dear," Laurent commented. "A horde? That sounds almost invasive."

"Well, I'm sure you can see how some might see it that way," Jokaste explained gently, like she was doing him a kindness. "It looks threatening, after such a tumultuous few years at the border and now so close to the throne."

"Terrible," Laurent agreed, nodding his head. "Can you even imagine? A Veretian so close to the Akielon throne?"

The obvious sarcasm irked Jokaste enough to make her smile falter.

"You joke," she said, trying to regain her humor, "but the king will tire of your act sooner than I."

"My lady," Laurent said apologetically, "unfortunately, being Veretian is not an act. I am afraid I was born this way." He flourished his words with an exaggerated shrug.

"Princess," Jokaste cut in, sharper, but still intentionally gentle. She was tough to crack. "Not lady. And your flippancy could be your undoing here. The king is aging. As his health declines, he will keep his real family close. His Akielon family, not one poisoned by Veretian blood."

"I shall endeavor to keep all my blood inside me then," Laurent resolved.

Jokaste ignored him. "Damianos will not want to upset him in his poor health. He will want to rid the palace of anything... Upsetting to him."

Laurent raised his eyebrows and pointed to himself. Me? it asked silently.

Jokaste continued to deny his dramatics a response.

"If you poison Damianos against his own family, it will come back to bite you," she warned.

"Excuse me," Laurent looked confused. "Is it the poison or the bite I should be worried about?"

Jokaste's eyes narrowed. "Take care, Prince Laurent. I would hate to see you offend the wrong person here."

"I shall be wary of my translations," Laurent said apologetically. "I would hate to be accused of poisoning anyone."

Jokaste lifted her chin and turned back to her family, clearly ready to forget this interaction entirely. Laurent waved good naturedly, and it wasn't long until another presence sidled up next to him. 

"Prince Laurent," Nikandros greeted. "Everything alright?"

Laurent continued to watch Jokaste's retreat. "Nikandros," he replied. "Have you ever noticed that Jokaste mentions poison a lot when she talks?" She also spoke of Theomedes' ailing health as if it was a foregone conclusion, but Laurent kept that observation to himself for now. It was a wedding afterall, no need to be too grim.

Nikandros eyed him seriously. "Yes. I have."

"Hm," Laurent hummed, turning it all over in his head, and finding Damen again who was now speaking with his father who had curiously, or perhaps not curiously, been sitting down for the majority of the reception. 

"You will need evidence," Nikandros said softly, following Laurent's line of sight.

A barely perceptible nod from Laurent. "I will.'

"Damen will not want to hear it," Nikandros continued. 

A shake this time. "He won't."

"Well," Nik said earnestly, looking back at Laurent now, "I am glad you are here."

That surprised a cheeky grin out of Laurent, and earned his full attention. 

"Now Nik, that was positively sentimental. Do you like me?" he teased.

Nik rolled his eyes, though he would probably deny it if Laurent called him out on it. Laurent liked his effect on this man. Sarcasm suited Nikandros.

"You do not make it easy," Nik returned. "Are you treating Islander well?"

Laurent put his hand to his heart. "I think you know I treat all of my men well. I did not kidnap him, Nikandros." Laurent had asked Isander to join his guard when he moved to Akielos, and the young man had enthusiastically agreed.

Nikandros sighed. So dramatic. "I know, I just want to hear that he is settling in okay amongst your men."

"He is," Laurent confirmed proudly. "Lazar is mentoring him."

Nikandros flinched at that. "You're joking."

Laurent laughed. "I am not actually, on my honor." At Nikandros' look, Laurent laughed again. Speaking with Nikandros was a balm after sparring with Jokaste. "Okay, on Damen's honor. Jord had him in a few rotations to get to know the system, but Lazar really took him under his wing. They are a good pair. And Pallas keeps Lazar in line. Mostly."

Nikandros almost held back another wince. "I suppose it is not my place to comment."

"It is not," Laurent agreed, smiling.

"Well, I suppose I do not have to tell you to be careful. I will leave you now. Your husband is coming to collect you." He nodded behind Laurent.

Liking the sound of that much more than he expected to, Laurent whirled around to see Damen indeed heading his way with a singular focus.

Forgetting to say goodbye to Nikandros, he met his husband with a warm smile, the most genuine one he'd had since he had kissed him just a little too long at the ceremony.

"Damianos," Laurent greeted, trying to tamp down his smile before it split his face.

Damen had finally reached him, and snaked a hand around his hip as he dipped his head. "My prince," he said lowly in his ear.

Laurent felt himself blush, but couldn't be too annoyed at himself, because it made Damen brush a warm knuckle over his cheekbone.

"You are going to enjoy saying that now, aren't you?" he teased, willfully ignoring the state it put him in.

"Oh yes," Damen confirmed, brushing his nose along Laurent's hairline. "Now that I can't accidentally cause a scandal with the words."

"Mm," Laurent hummed, leaning into the touch like a cat. "Though you might cause a different one if you keep this up. I thought Akielons were supposed to be private."

"We are," Damen said against his temple, winding his other arm around his waist. "Very. I think we've put in our required time at this party. Are you ready to retire to our blessedly private marriage chamber?"

Laurent's brain quickly passed over the conversations he just had, and the plots he was beginning to suspect of happening within the court. 

As he grinned up at his husband, he decided it could all wait. Tonight was for them. About them. A time for peace and unity and the love that they had felt so sparingly in their own lives until they met each other. They would have the rest of their lives to root out machinations and defeat those that would try to hurt them or their loved ones. And Laurent wouldn't have it any other way.

"Let's go, husband."