goldenboywrites

[goldenboywrites]

waves

“Are we still on tomorrow?” Quin turns his head at Cesare’s words, the fireworks display happening in front of them taking a backseat to the boy talking to him. Nothing had ever held Quin’s attention quite like Cesare did. “We only have over a month to finish our summer bucket list.” That summer, Quin turned fourteen, and his birthday wishes finally came true. He had Cesare to himself the entire summer. Max had a job and a girlfriend; it was not that he had to work, but he had gotten in trouble with their uncle before the school year ended, and the job was a lesson. Sure, he missed his big brother as he imagined Cesare missed his best friend, but the two had filled their entire summer vacation with things to do and places to explore.

“Of course,” Quin answered with a crooked grin. He elbowed Cesare’s side and then turned back towards the fireworks. This was another checkmark off of their list. Quin had never seen the fireworks before; it was usually too loud for him and too many people. Cesare knew this about him, and while there was a crowd of people, Cesare had procured them a section further back, isolated on a hilltop. While it was nice, he realized a few minutes into the show that he preferred watching Cesare watch the fireworks. He pulled out their summer notebook from his bag and flipped a few pages in, using his phone’s flashlight feature to illuminate the pages they created together. “I got us tickets to the art show at the museum, and then we can try that new ice cream shop down the street.” That checked off two. The last item on their list would be tricky; Quin brushed his finger over it—a road trip. Cesare had gotten his license that year and begged Quin to go somewhere with him for the weekend. His uncle would never let him out of sight for that long, but he lived by the ‘better to ask for forgiveness than permission’ mantra. 

Quin spent the show's grand finale watching Cesare’s face light up with all the different colors, and when he dropped Quin off at home, he left Cesare with a promise of tomorrow and the rest of summer. 

As he watched Cesare drive off into the night, little did he know it was a promise he couldn’t keep. 

Quin stepped up to the front door and ignored the uneasiness that coursed through his body. It had been six years since he last stepped into his house. It had been six years since he last saw his brother. Six years since he had been back in the city he had grown up in. Not by choice - not like Quin ever had much of a choice. He remembered his last night fondly, fireworks, Cesare, and the rest of their summer plans. Their trip to the museum, the ice cream shop, and the road trip to wherever. 

Now Quin made his own decisions. He was officially twenty, and Quin’s inheritance could no longer be used against him to keep him silent and away. It took six years, but he made it out alive. His uncle, well, not so much. Officially, Quin was back home for the funeral. He doubted Max even knew his uncle had sent him away and forced him to stay away for six years. He imagined their uncle told him that it was Quin’s choice, that he didn’t want to be here, that he needed to spread his wings and emerge from his brother’s shadow. His uncle would never tell the truth, couldn’t really, and Quin much preferred that the truth be buried with him. 

He found the hidden key in the planter next to the door and unlocked it, stepping inside the house and inhaling deeply. It smelled the same as he remembered, but the decor and furniture differed. Max got Quin’s new number from his uncle’s cell when his uncle passed away, desperate to track down his long-lost brother and tell him of the news. Max had begged him to come back, for good this time. He told Quin about how he and Cesare lived at the house; he had bought it from the uncle after graduating. Max promised Quin’s room had been left untouched, a shrine of the fourteen-year-old who didn’t live there anymore. 

No more stalling. Quin stepped into the house, dropping his bag in the entryway. “Max?” He called out, feeling like he was walking through a stranger’s home, but he felt disgusting from the plane. Max had told him he might not make it home to greet him but assured him to make himself home if he wasn’t. “Are you here?” Quin called out, walking up the steps towards the bedrooms. He spied his bedroom door cracked open, so he made a beeline for it, pushing the door open all the way, but then Quin stopped dead at the sight of someone napping in his bed. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. It may have been six years since he had last seen or talked to Cesare, but Quin would recognize him anywhere. 

Because he had spent the last six years looking for Cesare in every crowd, fantasizing about him coming to get Quin and bringing him home. It never happened, but Quin never stopped wishing for it. 

He cleared his throat roughly, watching Cesare’s brow furrowed and his nose scrunched at the sound. Watching the man wake up was mildly fascinating, but it was hardly graceful as he sensed another presence watching him. Cesare nearly jumped out of his skin, clutching the blankets to his chest, his face pale and mouth opened. Max hadn’t told him Quin was returning to town. Knowing his brother, Max probably wanted to make it a big surprise but got tied up with work and forgot to give his best friend a heads-up. 

Quin couldn’t tell from Cesare’s expression if he was a good or bad surprise. He couldn’t even tell if Cesare knew who he was. The last time they had been together was when Quin was going through puberty, and he had braces and a shitty fashion sense. He was different now, more defined and aware of the space he occupied. Quin’s body had stayed on the smaller, more petite side, but his braces had come off, his acne had cleared, he had learned how to style his hair without making it look styled, and he knew what clothes accented his best features. He wasn’t the awkward fourteen-year-old boy who ran after Cesare. They were both adults, both on an even playing field now. 

“Was the bed in bedroom one too soft?” Quin smirked, tapping his fingers against his elbow. “Was the bed in the second bedroom too hard?” He raised a brow, tilting his head to the side. “Is this one just right, hmm, goldilocks?”

[goldenboywrites]

meet me in the woods

Marcus breathed it all in slowly. There was nothing quite like returning to Hogwarts. This time, it was bittersweet. He was bitter because he was in his seventh year, his last year attending the school, and coming out of a bad breakup with his first-ever boyfriend. Sweet because he had been named Headboy, and Alex had been named Quidditch captain. It would be their year; he felt it in his bones. He had left his sixth year feeling sorry for himself, with lower marks than usual, and slightly depressed because Declan hadn’t taken him seriously, but Marcus refused to be that boy again this year. 

When he arrived at his solo dorm (courtesy of being head boy), a letter from the headmaster from the headmaster was waiting for him on his bed, requesting a meeting after he settled in. Marcus unpacked quickly, changed into his brand-new Gryffindor robes, and then took a moment to soak it all in. This was everything he had worked for and wanted, and he achieved it, even after having been so horrible and distracted last year. 

It did not take him long to get to the headmaster’s office, and when he arrived, Marcus saw that he wasn’t alone. Tall, blonde, and handsome sat in front of the headmaster’s desk, the two men whispering to each other. 

“Marcus,” the headmaster greeted as he stepped in. The man beckoned him to take a seat next to the stranger. He did, after realizing he had stopped breathing and was staring at the man. Meet our new professor, Nikolai Korolenko. He came here from Durmstrang to spend his first year teaching with us.” The headmaster spoke proudly, almost bragging about poaching this man from Durmstrang. “Nikolai,” He said as Marcus looked between them. “This is one of our brightest students and head boy, Marcus Coventry. I’ve brought him here to have him show you around the school before the term starts. I know you’ve been settling in already, but seeing the school from a student’s perspective may benefit you.” The headmaster smiled, and Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to know what class Professor Korolenko was going to teach. He wanted to ensure he was in that class so he could spend the better part of his day getting lost in the stare of those blue eyes. 

Then he realized he would have to spend time with the professor, showing him around. Fuck. Marcus doubted he could handle that without making a complete ass of himself. But no, he needed to remember that this was his year. He wouldn’t let blonde, strong, attractive men intimidate him. He was head boy, for Merlin’s sake, and on the Quidditch team. He could do this. He could be the perfect head boy and impress the fuck out of this young, clearly talented professor. Depending on what he would teach, maybe Marcus could find a mentor. 

After a few moments, Marcus realized both men were staring at him. Dammit. He laughed forcefully and smiled at the headmaster. “I would be honored.” 

Both Marcus and Professor Korolenko stood up. Marcus’ elbow brushed the man’s arm, sending little electric shocks through his body. Weird. “Oh, Marcus,” He turned at the headmaster’s voice, raising a brow at the man. “Show Professor Korolenko the grounds first.” Marcus nodded confirmation. 

They walked through the castle side by side. Marcus glanced at the man occasionally to see him deep in thought. “Why the grounds?” Marcus asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Are you teaching Care of Magical Creatures or something? I know the grounds quite well, so it’s no bother,” He said, smiling at the professor. “I spent a lot of time patrolling the border of the forest when I was a prefect and probably will do the same this year as head boy. You know, stick to what you know, right?” He laughed nervously, and they exited the castle. The brisk, cool fall air settled around them. Marcus lead them down the stone steps toward the forest line. “Anything specific you feel like seeing?”

@magiclwritings

[goldenboywrites]

Quin’s breath caught in his throat at the feeling of Cesare’s fingers grazing across his knuckles. He looked at the prince, wondering if this was it. Quin had been waiting for the betrayal since they started this thing between them. Was he to feel relief? That he had been right all along, that he had known at some point everyone betrays everyone? That the cruel realities of the world were just as he suspected. Or was he to feel disappointment? The man fell off the side because he had placed Cesare on a pedestal.

It would be a relief to be right and have the proof to pull back into himself and shut out Cesare for good. To protect his heart, body, and soul from the hurt that came alongside love. How devastating it would be to walk away from him forever. It would kill him, but he would do it.

Cesare kneeled before him, and Quin met his gaze straight on. He listened to him, jaw clenched, the fight bubbling inside him. And then, as suddenly as it fired him up, it cooled down. Quin huffed, body sagging with relief. Say what you want about Beau, but he wasn’t a good enough fuck to make a future king kneel before him. And his words, Cesare only spoke so softly, so delicately to one person. He knew. “I hate you,” Quin muttered, face reddening with embarrassment over being caught. He sighed, long and drawn out, before throwing himself backward, his back bouncing from the plushness of the bed. He couldn’t bear to look at Cesare until he felt more composed. Because Quin knew what was coming next, a conversation. He had no one but himself to blame for it.

“What gave it away?” He asked softly, tossing his forearm over his eyes because Cesare's stupid, smug face was the last thing he wanted to see. Beau’s earlier comments came back to haunt him at that moment. Was he indeed so bad at all of this? Was it a pity that made Cesare fuck him? Was he so incapable of seduction that Cesare had known it was him the whole time? Did he fumble with it that much? “It’s nothing,” Quin said softly, turning his head to the left and meeting Cesare’s gaze. “A test to see if it would work,” He explained, swallowing down every insecurity like nails. “I debated Beau’s use and thought I could use him as a spy. A way for me to be in two places at once. I probably still can do it with those who do not know me as well and aren’t as obsessed with me as you are. Have I mentioned today how infuriating that trait of yours is?” He forced a smile. But hopefully, it would be enough to convince Cesare to avoid a conversation. “That’s all.”

As tired as he was this little whatever had to be settled tonight. Cesare felt him off since the carriage ride and even more so after they'd spoken to his father. Perhaps he was just too in tune with Quin and needed to separate the two but that didn't feel right. Feeling what this man did and felt was important and even if he couldn't see the reason for this. Though he was starting to understand with the way Quin was now speaking.

The way his body was more pliable and the one of his voice. He was trying to seduce him but pretending to be the other to do it. Clever boy. The smirk returned to his lips and he thought just a moment longer on the question. He wanted to make him sweat. Especially after what they'd said to each other just a short while ago. "I won't go against his wishes." He spoke firmly but only because he needed to say it out loud first for them both to hear. Because he never would. He had questions, of course, as he'd expect Quin to have of him; but if it were truly something he wanted then Cesare knew he could handle it. "I believe he sees you as another pawn of his uncle and maybe feels sorry for you." He in fact had no evidence to support that but it sounded nice. And it couldn't all be a lie.

Cesare sighed at the sight of him. Because as much as he found this to be fun, he just wanted to hold on to the prince. They'd been separated for far too long and just to know that he was safe. Back with his brother and away from anything that could possibly hurt him. It was the first time in a long while the prince's stomach wasn't in complete knots. "But maybe." He paused, moving his hand down to touch the other's. His fingers lightly stroked the back of his knuckles just them. "Maybe you could say what it is you really want and then we might see about it being a possibility." He was dancing on very shaky ground just then and he knew it. But slowly he bent down until his knee his the stone beneath where he stood and he took in all of the other prince.

"All you have to do is ask it and I'd tell you the truth of it." That was a line directly for Quin. Cutting through this bullshit for just a moment, he'd wondered if he realized Cesare had caught on to his little plan but he continued as if he didn't. "I haven't lied to you yet. Nor do I plan to start." He sighed to himself and felt his lids drift closed for just a moment. That goblet of wine was a bit more full than he'd realized. And on an empty stomach, he was swirling a little more than he'd like. "What more can I do for you?"

[goldenboywrites]

Beckett shuffled from one foot to the other, a wave of guilt washing over him as Grady threw back his lie in his face. He sheepishly looked at the man, shrugging his shoulders. “I had to be careful,” He said, then, “We’re in the middle of a civil war, and you were in a temple dedicated to kings from my family line.” Elias’ head snapped to Beckett at the mention of the temple. 

“So this is…?” He asked, and Beck raised a hand to stop him.

“Right now, Grady is someone who needs food and dry clothes. Bring him some. We’ll camp here and resume our journey tomorrow.” The men set off to work, unrolling their bedrolls and gathering resources for a fire. Elias remained beside them, studying Beckett’s face for a long, silent moment. “My King, I-”

They both heard Grady’s soft-spoken question. Elias looked at the man as if he had grown two heads while Beckett remained neutral. “Elias, leave us.” 

Instead of doing as ordered, Elias stepped up to Beckett, holding his elbow to keep him still. His gaze left Grady's face only when his most trusted companion was in front of him. “You shouldn’t be alone with him,” He whispered, turning his head to ensure Grady was still far from them. “Even I cannot ignore the similarities between them, Beck. It’s not…” Elias sighed, rubbing his free hand across his face. “Until we know more about him…”

“He has not harmed me, nor does he have anything on him that would hurt me. I will be fine. Trust that I know what I’m doing, Elias. Go get him some dry clothes.” With one final look between them, Elias sighed heavily and then turned to walk away.

“I apologize for my men. They’re merely doing their duty. I hope you will not hold it against them.” He walked towards Grady, pressing a hand to the man’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly. “To answer your question, it is 1180 currently. I cannot give you the exact date. We’ve been traveling for some time, and before our travels, I was not in a position where I was given the date. Time is a bit fuzzy for me right now.” Elias returned to them, handing off folded clothes to Beckett before grumbling under his breath and leaving them again. “I think there are a few things I need to explain to you.” He handed the dry clothes to Grady, pressing them into his hands. “You change, and I’ll talk.” 

He ushered Grady towards the shelter of some trees and turned around to preserve his dignity. “I am King Beckett of Esterris. I’ve only held the crown for a couple of years now after losing my father to poor health. About a month ago, my brother took the throne for himself and faked my death. I’ve been fighting back and trying to reclaim what is rightfully mine before my brother can damage my people and country more, but it has been challenging. My people have lost hope; they believe me to be dead.” 

Beck cleared his throat, turning his head to the side after hearing a branch snap in half. “My family believes the temple I found you at is sacred. It was gifted to the Kings of my line by the Gods. I prayed there tonight, and you popped out of the spring when I was done. I think they sent you to me for a reason, Grady. You were sent to me to bring me back to my people.”

Grady took in everything that this man was saying. Because for all he could stand, nothing was making any sense to him. He hated to feel completely out of control but it was really clear that this man was his only option if he wanted to stay alive. The short walk they'd taken showed absolutely nothing. And when he meant nothing, he meant civilization as he knew it. There weren't a plethora of people around and concrete and ... electricity. If he thought much more about it, he was pretty sure he was going to commit himself. But he stayed, listening of whatever he was talking about. Some city or town maybe. Maybe they were near by? Possibly not. The way he spoke of them didn't alarm him but made him curious. So much so that he hadn't noticed they weren't alone.

His hands were up and he kept himself as still as possible while that blade was drawn though Beck didn't seem to sweat it which he found odd, until he didn't. Because why wouldn't he find himself in a weird far away place with a king or prince or whatever the hell this man just called him. He nearly pissed himself just waiting for that blade to slice into his flesh. It really would have served him right. What did he really have any business doing here? And walking with his king? He was just an intern. Granted he was in his last year of residency. Shit he was going to miss his rounds on Friday. Why does that matter?

His brain was able to finally stop when the sword was down. He didn't miss the glint of annoyance on the man's face as he did so. Clearly, he was looking for a fight. Or a reason to blow off steam. Either way, Grady felt the shift when he'd retreated and he took just a moment to gather himself. His hands rested on his chest and he patted himself down to just make sure he was all still really there. He blew out a long, slow breath and took in the other man again. "Just a knight, huh?" He asked with a bit of an edge to his voice. His hands ran down the soft material one more time and he felt his posture improve. He suddenly felt awkward. Everything he knew about kings was based soley off of movies and television. He'd had a small thing for the knights of the round table when he was younger but not enough to really grasp at much of anything more.

It was then that Grady took a look around. How primitive everything really was. When they were back at the temple or church or whatever he'd called it, it was easier to dismiss. But on this large of a scale, he couldn't really rationalize it away anymore. This isn't even rational. His hand instinctively moving to rest over his heart. It was pounding against it's mushy container and Grady truly felt something slip in him. As if the world had just been pulled out from under him. "Wh-what." He started, finally turning back to look at Beck. "S-sorry." He coughed, attempting to regain some control. Though the thundering under his hand told him it was all but gone. "What's the date today? I mean the full date as best as you can tell me."

Never had he asked such a loaded question and he stood in what felt like a vacuum just waiting for that pretty mouth to confirm his doom.

[goldenboywrites]

“I’m not mad, just so you know,” Oliver whispered to Cassio as they made their way out of the kitchen and toward the living room. He tugged on the blonde’s sleeve, stopping him in the hallway before the living room. Oliver wrapped his arms around Cass’ waist, pulling his boyfriend into a hug. “The history between you guys doesn’t bother me. I just saw the look on Isaac’s face, and I felt bad.” They all knew Cassio walked on eggshells around Isaac. Oliver thought it would get better when they weren’t all at uni together, but then Cassio and Apollo started a business together, and nothing changed. He thought about asking Cass what Apollo had said, but he knew better. He knew there was a good reason if his boyfriend kept things from him. He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on the corner of Cassio’s mouth, slipping his hand in his and lacing their fingers together. He had forgiven Cassio for his secrets back when they were in school, but he didn’t forget about them either. 

He pulled Cassio into the living room and stopped in the doorway. The bags he had brought for Theodore had exploded everywhere. Every toy box had been ripped to shreds, and the toddler sat in the middle of all the chaos, playing with a toy train happily. At the sound of their steps, the little boy turned, flashing them the wildest and brightest smile he had ever seen. “Uncle Ollie!! Uncle Cassie, come play with me.” 

Oliver pulled Cassio to the center of the room. He sat down next to Theodore and picked up the blue train. Oliver wheeled it around in a circle and then pretended to crash into the red one Theodore was playing with. “Theodore,” he said gently, “I’m so happy to see you again. Remind me, when was the last time we got to hang out? I feel like it’s been forever.” 

Theodore chewed on his bottom lip, mulling it over in his mind. “Mmm, dad’s birfday, I think,” he said, seemingly satisfied with that answer because he went back to playing with his train. 

“What did we do for his birthday?” he asked, shooting a quick glance at Cassio because they both knew what they had done. They had thrown a surprise party for Apollo because the man had refused to do anything celebratory, and Oliver loved to press his buttons. 

“The prize party,” Theodore replied, that wild, feral grin on his face. “He was big mad.” They had broken into their home before Apollo came home with Isaac’s blessing, so it wasn’t breaking in. When Apollo walked in, he looked at them, shook his head, and pouted in his bedroom. Maybe he pouted, but that was unconfirmed, and he didn’t come back down until Isaac went and got him. He remembered the night quite well but knew Theodore hadn’t been there. Yet he had details of the day as if he was. How? When Apollo’s almost-wife was never there, 

Theodore played mindlessly, and Oliver turned to look at Cassio.

_______________

Not many things intimidated Apollo for his entire life; intimidation had been used against him to keep him in line. Eventually, it stopped working. But the look on Isaac’s face was enough to bring it all back to the front. Apollo felt like a little boy standing before him with his hand in the cookie jar. For a moment, he wondered if this would be enough for Isaac to leave him. If this were the last misstep, he would have freely given Apollo. He moved towards Isaac before stopping himself; his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood in front of his boyfriend.

“Isaac,” He started, wringing his hands together before he shook his head and moved to his boyfriend. “Baby, listen to me.” Apollo cradled the man’s face in his hands, brushing his curls away from his face. He held Isaac’s glare confidently, unwaveringly. “I had panic attacks growing up. Cassio taught me Russian to help quiet my mind when everything got overwhelming. It makes me stop and think. It’s a distraction.” It was not technically a lie because that was how it started until they realized it gave them a way to communicate together without prying ears. He brushed his thumb across Isaac’s cheekbone. “It’s not secrets; it wasn’t even directed at him. I was just commenting. He didn’t even say anything back to me. I just was too in my head, and saw him and slipped into it like I was 14 years old again.”

He pulled Isaac to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and molding his body against his boyfriend’s, waiting for him to return the hug. Stubborn, Apollo thought, but he hadn’t pushed him away yet. “I’ll teach you,” He whispered, soothingly brushing his fingers along Isaac’s neck. “If you want, you can know what is being said so you don’t ever feel left out again.” He propped his chin on Isaac’s shoulder, looking up at his stoic boyfriend. “I didn’t call him for help, Isaac,” Apollo spoke softly, “I called you. You say the word, and I'll kick them both out, and we can figure this out ourselves."

The weight of Apollo's arm around his waist was truly more than he could deal with at that moment. Though he made no gesture to stop him from touching, Isaac went completely rigid feeling Apollo getting closer. This was just like it had been back in college. All the secrets and strange happenings. Only this time the problem was sitting a room away, drooling all over himself. He supposed that was better than an entire fiance and wedding just waiting at the drop of a hat. But Isaac kept his gaze forward and merely smiled at Oliver because he didn't trust his own voice not to betray him at that moment.

Cass didn't dare reply to him when he'd caught the tone in Oliver's voice. But he couldn't deny that Apollo had a point. While the other two didn't know what they were up to, it was entirely possible that it was something they would do. But why a child? That was what he couldn't understand. Of all the crazy things to happen or even be possible, a child seemed far too much a risk. His mind was racing with possibilities and what ifs. "He only said it was crazy and he couldn't believe something like this was happening." He quickly interjected, taking Apollo's point to detour both Isaac and Oliver off this subject as smoothly and quickly as possible. "I think anyway."

He'd slid himself behind Oliver and brought his hand slowly up the center of his back. "I almost didn't recognize it." He told Apollo and the other two. Which was a complete lie. His grandfather would have been insulted to hear either of them say it was just a stupid language. A strong, noble language. Just as their dancers. "I guess that's my fault for not keeping up with it." He felt a little laugh accompany that but he was too busy tangling his fingers through Oliver's hair just then. But what if he's right? Cass glanced over at Apollo, being careful to avoid Isaac at all costs in that moment. "But maybe you're right. We might be able to get something he may not be willing to tell the both of you." He turned and leaned in to kiss Oliver's cheek and sighed. "If nothing else perhaps we can at least make some use of the toy store Uncle Ollie has seemed to acquired today." He teased and drug Oliver behind him and out of the kitchen before he could actually protest. He was damn glad for it too. The blond drew in a deep breath but it did little to slow the trains and trains of thoughts no littering his head and he and Apollo couldn't discuss in private. He doubted they would the rest of the night at this rate.

The door swung shut behind the two and it felt as though the walls and swallowed them. Isaac turned on Apollo with fury glaring in his eyes. There had always been an understanding since the beginning. Cass and Apollo were sort of a package deal. Where one went, the other followed. And for a while it had been fine but at some point, Isaac had hoped that need between them would have died down. Especially with both he and Oliver in the picture. Both relationships flourished but then there was just always what that was between Apollo and Cassio. Isaac wasn't sure if it was jealousy but there was always just something, some part of Apollo that he would never have. And Cass would. And it irritated him into his very soul. "Wha' the fuck was tha'?" He asked so abruptly he damn near startled himself.

Isaac sniffled slightly, settling into his own body without Apollo's warmth against him. It stung, and given the rest of their day, all he had wanted was just to take this slow and figure it out without involving everyone else and their nine aunts twice removed. Instead, there were at least three, possibly four if Apollo had found a moment to get a word out to his sister, that they now had a toddler in their possession that was calling the both of them dad. "You tell me wha' ya said to hi' righ' now Apollo o' I swear I ..." He trailed off, feeling the fury rushing through his veins and he drew in a deep breath, calming himself for just the briefest of moments. "I will no' allow secrets. I don' know wha's goin' on wi'h this kid bu' you will no' keep things from me." He felt how cold his gaze must have been before he continued. "Especially no' if this has somethin' to do wi'h her o' your family o' the blonde in the otha room." He paused, feeling his mouth go dry as he spoke again. "Wha' did ya say to him?"

[goldenboywrites]

Interesting. So that was how Beau knew where Cesare kept his dagger. However, it still did not convince Quin enough that nothing happened. He knew that if Cesare walked into a room thinking it was Quin, it would be a matter of seconds before he had his hands on him. He also, unfortunately, knew Beau as well. He wouldn’t refuse to bed anyone. It was how he got his way, made a living, and gathered secrets. “Have I been too subtle?” Quin questioned, picking an invisible bit of lint off his shirt. Then, he looked up at Cesare and raised a brow at him. “Fine, maybe I don’t wish to relive that part of the night, but the part before when you thought I was your damsel in distress.” 

It was difficult not to smile at Cesare’s words. Quin was flattered that his betrothed knew him down to his bones. “He’ll only kill me if he finds out. I don’t think you’ll be eager to tell him of my visit. You know how he’d be if he found out we were alone like this.” Despite his growing frustration over the lack of details Cesare was sharing, Quin refused to let it show on his face. He kept Beau’s trademark smirk and lazy, drawl tone. Perhaps he should have felt guilty over tricking Cesare like this, and while it was about collecting the truth, it was also a test to see if it could be done. If his trickery fooled Cesare, then they could trick others as well. It meant that Quintus could be in two places at once. 

“I don’t believe there’s nothing you can do. We’re in your country, and you outrank Quintus. He would have to listen if you put your foot down, yet you refuse to do that. Aren’t you worried about the time he and I will spend together? What if I decide to tell him myself? Everything that happened, everything we discussed.” Cesare walked closer to the bed, and Quin leaned back on his elbows, eyeing the prince like Beau did when they were in the carriage. “That doesn’t seem like it would end well for you.” 

“Harsh?” Quin repeated, a bubble of laughter coming out of his mouth; Cesare was close enough to see the details of his face, the color of his eyes, which were slightly off from Beau’s, yet there was nothing in his words or expression to prove that he knew any better. Quin didn’t know if he was disappointed or happy about that revelation. “Yeah, I would say he’s being harsh. It’s his only setting.” And there it was, an opening. Quin swallowed, hoping he was wrong. “Really?” He whispered, looking up at Cesare from under his lashes. He spread his legs open, much like he had the night he and Cesare spent together before everything went to shit. “You sure there’s nothing I can do? I don’t think that’s true at all. In my experience, there is always a way one can be persuaded. Name it.”

The tray clanked against his desk as he set it down and he tried to put his thoughts together quickly. He hadn't been expecting to entertain Beau again. Hell, he was pretty damn sure that with Quintus in charge of his well being, he'd barely see him if it could be helped. But still he couldn't be rude. He had a feeling if he even attempted to run him out of here, he'd run back and tell Quin something truly awful. He sighed and made to grab the jug of wine he'd brought up for the both of them and uncorked it, pouring himself a full glass.

"Beau," He started out, still hunched over his desk. Cesare took the glass and a deep drink followed. "I don't know what you're looking to get out of me." He answered quite plainly, the prince turned around and looked at him again. Those dark eyes looking too intently at him. "And if you'd like to pick up where we left off, you'd need to retrieve my blade you left in the pompous, lard head of a man that's trying to fuck you and Quintus and now apparently me over until death." He sighed and took another deep drink of wine. The warmth pooling in his belly and it felt nice. The tension he'd been carrying was starting to ease but not loosen entirely. No he'd wait for Quintus to come back before any of that happened.

The prince popped a few bits of dark chocolate into his mouth followed by some cheese. Quin had been right when he said to get food. Perhaps that was a good sign, if he had appetite then maybe ... Cesare realized he was drifting but found himself unable to focus completely. "He's going to kill you when he finds you're out when you're not supposed to be you know. And I'm inclined to look the other way." That was half a joke, though he'd never allow actual harm to come to this man. He had saved them after all. "There's nothing I can do if this is what Quintus wants. I'm sure he's already spoken to Max but I will try and see what I can do." The prince polished off his wine and found a bit of bread to tide him over some more. A soft moan left his lips tasting the freshness of it. Gods he really should have eaten before getting up here. He had no idea why he hadn't. "But I did promise you'd be free and I doubt Quin truly wants to hold someone against their will. He may just be looking to give you a ... what do they call it ... ah." He smiled, brushing the crumbs from his fingers and he finally walked closer to him "A taste of your own medicine."

It was only then that he'd realized it wasn't Beau he was speaking to. The way the light reflected off Quin's eyes and that subtle tilt of his mouth, he knew him quite well. But it was clear there was some kind of game to be played here. He'd bite for the time being. Besides, it would serve him right to pull a stunt on him like this. "Maybe he's being too harsh. It's truly not for me to decide." He shrugged, smiling softly. "I'm not sure you could change my mind even if there were something to be done."

[goldenboywrites]

Scorpius was surprised that Albus willingly came into the store without a fuss. Part of him expected the man behind him to cause a scene. He would deserve it. After all, Scorpius was the one who abandoned not only Albus but their entire friend group. He hadn’t told a single soul except for Teddy that he was leaving the country after he graduated. He watched Albus board the train with Rose, knowing their plans to meet up a few days later would never happen. Their plans to rent a small, cramped apartment together in the city would not occur. The dream of life after Hogwarts they had discussed wouldn’t become a reality. 

It wasn’t Albus’ fault that he left, but he knew the man well enough to know that he probably had blamed himself for it. He agonized and scrutinized every moment the two had shared in those last months, trying to pinpoint the exact moment Scorpius had pulled away. He wouldn’t find it. Scorpius had always been a good actor. 

“Thank you, I-” It started with a giggle. One that startled Scorpius into silence. Then Albus’ giggle turned into a full-blown hysterical fit of laughter that shook his shoulders. With wide eyes, Scorpius watched the man get it all out of his system. He waited patiently for Albus to settle. For a moment, Scorpius thought his presence here broke the man, and he felt guilty for not sending an owl to give him a head’s up, but Lily hadn’t told him which Scorpius, if he had to admit it, was banking on her inability to keep her mouth shut to do it for him. So, of course, this was the one time she wasn’t the biggest gossip within their friend group. Probably her way of punishing Scorpius for everything he had put them through. The funny thing was, he didn’t blame her. 

“Sure,” He said, tapping his finger against the table before standing up in one fluid motion. He walked to the counter, disappearing behind it before standing back up with a bottle of whisky. Scorpius made his way back to the table, twisting the lid off the bottle and placing it in the center. “No shot glasses, though, so we’ll have to share the bottle.” 

He gave Albus the first swig. Scorpius sat back down, leaning against the chair and crossing his leg over his knee. He wanted to tell Albus everything. Why he had left, how he had to lose everything to build a healthier version of himself, and that he did it all with the hope that they would find each other again and be able to start up with their thing again. But he couldn’t admit all of that now. Albus had somebody. Albus was in a serious relationship, according to Lily. He had torn Albus’ life apart when he left, and he didn’t want to tear it apart again by returning to it. 

“It’s not that exciting,” Scorpius's gaze dropped to the table, his shoulders shrugging. “Most of the time, I traveled to different countries, learning new potions and techniques. I spent most of my time volunteering to create potions for those in need. After all of these years away, I finally realized I had learned enough to come back and open a shop of my own.” Mostly truth. “It felt like I needed to grow roots somewhere, and this was the only place I thought of.” Scorpius leaned forward, taking the bottle. “Lily had told me you lived upstairs,” He explained, pausing to take a mouthful of the liquid. The burning sensation as he swallowed kept him steady. “I should have written you. Not about coming back, I mean, I should have done that, but I mean, I should have written you throughout the time I was gone, but I knew if you asked me to come home, I would have without a second thought and Albus, I know you don’t understand, but I needed to not be here. I needed to isolate myself and find myself out there. If I had stayed here, I would have dest-�� Scorpius cut himself off abruptly, taking a swig from the bottle before passing it back to Albus. “Anyways, I don’t expect things to go back to how they were at school, but I hope we can find a way to coexist.”

He'd been vaguely aware that the probability of his mouth hanging open at that moment was astronomically high. Because as he lived and breathed that blonde hair was darting around the space below his apartment like nothing at all had ever been more right in his life. And it was absolutely morbid curiosity that propelled his body into that space. There was no other way to explain it other than some sort of pure carnal itch he needed to engage with. There had been whispers of Scorpius from Teddy and various others through the years he'd been away but he swore he hadn't changed since that last day at Hogwarts. That last look he'd gotten of the other Slytherin before Rose ushered him onto the train to head home for the final time.

Al watched the the chairs and table assemble so effortlessly. It was then he'd remembered just how eloquent the magic coming from this particular individual had always looked and felt. A bit of envy still welled in his chest and quietly did just as he'd suggested. It was only then that he'd really had a chance to look at the space itself. The wine bottle and cake secured on the table, Albus took a small look around the room with the millions of thoughts doing just the same in his head. Lily had known. She'd helped set this up, but why? Did Teddy know? Rose? How many others were holding this secret from him. Not that they really needed to justify anything they did. Lily most likely got three times the rent she'd normally have. Clever. "It's .. n-nice. A lot nicer than anyone else that's been here." He offered, truly unsure what the hell to say to this man now looking at him expectantly.

It was then that his eyes landed on Scorpius and he truly took him in. He was starting to look more and more like Draco. He'd always thought that even when they were younger but now with some years on him and time away. There was no question how truly strong those Malfoy genetics really were. It was then that he'd felt himself giggle a little under his breath and he'd done his best to stifle it in that moment. His teeth digging into to his lower lip to keep it at bay. Al drew in a deep breath through his nose and he sighed to himself. "I'm sorry." He started, crossing his arms over his chest and he let his head drop for just a moment trying to gather himself before a true laughing fit to hold. But another giggle erupted from his lips and this time he just couldn't stop.

Albus laughed and laughed until tears were streaming down his face. Because what was the actual rational response to this? He was hunched over then, his stomach starting to contract in the most uncomfortable way. He tried drawing in deeper breaths only to have them stifled by another roar of laughter that lasted only another moment. "S-sorry." He shook out and gasped softly. The need for air was overriding the hilarity of the moment and Al found himself damn near gasping as he came to stand right. "You can't really just be standing here below my apartment right now." His arms holding onto himself as if it were the only thing that would keep him in place at that moment.

All those nights he wondered and hoped that there was something, somewhere that would make Scorpius just leave like that. That there was a reason and that he just had to figure out what it was. But there was nothing. And there had been nothing for years and now that blonde hair and damn near grey eyes were looking at him as if they expected the world of him. But did he? Did he really owe him anything? Did either of them owe the other? Al sighed softly and motioned towards the wine behind him. "Think we might need more than that to toast this place." He offered, because the reality was that it was clear that Scorpius was intent on having this business. And he should. Albus had his own life and maybe, just maybe Lily had turned a new leaf and was wanting to help him. Maybe they had all grown past what was in the past. "I think you've got a few things to catch me up on if you're going ot be running business under my bedroom." He teased, but was in all other matters serious about that. Mostly he just wanted to know what the fuck had happened and where he'd been. All so he could go and throttle his sister and Teddy and the rest of the delinquents in this damn family when he was done.

[goldenboywrites]

“I can’t imagine they stayed in touch with her after…everything,” Apollo explained, crossing his arms over his chest after Cassio let his hand go. It was an assumption at best. Everything during that period was intense and generally destructive to the two families. Apollo hasn’t been in contact with his parents since. He imagined it was the same for her. “Her parents were just as strict about a pureblood marriage as mine were. Theodore hasn’t mentioned a dad other than referring to both Isaac and myself as his fathers, so I can’t imagine she’s married. If she and I didn't get married, having a child out of wedlock wouldn’t cause a lasting rift between her and her parents.” 

Apollo opened his mouth to answer Cassio, but Isaac beat him. He looked between the two most influential people in his life and felt the thick tension in the air. Of course, he knew the two were cordial with each other because they had to be, and he knew the tension between them mostly came from Isaac, as Cassio really couldn’t be bothered. It was something Apollo had always avoided discussing with Isaac, hoping it would just go away one day. Apollo would have had that conversation if he had known all of this would happen. He wished he had because Isaac was going to be fucking furious in a moment. 

Because Apollo had to talk to Cassio, it couldn’t wait, and he knew without a doubt that going off into another room with the blonde would send his boyfriend over the edge. So he did something slightly just as wrong. 

“Ya ne znayu, kto yeshche znayet.” Apollo did not look at Isaac as he spoke but felt his chin leave his shoulder. He did not look back at his boyfriend; there was too much of a crowd to see his face. Instead, he watched as Cassio’s gaze snapped at him. “Mozhet byt', oni poslali yego ko mne.” Every inch of Apollo felt guilty for using Russian to communicate with Cassio, to keep Isaac out of the conversation, but it was imperative. He couldn’t just talk about their actual employer out of in the open. Learning Russian was something stupid for them as teenagers. A way for them to speak in private while in a crowded room. They hadn’t used it in years. Until that desperate moment, Apollo had forgotten they had done it. “Ya khochu poiskat' yego vospomin-”

“Some would consider it rude to speak in another language when others who don’t speak it are present,” Oliver cut Apollo off, coming to stand next to Isaac. He looked between the two of them, hands on his hips. He nudged Isaac with his elbow. “Wouldn’t you agree, Isaac?” 

Apollo then turned to face Isaac and yearned to reach out, wanting physical contact to ensure he was okay. Isaac wouldn’t cause a scene in front of them. No, he wouldn’t display a weakness like that in front of Cassio. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Apollo said softly, reaching to wrap his arm around Isaac’s waist, his attempt at testing the waters. “It’s just a thing we did growing up. I don’t speak it often, and I haven’t in years, actually, but when I’m overwhelmed, it helps me center myself sometimes, you know, thinking about the words and dictation. Quiets the brain.” Always the smooth talker, always the liar. “If you and Cassio sit with him for a bit, maybe you can see something we didn’t, but I wouldn’t waste any time. He ate his weight in pancakes, and I’m sure he’ll pass out from all the carbs soon.”

It wasn't until Apollo had apologized to Oliver and Cassio for his tone that he'd realized his jaw had been set in a rigid hold. So much so that when he'd finally opened and took a breath both sides popped. His fingers squeezed Apollo's and he slid his hand free. A faint sheen of sweat had collected on his palm and so he rubbed it against his pants. He had to get himself together. Seeing that the little boy also recognized the pair of them had irked him more than the fact that had just showed up unannounced. He sighed and found himself regaining himself, calming down as quickly as he could manage. If he were going to be able to keep touching Apollo like that he couldn't influence his mood like that. Even if it had been unintentional. He wasn't ashamed but he felt bad that he couldn't just let somethings go yet.

"I don't think anyone has heard or seen from her since then either." Cassio chimed in. While he wasn't greatly acquainted with that particular wizarding family, most were still running their circles and gossiping all the while after. As much as he hated to admit, sometimes it was the only way to really find out anything about anyone. "Mungos? And you were the only one to contact? What about her parents?" He'd almost regretted suggesting it as soon as it had come out but still. Cass stepped in and nudged himself under Oliver's arm for his warmth and comfort. "I mean I'm sure they don't have the highest opinions of you or ... Isaac but surely they'd know their daughter was missing, right?" He looked to Oliver and sighed, knowing that may not be true. With so many in his boyfriend's family he wondered how his poor parents kept up with all of them.

"Orion was probably right. Maybe with the four of us we could get more out of him?" He'd suggested, reaching his hand to pat Oliver's chest. "Uncle Ollie seems like he's got a handle on it already." The laugh that followed couldn't be helped. Because while this was absolutely terrifying, that part was still something that would stick with him for the rest of his life. "I mean it can't hurt. Does anyone else know about him?" He asked only Apollo that question, his gaze lingering a little longer than need be but he needed to know exactly what they needed to prepare for and only Apollo could tell him exactly who this could be.

"Jus' the hospital staff." Isaac butted in, snapping the blond out of his staring contest with Apollo. Breathe. He straightened and forced a smile to his lips. "You migh' be righ'. Oliver migh' be the one ta ge' somethin' ou' o' him." He nudged Apollo's shoulder, knowing he was going a mile a minute in his brain and no chance of slowing. "Maybe we can ta'e a brea'. Try an' ea' somethin' while Oliver an' Cassio talk ta him." He offered, knowing Apollo would resist but he needed so desperately to get him to focus on something else even if just for a moment. "He's no' goin' anywhere an' I thin' he's jus' scared." His lips pressed together and he breathed out through his nose. "I would be if the lo' o' us were actin' li'e I was a piece of gilly wee'." His shoulders shrugged and he bent in the rest his chin on Apollo's shoulder. "Wha' else ca' we do?"

[goldenboywrites]

Quin walked with Cesare at his side, his mind racing from everything that had happened. He was downright terrified for his uncle to find out about the engagement. There was no doubt in his mind that his uncle hadn’t figured out Cesare stole Quintus back from him. There was now just as much of a target on Cesare’s as on Quin’s. In truth, he didn’t know what his uncle’s next move would be, but he had a feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach that it would be war. Since he could not retrieve Max and Quin, he’d take Adros by force to get them back. 

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize Cesare was moving forward until Quintus was already wrapped up in his arms. He leaned his weight onto the prince, tucking his head beneath Cesare’s chin, his arms looping around his waist. “I need…” Quin started, then paused. He knew what he needed. He needed to know what happened on the border, specifically between Cesare and Beau. While he firmly believed that Cesare would never sleep with someone else, Beau was an actor. He was precise in his ability to impersonate Quintus. And he knew he could have asked Cesare outright for the story and get mostly a truthful answer in return. “I want to clean myself up, change out of these clothes, and then I need to see Max.” He pulled back, looking up at Cesare. “While I do that, you should go down to the kitchens and get us food, bring it up to your quarters, and I’ll meet you there when I’m done.” Quin leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Cesare’s chin. He could feel the prince’s protest in his bones. It was torture for Quintus to ask for time apart, even if it was for a couple of hours after reuniting. “I need this,” He said, squeezing Cesare’s waist. “Okay?” 

Quintus pressed himself against Cesare’s body again before pulling away, his hand sliding down to grip Cesare’s. “Go collect us a feast,” He said, walking backward until their connected hands were stretched out, still connecting them. Then he let out and turned around to head back to his quarters. 

Entering his rooms, Quintus sighed to see Beau sprawled out on his bed, flipping through one of his journals. “Riveting diary,” He said, closing the book with a snap. “I don’t appreciate being left out of club meetings when I’ve done so much to get you here.” 

Quin laughed, the sound echoing through the room. He stopped at the end of his bed to grab his journal from Beau’s hands. “You’ll be present when I want you to be present.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Beau sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I want to know what happened at the border,” Quin said, sitting on the chest at the bottom of his bed. “Specifically, what happened between you and Cesare.” 

“Ohhh,” Beau purred, crawling towards Quin. “I see.” He sat next to the prince, his back pressed up against the bedpost. “Someone is riddled with jealousy. Did my beloved prince sleep with another man?” Beau pressed a hand to his chest, pretending to be faint. “I have to say, Quintus, you’re fortunate. He is such a giving lover. And, honestly, feeling the weight of his body press you down into the bed…” Beau closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. “I’ve never experienced such a feeling of security and protection.” 

“He wouldn’t have been fooled. He would know it wasn’t me at some point and would have stopped.” Quin felt like he was going to be sick. Everything Beau said was the same thoughts Quintus had after sleeping with Cesare. “He knows me.”

Beau lazily opened his eyes, raising a brow at the prince. “Of course, he realized after a while. We may look the same and may have been trained to fuck by the same man, but I am far more experienced in this act than you are. Cesare is too good of a man to point out your inexperience, but we both know you lack skills in bed. Richard always mentioned how frigid you were in the sheets. Cesare noticed the same thing. Unfortunately, that is not something I can do in bed. Or maybe he just fucked me, so I would help him get you out; who knows.” 

“I don’t believe you.” But he did. Quin felt like he had been doused in cold water, his inner insecurities exposed to the room. He was open and bleeding from every word Beau had thrown at him. Every nerve in his body felt raw and exposed. “He is an honor-”

“He’s a man, a future King,” Beau said, snorting at Quin’s words. “He’s had lovers before; you know that just as I do. Fucking you was probably like fucking a virgin. You can’t blame him for seeking out someone who has experience. What did he tell you about that night?” Beau looked at Quin before his mouth curled into a villainous smirk. “Ah, I see. You haven’t. Interesting. Does that mean you’re staying in here tonight? Because you should know, I’m a cuddler…” 

________________________________

The prince was either out of his mind or had completely lost it. The verdict was still up in the air. 

Getting into Prince Cesare’s quarters was easy. Quintus had lived in the castle prior and had snuck into the prince’s quarters because they let him walk right in even though Cesare was not back yet. 

So he had some time to kill. He made himself comfortable in the room, lounging on the prince’s bed, limbs sprawled as if he owned the space. He had always been good with that, walking around with confidence and being able to claim space for himself. Growing up like he had, they would eat you alive if you didn’t. It also helped that he was a quick study, much like his counterpart. The more time he spent around him, the more he learned they were alike. Even if it pained him to admit it, there was no denying that. 

It was another twenty minutes until the door opened, and Cesare walked in, his face lighting up until his gaze spied the clothes he was wearing. A brief look of suspicion crossed his face. “Prince Cesare,” He purred, drawing out the prince’s name. “I’ve been waiting for you. I thought we could discuss the deal we made back at the border. My feelings are hurt, but if you make it better, maybe I’d be willing to finish what we started back in my quarters.” He ran a hand down his chest, fingers toying with the fabric. “Hmm?”

The king just smiled and waved the boys to sit back. "I'm going to make sure he hears of it." He countered Quin's last bit to Cesare and found himself relaxing back into his own chair. "My page is going to deliver the news to every neighboring kingdom of the engagement and your brother and I will discuss a dowry and things of that nature." Cesare tried not to blush at that but still couldn't pull his gaze away from Quin. It was all he could have asked for, the two of them. "You two can decide when but I want everyone to know." He looked warmly at his son and found himself sighing just so softly. "You deserve that. The both of you do." His gaze drifted to Quin and he offered him a small smile.

He gave it all of ten more seconds before he turned to Max and insisted the two of them discuss matters more. He, afterall, was King of their greatest alley. Or would be soon. Cesare peered over at Max and nodded towards the door, his shoulders lifting slightly. And though he looked rather put out, he nodded and gave them the room to leave. His father looked as if he were itching to discuss everything regarding the safety of their countries and now all of them. "I owe you." He spoke softly and then smiled at his father. "You owe me too." He chimed in and shooed the two of them off for the final time.

Cesare wasted no time in whisking Quin out of that room. He needed to just be alone with him. There had been so much to tell him and ask. There had been too much time and too much stuff that had happened. Mostly, Cesare just wanted to make sure that he was okay. As okay as he could be given the circumstances. Gods he hadn't even had a chance to ask him about that. Actually, he probably wouldn't. He was near absolutely positive that he would not tell him what happened. Not everything if anything at all. But he'd have to worry about that on his own. He just really wanted to finally have some time with the man he so desperately clung to at that moment.

They'd only walked just down the hall but already it felt miles off. He sighed and fell into step with Quin then, their hands between the pair of them and Cesare squeezing his hand tightly. "I thought we'd never get out of there." He teased, a little laugh escaping as he said so. But it didn't feel right to be laughing. Given everything he thought it best to not make an ass of himself. "I'm really glad you're safe." He told him in earnest. Because at the end of all of this, that is what had mattered the most. His fingers gave a squeeze and he moved to pull Quin to a stop and wrap his arms around him. Cesare needed to feel the weight of his body against his for just a moment. He knew it was probably pushing it but he just couldn't help himself.

After a moment or two he'd pressed his nose into the other's hair and took a deep inhale. He didn't smell like he normally did but there would be time to right that. His breath was warm on Quin's cheek as he pulled back and looked at him finally. "Are you hungry? Would you like to lie down maybe?" There were a million things to get done for him and to him. Mostly he just wanted to ensure his safety and comfort above all else. "Tell me what to do for you Quintus and it'll be done." He gazed into his eyes, finding it so hard to keep the smile from his face. He was home.

[goldenboywrites]

“What?” Quin whispered at the King’s words. He nearly asked him to repeat himself because he didn’t believe the words he had heard. They were still betrothed. He was surprised with everything that happened the King would allow them to move forward with it. He remember the concern Cesare’s father had before he was kidnapped, how it was Quin’s fault he looked so haunted. How Cesare had set off without a moment’s notice to retrieve Quin from his uncle’s grasp. He knew Cesare loved it, Quin never doubted that, but it was what Cesare would do for him that scared him. Because if it came down to it, Quin wasn’t sure Cesare would put his country before him. And it would only be a matter of time before his uncle figured that out. 

“About time,” Maximus said, shoving at Quin’s shoulder. “I gave Cesare my permission forever ago.” Quin cut his brother a glare but the squeeze of his hand had him drawing his attention back to Cesare as the King continued to talk to Maximus. Quin studied their clasped hands, the words of Cesare’s father going in one ear and out the other. He understood what the man was saying and in a perfect world Maximus would have the time to find his soulmate and marry for love, but that wasn’t their reality and they were running out of time. He knew it wasn’t the time to argue his point, he would wait to get Maximus alone for that. 

And then he heard Cesare’s words and Quintus felt like he was floating. Everything he had longed for, had wanted was right in front of him, and he could take it. Cesare would give his unwavering love for Quin freely and without restraints, but even as Cesare spoke beautiful words to him, Quintus didn’t know if he should. 

Because the truth of the matter was that Cesare didn’t know everything and Quin never wanted him to. The fact of the matter was that Quin, despite Cesare’s best efforts, may not survive seeing his brother to the throne. And if they were to enter into a union, Quin would become a liability to Cesare. One that his uncle would have no issue exploiting. It was dangerous to continue their relationship when everything was on the line. He knew once they married, he would be a member of Adros’ court. If his uncle kidnapped Quintus again or even successfully killed him, there was no other choice but for the countries to go to war. 

“Of course it’s what I want,” He said quietly to Cesare, glancing up to meet his gaze. “It’s what I’ve always wanted since I met you and knew I would do anything for seconds of your attention.” He squeezed Cesare’s hands, rubbing his thumb along his knuckles. “For the longest time I didn’t think love was meant for me, but you came into my life and I knew if I wanted anyone to love me it was you. Loving you is having company during thunderstorms, it’s adventures, and sharing meals. It’s disagreeing but coming together to solve the problem anyways. It’s…” Quin ducked his chin to his chest, avoiding Cesare for the moment as he attempted to control the blush spreading across his face. Fuck, how he hated that Maximus and Cesare’s father was here for this. “It’s having my best friend by my side.” 

“I’m not going to pretend that one didn’t hurt a bit because it did,” Quin heard Max say in the background. 

“If our circumstances were different, I would marry you tonight. I need you to know that. But as it stands, while my uncle is alive and fighting to take over our countries, I can’t put you in a position where I’m a liability to you because if he catches wind of this, he will use us against each other. If that costs you your throne, I would never forgive myself.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head, forcing himself to fight the sting of tears. “I’m in this, Cesare, with you, but only when it’s safe for you and Adros.”

It felt as if he'd slipped in between realities because the conversations happening in front of him truly couldn't be. While Cesare knew this was all apart of their lives but it hurt to hear Max saying that. Still on the mend and out of his own country just added insult to injury and Cesare leaned forward to offer his hand to him, knowing full and well that it wasn't anything but a sign of understanding.

"While both of you are right." The king interjected, sending Cesare to clasp onto Quin's hand instead. He felt the reflex to push him off but he held on tighter. "Quintus and Cesare are already betrothed to one another." His eyes darted between his son and the prince expectantly. "They announced it upon their arrival and unless I'm not privy to some sort of discussion on that being changed. It still stands." Cesare swallowed hard and his fingers flexed around Quin's, the heat between them creating a comfortable feel and he felt himself leaning towards him in turn. "I'll take that as a no. Then we've already a foot in the right direction." He breathed out and looked to Max then. "I know I'm not the right man to be discussing this with you or even have a right to but I knew your father well. He was a dear friend to me as you are to my son."

Cesare felt the room shift just then for him. His father rarely opened up or spoke softly to anyone but his mother and him. It was something he'd admired, how he could always hold his role of King separate when the time was needed for it. "Both of your parents would want the two of you to be happy. And I for one agree with them. I wish the very same for Cesare." He sighed and looked at the three of them. "I'm afraid this world will be extra hard on you but if you are going to marry, all of you then let it be for the right reasons." He paused, smiling softy to himself for a moment. "The selection of a partner is one thing but to marry and have bliss? That will be the true tell of how powerful a ruler you will be. Your parents are great examples of that." He tried his best to not let it show but he felt the tears welling at the sight of their future before him. "So please take your time in choosing. For you choose for a whole country as well. You two will always be welcomed guests in this country and my home." He raised his hand, waiving for his hand to come to him. He'd whispered briefly in the man's ear and sent him on out of the room.

The cool breeze of the door closing again sent a chill down Cesare's spine and he tore his gaze from his father and to Max and then Quin. "I made the right choice." He told him boldly, turning in his chair until their knees met. He wished they hadn't just dragged him out of the bowls of hell and away from that man but he needed Quin to know. "I have loved you for a long time." He could see Max moving in the background but had to block him out because saying this had to be done right then. "I want your home to be here. With me." He felt his lips pulling into a small smile at that. "I can't undo what's been done but I can make sure that the rest of your life is full and you'll never be left wanting for anything." His lips pressed together and he felt the rest of the room looking at them but all he cared about were the two in front of his own. "But only if that's what you want Quintus."

[goldenboywrites]

Business. Dodger almost laughed, but it was a good cover story, especially in this town where all the big developers came to play and usually ended up being chased out, but not before they spent a good chunk of money. It was Darian’s big game plan. Have humans come in and invest, get them right to the point where they couldn’t back out, and then, you know, he dealt with them. You don’t build an empire by sitting back and twiddling your fucking thumbs. 

His breath hitched as Flynn’s body pressed against his, nosing up the back of his neck. The closeness made him shiver. Flynn’s body felt like it was on fire with how it was molded against Dodger’s. Like he was the sun, Dodger was a planet pulled into his gravitational force. Fuck, and he could hear the hum of the man’s blood as it ran through every inch of his body. His heart rate was elevated, beating and beating and beating, pumping his blood faster through his veins. He knew better than to assume it was from the dancing. Sure, that was part of it, but there was more. Their dancing and their closeness said it all. Flynn was turned on. 

Lovers to enemies, it was. 

“I’d say someone has already rolled through to pique my interest,” He replied, his hands falling on Flynn’s. He laced their hands together and then guided the slayer’s hands across his hips and up the length of his chest, catching the fabric of his shirt. He swayed his hips along Flynn’s, pressed back against the man more urgently than before. It wasn't uncommon in a nightclub like this, but Dodger had never taken part in such a dance on the floor before. Something about it felt dangerous under the lights where people could see. “I like small towns, and I was already settled here,” He said, body shivering as he pushed Flynn’s hand to the base of his throat. “Change sucks.” It was better than his actual story, in which he was dragged here and was now stuck in this town doing the bidding of a criminal, vampire mastermind. 

Dodger turned around in Flynn’s arms, loosely hanging his arms over the man’s shoulders. He pulled Flynn to him, their lower halves pressed together, leaving no room for Jesus between them. “And now that you’re passing by, I’d say this town is going to be a lot more fun.”

Oh he was quite sweet. Maybe not in traditional terms but the way this man spoke and moved sang to his very soul. And in turn, it was hard to keep track on the creep that had slipped something in to this man, erm, Jacob's drink. Did he like Jacob or Dodger? Why the hell did it matter? It wasn't as if he'd actually have a chance in hell of seeing him past tonight. There was work to be done but he couldn't deny that light sheen of sweat or maybe it was just how glowy he normally looked, but this man was beautiful in ways Flynn couldn't comprehend.

"I think you're quiet a quick study." He mused playfully, taking another sweep of the room before he'd turned his attention completely to the man at hand. That asshole wouldn't have gone far if that was what he was after. Perhaps he was just looking for another victim. Because if he were so bold as to do that in front of a crowd, there was no telling what he'd do in the dark. Sometimes humans were truly no better. But Flynn's mind ceased all the chatter the moment he was directed to touch this man. And he did so, greedily.

Flynn found his fingers looping onto the beltloops and he pressed his body firmly against the other. It felt nice to just be for the moment. "Business." He said plainly. He was mildly aware of where this could end the pair of them up but he just wanted to enjoy it without getting too into it. "I'm out here surveying some land for an interested developer. Could be lucrative for this town and them if they decide this is where they'd like to lay roots." Flynn's head tucked into the other's neck as the beat thumped in his body and his nose ran the length of his throat, a soft nip of his teeth to the other's skin. "Maybe you'll get a few more people rolling through here to peak your interests." He teased, shifting his weight from side to side in time with the beat.

He truly had missed getting to do things like this. Perhaps that's why he'd picked his line of business though. It'd be easy for Flynn to fuck right off into a oblivion and take this poor soul down with him. "How come you never left?" He asked, his mouth just centimeters away from Dodger's ear. He smelled insanely good and his hands gripped the other tighter in response. The prick be damned for costing him his drink but he thought he much preferred what he was lapping up now. "You'd do more than alright outside this little spot. More people, better scenery." He purred as they pressed into on another with more purpose than he supposed was cordial at this point. "Something tells me a better variety of lovers too." He teased, nipping at him again. "What's so special about here?"

[goldenboywrites]

Everett felt the burning push of Colter entering him, and it was just as good as the first time, if not better because Colter wasn’t being careful this time. He took Everett with such a force, rough hands, and the scratch of his stubble against his skin. Or maybe the fact that anyone in the castle would walk in on them sent such a thrill up his spine. Perhaps it was everything. 

He met Colter’s upward thrusts with downward ones of his own. He rode Colter’s cock with such grace, even with their quickened movements. His thighs straddled the prince’s tightly on the chance that his thrusts throw him off the throne. “Please,” He said, in between pants, “It wouldn’t be half of fun if I gave into you eagerly and willingly.” He cradled Colter’s jaw in the palm of his hand before sliding his grip down to his throat. He squeezed lightly, not enough to cut off his airflow. It was a bluff because he feared he would always indulge Colter. The man was greedy, and he was all too eager to oblige. “You like the game, the chase. You know anything can be yours with a simple command, but you don’t want anything too easy.” August had been too easy and look at where it got him. Everett had learned from their friend’s mistake. 

Everett chased after Colter’s lips, kissing him deeply. He hadn’t been expecting to be lifted off the man’s lap but merely grunted in surprise. He moved his arms to the arms of the throne, holding himself steady as Colter sank back into him. Everett’s back arched off of the throne, meeting the thrust. The prince didn’t take long to settle back into his movements. He barely pulled out of Everett before slamming himself back into the hilt. “It’s as much,” He paused, reaching down between them to where his leaking cock was trapped between their bodies. He took himself in hand, stroking himself in time with Colter’s thrusts. “As I enjoy you, my king,” The man purred, words thick with lust and adoration. “No one can fuck me like you do.” Colter’s hips pressed against Everett’s body, and he squeezed his muscles around the prince’s cock, locking his cock into place for a moment before releasing it. 

He pushed his upper body up, their chests meeting, and he sought out Colter’s mouth, pushing his tongue past his lips. Their kiss was sloppy as they continued to fuck, but Everett loved the messiness of it all. Their bodies were both slick with sweat and precum; their breath mingled together in the form of gasping pants. Fuck, being with Colter like this was a high the man had never experienced before. His cock swelled in his hand, and he could feel his release approaching. It made him want to cry to know that this would be over. But he knew it was far from over for them. You didn’t fuck like the two of them fuck and just stop. He jerked himself off fast, pulling Colter’s body to him, locking the prince in place as he arched off of the throne and exploded between their bodies. His muscles clamped down around Colter’s cock, nestled so deep inside of him that they felt like one fucking being. “Fuck!” He cried out, his fingers turning white as he gripped the armrest in one hand and his cock in the other.

 “So good, my king. So good.” He moaned, body set aflame with tingles and shivers as he rode his orgasm. He pressed kisses and nips along Colter’s jaw, licking the beads of sweat from his skin. “Look at you,” Everett hummed against Colter’s mouth, trailing his hand along Colter’s stomach, smearing cum across his exposed bare skin. “Such a vision.”

A hot flutter of air felt like it pushed itself against the two of them, forcing them closer together. Colter's mind was nothing but a blank slate and lust. All he could have wanted in that moment sat in his lap just so eager to please. He'd not seen a look on the other's face like that ever and it thrilled him in ways he couldn't explain. To be coveted as a king or future one was one thing but to have it in this fashion, building your lust to a ravenous level. Well, Colter was drunk on it and so he let it continue. The smell and feel of Everett becoming seared in his brain as he'd done so.

"You cocky sly thing." He grunted in response to Everett's toying. The prince's hands moving to take hold over both of those luscious cheeks. Nail met flesh and Colter dug his fingers in, leaving half moon creases in the other's skin as he regained his grip and moved to bring Everett down on top of his cock. He leaned forward and found the tip of his tongue tracing over the exposed part of his collar bone. Dragging his teeth and tongue slowly along as the heels of his feet dug into the floor beneath them and he thrust upward into Everett's tight, slick hole. A roar of pleasure shot up Colter's spine and his teeth drug across the other's flesh and he bit hard on the spot where shoulder met neck.

The grip Colter had up Everett tightened as his hips began to find their rhythm and so did the other. "Don't you ever question if I can." He panted after a few more powerful thrusts upward, claiming Everett as his in that throne. One hand climb the length of the man's back, reaching all the way up onto the back of his head and the prince shivered feeling the curls slid between his fingers so effortlessly as he took hold and pulled the other's head back. Colter took pleasure in biting just below his Adam's apple, sucking until there was just a faint pink spot when he pulled away. "I will." He growled and slammed Everett's hips to his own, forcing his full length deep within the other.

The prince turned Everett's face up and brought it close to his own, his tongue flicking out over the other's lower lip with a wicked grin. "I always will." His eyes flickered with a menace that couldn't be explained but before he could let Everett say anything he was quick to switch their places. The other's legs tight around his waist as he settled Everett onto the throne and freed himself from the rest of his trousers. He let out a soft cry as he'd slid himself comfortably back inside of his lover and began to pound into him with little to no regard for anything else but those eyes watching him so intently. "And you will always remember how much your king enjoys you." He smiled down at Everett and took his face in his hand once more, stealing a greedy kiss off of his lips. "So very much."

[goldenboywrites]

Beckett’s hand slid into the man’s with ease. It was quite a relief to share a handshake with someone who didn’t know who he was. He missed the warmth of another’s hand and the firmness of their grip. He was so used to the people moving around him. Of course, he understood that they were being respectful of his title and power, but the lack of human touch sometimes felt devastatingly overwhelming within him. 

“Grady Toft,” He repeated the name, and it sounded sweet, rolling off his tongue. It wasn’t any name he was familiar with, but it also didn’t sound like the name of someone the Gods would trust to lead him back to his throne. If anything, Grady’s name sounded normal, like a regular person. He wasn’t sure what to think at that moment. Grady had items unfamiliar to Beckett and said words he didn’t understand the meaning of, yet he seemed to be a person rather than anything else. It was perplexing, but maybe Elias could connect the dots for him once they returned to his men. 

Beckett released the name’s hand and looked at him with furrowed brows. He didn’t know what Chicago was or what a bachelor had to do with medicine. “My name is Beck,” he replied, unable to find the confusion in his tone as he tried to place all the crazy things the man was saying. It wasn’t a lie, just in case Conrad had sent this man to mislead him, but it wasn’t the entire truth either. Beckett hated lying, but he knew the wrong information could lead him down a path of no return. “I’m just a knight,” He said as if it wasn’t a big deal. He motioned for Grady to follow him and led him through the temple. When he returned to his men, they would play along. Maybe Elias would even be impressed. “Grew up in a small town, not far from the capital. It was a dream of mine as a child to dedicate my life to the crown and have a part in keeping Esterris protected from outside forces. I trained every day for it.” He was sharing Elias’ dream. When he came to the castle and swore allegiance to Beckett, he shared this with him. 

They walked outside of the temple, and Beckett nodded down the road. “My commander and the rest of his men are about a mile down here. We set up camp while we think about our next move.” They walked side by side. “You said you’re from Chicago? I’m unfamiliar with that place; which country is it in?” He couldn’t place it, and Beckett studied every town in every country while growing up as part of his training to take the throne. “In Kelbon, maybe? I’m familiar with Chigleon in Westulan, but Chigleon…we don’t see many people from there. It’s nearly impossible to travel out of and even harder to travel in.” 

Beckett spied on their group of men, and before he made it to them, Elias ran over to check the King first for injuries. He was so invested in his position that he didn’t see the man beside him. When he finally caught a glimpse of him from the corner of sight, he stepped back and drew his sword, the sharp tip pressed to Grady’s throat. “What business do you have with our King?” He asked harshly, ignoring Beckett’s waving hands in the background. “State your business immediately, or I will have your head rolling down the road in seconds.” 

Well…Beckett sighed heavily, moving to stand in between the two of them. So much for playing it coy. 

“Be still, Elias,” Beckett pleaded. “That’s an order.” Elias hesitated but ultimately followed the order. The sword fell away, but the man’s grip did not loosen. “This is Grady.” He introduced himself slowly, moving from standing before Grady to beside him once the tension settled. “He came to me at the temple after I prayed. He’s…” Beckett turned to look at the man, offering him a small smile. “We are going to provide him protection and shelter,” He couldn’t be sure, with all of the strange things Grady said, if he was a gift from the Gods or a spy from Conrad, but he wanted time to find out. “Until I say otherwise.”

It almost left like someone was truly messing with him. Grady was doing his very best to retrace his steps that morning and the only thing he kept circling back to was the watch place was out of his norm. But it was only an old man that fixed watches and pawned items. Surely there was no way his opium in the vents theory had any chance of shaping up into a real thing. He could feel the start of a migraine in the very center of his head and he decided then and there that he was absolutely overreacting to whatever was happening. Drug induced or otherwise. Perhaps this beautiful man was truly what he said and would take him to his ... troop.

Grady tucked the sopping wet bill back into his wallet and then put it away too. Obviously he was not going to get anywhere and maybe if he did play into this, he'd really find someone that could help him. Otherwise he had slipped into a fifth dimension and was experiencing his very own brand of hell. "You know what?" He questioned as he shook out one leg and then the other, the water still rolling off of him in waves. "Maybe you are right." His hands fell to his hips and he dipped his head while closing his eyes. I could just be passed out. Maybe a car jumped the fence and smashed me right into the fountain and this is how I'm choosing to spend my time until I get to that big, bright light that is surely coming for me. "I don't see the harm in going to your .. erm .. commander." He finally spoke after what felt like eons.

Very slowly, Grady extended his hand to the other and took the other's in his own. "I should probably introduce myself." The cool wind was starting to blow through his soaked clothes and he couldn't help but shiver, which caused him to step closer to the other. "S-sorry." He said as the goosebumps rolled over all of his exposed skin and even under. "M-my name's Grady. Grady Toft." He told him, giving their hands a firm shake. "Born and raised in the lower part of Chicago. Went to school for economics and ended with a bachelor's in medicine." He allowed their hands to drop and he tried his best to keep his face as neutral as possible. "And you? Who are you and what do you do? Besides double on the new phase of baywatch?"

[goldenboywrites]

Oliver wasn’t surprised that Cassio didn’t immediately believe him. It was so rare that he knew something about Apollo before Cass, but he knew he was right. He knew Orion wouldn’t lie about this. While he didn’t have the whole story, Oliver had seen the look on his brother’s face as he explained a spell to Apollo. “Don’t be all pouty when you realize I was right,” Oliver mumbled against the side of Cass’ mouth, pecking kisses along any inch of warm skin he could find before the blonde pulled away and left the comfort of his bed—knowing such huge information before Cass was a thrill if he was honest. His friendship with Apollo, while it had never bothered him, had been quite the thing to navigate throughout the start of their relationship. 

After Cassio freshened up and they exited the bedroom, Oliver went about gathering the bags he had brought in from his little shopping spree. According to Orion, Apollo and Isaac’s new son was in the toddler-ish stage, so he got…well, pretty much one of everything. He would be the best uncle ever because Merlin knew when any of his useless brothers would give him a niece or nephew. Cassio went to his phone, unlocking it and frowning at the screen. Oliver knew that look; it meant Apollo hadn’t texted him. “We’ll see them in a couple of minutes,” He said, arms loaded with bags of goodies. “You’ll have to apparate us.” Oliver felt arms wrapped around him, and then they were off. 

They appeared moments later in Apollo and Isaac’s home. 

“She’s just our neighbor,” Theo explained exasperatedly, as if Isaac was silly for not knowing this information already. “When I can’t come here, she watches me for me..” He shrugged and went back to his plate. Apollo studied the boy, noting that he adapted Isaac’s accent for some words, but that could have just been him idolizing the man he thought was a father figure to him. Theo opened his mouth to continue, but Apollo held up a hand after he heard a distant pop of someone’s apparition in the living room. Very few people had access to their home. He knew his twin wouldn’t come without calling first. Given who he had called earlier, Apollo knew who it was. 

He glanced at Isaac, sighed heavily, and resisted the urge to slam his head against the table. A concussion would be preferred over dealing with Oliver right now. However, while he was strongly displeased at Oliver's unannounced arrival at their home, it would help them get more information regarding Theodore. Would he recognize Oliver and Cassio? Would he have fabricated memories of them as well? “Theodore,” Apollo called out before he heard a grating voice call out, ‘Hellooooo.’ The boy looked up at Apollo, waiting for him to speak again. He would take the risk. “I think your uncles are here.” Then he held his breath, waiting. 

The biggest grin broke out on the boy’s face as he pushed his chair back from the table and ran into the living room, screaming at the top of his lungs, “Uncle Ollie!!” Apollo turned to Isaac, his mouth hanging open. “What the fuck,” He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. Theodore’s entire life had been built on false memories that extended to their friends. It was enough of a distraction to make him forget that he was pissed about Orion’s betrayal. “Orion must have told them,” He said to Isaac; for some odd reason, he felt the need to throw out there that he hadn’t called Cassio about this. “I’m going to kill Oliver.”

Apollo stood up from the seat, his meal untouched, and walked into the living room. As he entered, he saw Theodore trying to wrap both arms around Oliver and Cassio in a hug. His gaze met Cassio’s immediately, and Apollo didn’t have the words to explain, not like he could in front of Theodore anyway. “What did you do to Orion?” He asked, turning to look at Oliver, his hands on his hips. “Because I know he wouldn’t give up my information freely.” 

Oliver ruffled Theo’s hair before sheepishly glancing up at Apollo. “First of all, it’s rude that we weren’t the first told..” 

“Told what?” Theodore asked, looking up at Oliver with the biggest smile. 

Oliver continued without answering Theodore. “And second of all, I beat him up, and it was easy because he’s a little bitch.” Theo giggled and tugged on Oliver’s arm, muttering ‘That’s a bad word’ under his breath. “I mean, he’s a little witch.” Theodore giggled again and moved from them, starting to rummage through the bags at Oliver’s feet. “All of these bags are for you.” 

Apollo sighed but didn’t comment on it. It saved him a trip to the store. “Theo, why don’t you look through those while we talk to your uncles in the kitchen.” 

As they moved into the kitchen, Apollo reached for Isaac’s hand, slotting their fingers together and giving him a squeeze of comfort. He turned around when Cassio and Oliver followed them in, stepping back into the vicinity of Isaac’s warmth. “I don’t know where to begin. I got a call to come to Mungos, and he was there waiting for me. Alexandria is his mum, and she’s been AWOL for days. The hospital has it on file that I’m listed as his father and the emergency contact, but I haven’t met that kid before. He knows all of us as if he’s been in our lives forever. I didn’t even know she had a kid. I haven’t seen her since uni. I called Orion to see if there was a way to look at memories and see if there were traces of altering magic in them because it doesn’t make sense how he has memories of being here, playing with Milo, and being with Isaac and me. Now, it’s confirmed he’s also familiar with the two of you. So now that you’re all caught up, are you here to help or just to make it even more of a difficult night?” 

Apollo inhaled sharply and shook his head. He hadn’t meant it like that, but his nerves were fucking fried to shit, and he was so fucking tired. “I didn’t mean…” He started and then stopped, momentarily focusing on breathing until he felt more solid and grounded. “I didn’t mean it to sound the way it sounded.” Apollo couldn’t bring himself to apologize, so that was the closest he could get to it. “I don’t know what the fuck to do with a kid.”

Of everything Oliver had ever done or said in their years together, this was truly one that left him completely speechless. He hadn't the slightest idea what the hell his boyfriend was talking about and all he could do was look at him in wonder. Perhaps that nap had been better than he thought. But he wasn't anywhere else but their bed and so he started to let what he was saying sink in and his brow scrunched in frustration. He thought to reach for his phone but remembered it was out in the living area and instead he thought to give in to this crazy notion. "First," He started, reaching up to kiss Oliver softly for just a moment. It felt nice to have his warmth on him as he was. His muscles felt sore from early practice.

"Second, there is no way in hell that Apollo adopted any sort of child. I'm surprise they've managed to keep Milo alive this long." He sighed, his hands slowly drifting up the other's back and he let a lazy smile drift on his lips. "I think that's more due to Isaac than Apollo in all fairness." His leg slipped up and he hooked it around Oliver's back, moving them on to their sides so he could get a better look and position. Cass slid on to his elbow and looked with a softness only Oliver had been able to pull out of him. "But a child? Absolutely not. Orion had to have heard it wrong. Or maybe it's some kind of work Apollo's doing." There wasn't any thought that he could come up with that would explain away a child. And that worried him.

He looked between the two of them and then the door, deciding that maybe he'd better just check in on this one. "But ..." He trailed off as he stretched out, leaning back and letting a few of his vertebrae crack and he sighed happily at the alleviation. "It has been a while since we've gone to see them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to see what they're all up to." He was itching to get up and go see if Apollo had sent some king of explanation, if there were to be one about this. But the other part enjoyed having Oliver next to him. He sighed and tucked in to kiss him gently. "You owe me some quiet time later." Cass smiled against his lips and slowly pulled back. "Or some not so quiet time. Come on." He untangled himself and slowly got up from their bed. "You can show me this maybe nephew."

__________________________________________

Isaac sat very still for what felt like eons. This whole thing had not been fun. The smile he wore to keep the small human from finding out what Apollo was doing, and what he had allowed. But as he felt the small fingers grazing his skin, all he could think was how terrible all of this had been. Is he sick? His eyes trained on the boys and Isaac breathed out so slowly. He didn't know the implications of what would happen with the potion and his magick or his Theo had even had enough for it to matter but nonetheless, he kept calm.

"I thin' he's jus' worried abou' ya ma." He told him very plainly because it was clear that this boy did not understand what adult motives put him in danger. Isaac smiled warmly and placed his own hand over the boy's, squeezing gently. He thought better than to take the touch away, make him feel unwanted because that was not true. What? "Maybe ya can tell us abou' erm .. wha' was her name? Mrs. W?" He squeezed one more time and let go to give him another pancake from the leftover stack. Another pat of butter on top and he handed the syrup back to Theo with a smile.

Isaac stole a look over at Apollo to reassure him they were okay. "You seem li'e ya see Mrs. W a lo'. Is she one o' ya ma's friends maybe?" He watched as the little boy took another bite and he leaned back into his own chair, sliding his hand into Apollo's and squeezing tightly. If only he knew the strength that Apollo gave him just by being. "I don' thin' tha' we know her a' all. A' leas' I do no' thin' we do." He glanced at over at him and shrugged, drawing up absolutely nothing one a name that could possibly fit.

[goldenboywrites]

Quintus’ eyes did not leave his lap even as Cesare argued a different viewpoint from his father’s. Whatever he felt didn’t matter. It came down to the two Kings to decide what route to take. He knew his brother wasn’t ready to go back to Vivec but that he would if he felt they were no longer welcomed in Adros. He knew Cesare would fight his father tooth and nail to keep both brothers within his grasp, and Quin was just there to exist in the middle. 

Cesare’s idea had merit. Quin was impressed. It was the best of both worlds. The brothers could stay in Vivec and train while sending messages to their council to find out who was on which side. When they were ready, a tour was the best way to go. It would allow the people of Vivec and the individual town council members to meet with Max. It was a way to gather and sway support while also having a fallback, and at the end of it, once they knew they were strong enough, the brothers would storm the castle and reclaim their namesake. 

Maximus did not speak immediately, but Quintus could feel his brother’s gaze, waiting for him to comment. When Quin purposely remained quiet, Max elbowed him in the ribs. “This is Quin’s area of expertise. Before I decide, I wish to hear him speak about it. Quin?” 

And he couldn’t ignore an order even if it was posed as a question, not in front of Cesare’s father. “If we head back to Vivec now, it’ll be suicide,” He said softly, lifting his gaze to the King. “While I know we have supporters back home, we don’t know who. We don’t know who will willingly stand with us to fight for your throne and who won’t. Just because they want Maximus on the throne doesn’t mean they will help us achieve that. A tour will be the easiest way to gather allies, but first, we must train and build our stamina back up. Doing that here will be the best option. If Maximus returns home walking with a cane, the council will view him as weak. However, until we know differently, we must assume that no one is on our side. For all we know, our uncle has been working on turning members of our court since before our parents were murdered.” 

Quin sucked in a deep breath, turning to Maximus. “It would also be best if you returned engaged or even already married; we can announce it during our tour through the country. Uncle isn’t married; he won’t marry, so you’ll make you a more desirable fit for the throne. The security of an heir is something he cannot and won’t compete with. But we will have to scout eligible women from Vivec, maybe bring them here and host them to see who the best option is.” He saw Max’s lips turn down into a frown. “We don’t have the luxury of time, Maximus. If we can make you a better fit for the throne than uncle, we must take it. You and I both know he won’t marry or produce an heir. You will. Take this advantage.” 

“What about you?” Max snapped back, brow raised. He looked pointedly from Quintus to Cesare to the King and then back to Quin. “Don’t tell me a marriage for you wouldn’t add the same benefit for us if you were to marry into another country who will support us that’ll make you look good to the whole of Vivec. Wouldn’t that be another advantage we should take? You know I am not married yet because I want to marry for love and not convenience. Think about what you’re asking me to do. If you won’t do the same, it’s off the table.” 

He tightened his fingers into a fist and shook his head. “I do not bring this up lightly. I know what this will cost you, and I am sorry it does not fit into your perfect plan, but you and I are not the same, and it does not serve you well to consider us on the same level. Yes, if I were to enter into a marriage with an allied country behind me, that would work in our favor, but it does not give us as much favor as your marriage would. You will sit on the throne, not me.” He looked to the others around the room, his brow raised. “Please speak on this if you feel I’m wrong.” He wasn’t. The looks on all of their faces said enough. Then Quintus turned back to his brother. “Order me to do it as well if you must, but make sure that is an order you can live with.” 

The brothers stared at each other for what felt like forever. For a moment, Quintus feared that his brother would enforce the order out of spite. But then Maximus blew out a puff of air and crossed his arms over his chest, sinking against the back of his chair in defeat. “No,” He said softly, squeezing Quin’s arm. “I’m sorry, Q. I understand I am held to different standards than you are. I will not ask you to do that for me. I promised to protect you from that, and I will stand by that promise.” Then he turned to the King, offering the man a small smile. “We would be grateful if you would house us for a little longer. I swear to replace the resources you expend on us tenfold when I reclaim Vivec.” Then he turned to Quin, “I hear your words, brother. I will put serious effort into finding a suitable wife for myself.”

Cesare could feel the panic starting to saturate the room at the velocity of how quickly his father wanted to move things. He thought it odd but didn’t in the same stroke. Showing a united front to the people of Vivec was always top priority but could they do it just then? He looked at his best friend, still on the mend. And then there was Quintus. Completely lethargic and beaten, dark circles under his eyes and gloom that the prince couldn’t quite place as of that moment. Cesare bit his lip and tore his gaze from the pair of them and to his father. He was certain he didn’t mean it so abruptly but then again, his father had always been quick to decide and quick to move things along. It was how Adros had become what it had under him. But maybe that wasn’t the only answer. 

“Father, I don’t think that’s right call to make just as we’ve escaped. All of us.” He felt the eyes on him and the air dissipated from his lungs entirely. The only small bit of grace he could see was the quirk of his brow. It meant he was inclined to listen so long as it didn’t waste his time. “I don’t think their uncle has as much support as he thinks he does.” He started, seeing the nod of go ahead and so he did. “Max and Quin have both been through so much in such a short amount of time that you can’t possibly think their people are going to be served by them without their full wits about them.” He saw his father raise his hand and he felt his stomach sink. “While that is true and I sympathize with both.” He turned his gaze from Max to Quin and back to Cesare. “Both you and Max will have times when it does not matter what you’ve personally got going on. Your countries need you.” The emphasis made him want to turn in on himself and so he sat, hands clasped together with his head bowed for the moment. 

And a few more passed before he could look at his father again. “I don’t disagree that that’s a reality we will both face but I think there’s a better way of going about it. Adros has always had a great relationship with Vivec and its people. Perhaps…” He trailed off feeling his mouth go dry at the thought of challenging his father, his King. “Perhaps we allow them time to regroup here, they send word by royal decree of their intentions before anyone from that man’s party returns that they’re making a tour of Vivec.” So far as he had heard, Max was still to have a coronation. Perhaps with both him and Quin together, the rumors of what happened that day could finally be cleared up by themselves. What better way for people to make their own decisions? “They can see Max in all his glory.” He winked at the other briefly and then took in Quin. He looked beside himself and more pale than he’d ever remembered. “And people can see how much Quin adores and helps him. That they can see they are united. Just in a different manner than everyone is used to.” He sighed, watching his father’s face carefully. “Not every action requires a show of force and brute strength.”

The room was quiet again as he sat back, his eyes still trained on his father. He didn’t dare look away, not even to Quin to whom he wished to know his every thought. His father set his elbows upon the table and leaned his chin onto the conjoined hands  atop. Cesare had rarely seen his father quiet when challenged and he thought it to spare his feelings in front of not only his best friend but his, he hoped still, betrothed. “What do you say to this, Max?” Was the only words spoken. The pair, father and son, still looked with the deepest of intent. Cesare wished so badly to feel Quin in that moment. To feel anchored to something more solid than the timber holding him up at that moment. “And be honest, this is after all, your call.”

[goldenboywrites]

Quintus wanted to scream. 

Sitting there silent as Cesare’s father talked to Maximus was infuriating. Of course, their people believed their uncle. To assume they had any control over their court was laughable because, for years now, his uncle had manipulated chessboard pieces behind their backs to make Quin look power-hungry and Maximus weak. If they returned now, they wouldn’t know which council members to trust, who was on their side, or who to believe. Returning to Vivec right now meant walking into a trap. It meant walking to their deaths. 

We need to get them home. 

Home. Them, plural. Quin took it for the dismissal it was. He lifted his hand off Cesare’s thigh and laced his fingers in his lap. He couldn’t look at the prince after his father spoke those words. The subtle reminder that Adros wasn’t or would ever be Quintus’ home was hidden in plain sight. He would return to Vivec with Maximus for the rest of his life and, if they survived, be married off to another prince. Quintus was used to disappointment. He had dealt with it his entire life, but this raw, empty pit in his stomach gnawed at him in a way he had never experienced before. Because for a fleeting moment, he had genuinely believed that he and Cesare would be together, that they would rule Adros together, and now it was gone, like dust in the wind. 

He turned to look at his brother and found Max already looking at him, so he caught on to the King’s words aswell. The brothers stared at each other, a silent conversation between them. The silence in the room lingered on and on. They weren’t ready to move in two days. Quin’s body wasn’t prepared for another journey, and who knows what the physician had cleared Maximus for. He was still walking with a cane, after all. But if they had overstayed their welcome in Adros, what choice did they have? 

Maximus broke their gaze, but Quintus’s eyes remained on him. Max looked straight ahead at the King of Adros. “You and Adros have done so much for us already. Quintus, myself, and our men here will return to Vivec in two days. Now that we’ve been reunited, we can take it from here without involving your men or your country in our civil war.” 

Quin bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

Everything happened very quickly once they approached the castle. 

Swarms of guards opened the gates, parting like the sea to reveal Maximus in the center of them. Quin had already been looking out the carriage window, his limbs restless from not only the hours upon hours of travel time but also from the drugs leaving his system. Returning to Adros and being in control of his mind and body was a relief. But nothing compared to seeing his older brother standing there, waiting for them. It was like breathing fresh air for the first time. He couldn’t help himself; before the carriage stopped, Quintus was opening the door and jumping to the ground.  He ran towards Max, who braced himself to embrace Quin, and then the brothers were hugging. 

Quin thought he’d never get to hug Maximus again. 

“Q,” Max said, squeezing him tightly against his body. Usually, Quin would protest this. Mumble something about Max messing up his hair or clothes, but he leaned into the hug this time. He didn’t let go. “I knew he would bring you back in one piece,” He whispered into Quin’s hair, and then the brothers finally did pull back, gazes meeting, but Max’s flickered over Quin’s head, and his brows furrowed. “Or…two?”

Quin turned around, rolling his eyes as Beau dramatically exited the carriage. He hated the way the boy clung to Cesare’s side like he was fucking helpless, but that was a problem Quin would have to solve later. “It’s a long story.” 

He knew there would be a lot of explaining to everyone, but he knew Cesare was antsy in informing his father of everything that had happened. “I only have enough energy to tell it once, so you’ll have to wait until we meet with the King.” Max slung his arm around Quin’s shoulder just as Cesare and Beau approached them. “Do you know where the King is, brother?” 

“When the scouts saw your carriage approaching, he instructed me to meet you all at the gates. He will be waiting for the three of us in his private quarters.” 

Quin nodded his understanding and then turned towards Xander. “Beau will be staying in the connecting quarters to mine. Please escort him there and help him get settled. Do not leave him until I’ve returned.” 

“Um,” Beau’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his hip out. “This is my story to tell, too. I should be there with the King.”

Quin shook Max’s arm off his shoulders and stepped towards Beau, who stumbled back into Xander. Xander reached out to hold him steady, a hand on his shoulder. “You will go where I tell you to go to your room. No arguments. I will call for you when I have time for you.” 

Maximus shuffled closer to Cesare, the shock written all over his face. “This is my worst nightmare,” He whispered, nudging his best friend. 

__________________________

When they approached his quarters, the king prepared food and tea for them. Quin barely had more than five minutes to wash himself and be helped into clean clothes. He sat in the middle of Maximus and Cesare, feeling the king's heavy, exhausted stare on him. 

He hadn’t done his best to win his maybe future in-laws over. 

“Welcome back, Quintus,” The King spoke, eyes flickering between Quintus and Cesare. 

Maximus busied himself, loading food on a plate for Quin and himself. Quin didn’t touch it, his stomach uneasy and protesting. “Thank you, Your Majesty. If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have left Adros. Regrettably, a foe captured me in a weak moment and forced the decision on me. I was dragged back to Vivec, where I was kept prisoner. When I attempted to escape, I managed to free Cesare’s men but could not journey back myself.” He touched the healing wound on his chest, flashes of that night replaying in his memory. 

“I want to thank you for promptly securing my return to Adros. I know the risk involved in sending Cesare to retrieve me. I would not have made it out if it wasn’t for him.” Quin dropped his hand into Cesare’s lap, squeezing his thigh affectionately. “It is a debt I cannot repay but one I am incredibly grateful for.” He turned to Cesare, shooting him a small, shy smile. “But I fear the retaliation from this will be drastic. Most details are hazy, but I can tell you there was an altercation with my uncle. I managed to find the dagger Cesare had gifted me, which my uncle had taken from me previously, and I subdued him. Unfortunately, I had to leave the dagger behind as I could barely get myself out of there in time. I fear he will use that against us.”

Quintus looked down at his hands in his lap, looking naive and innocent and playing to the King’s softer side. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I…he...-since I was returned to him, he’d been drugging me to keep me contained. I wasn’t in my right mind most of the time. All I could think about was getting away from him, trying to survive. Every physical blow between him and me was done by me and me alone. No one else was in the room. Xander and Cesare will vouch for that. If I have to pay the consequences, I will, but no one else should have to except for me."

[goldenboywrites]

Scorpius turned around to marvel at the work he had done. The walls were painted a soft blue-grey that reminded him of home. He was proud of himself for doing it by hand instead of magic. Something he had been working on was enjoying taking the time to do things by hand. Growing up as he did, it was easy to fall into the lure of magic especially with his mother whispering in his ear about purebloods and his father lecturing him on how there was more to life than magic. 

Looking at the walls, feeling the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, the ache in his muscles, Scorpius understood his father in that moment. His hands had created this. It was beautiful. 

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead in sheer exhaustion. All he wanted to do was return to Teddy’s and take a shower. Scorpius was covered in paint splatter. His face, his arms, even in his hair. But he was eager to get the store up and running as soon as possible. So he dragged his aching body over to the shelves and started mounting them. 

“That you, Lils?” He called out as he heard the door open behind him. He finished the row he was currently working on, tugging on it to make sure it was steady. Scorpius walked to the door, opening it, “I thought you sai-” His mouth snapped shut as he came face to face with Albus. “Hi,” Scorpius said softly, unable to fight the sudden shyness creeping in his bones. Albus looked…really good. Breathtakingly good. Of course Scorpius wasn’t shocked by that. It was hard to avoid any news of the Quidditch star. He didn’t have the ability to slip out of the view of journalists the way Scorpius had. 

His gaze lingered on Al’s face and then down to his hands, spying the bottle of wine and treat from the bakery. “Is that a welcome gift?” Scorpius opened the door wider, beckoning the other inside. “Come in and we can split it.” 

Scorpius moved into the shop, pulling out his wand. He flicked it and pulled two chairs and a small table into the center of the room. He couldn’t read Albus’ expression anymore, which stung because there was a time when Scorpius swore he knew what Albus was feeling without even looking at him. Now he looked at him, and he couldn’t decipher anything. Was he angry? Probably. Happy to see him? Maybe with time. Maybe after some answers. “I got back today,” He said as he sat down. As if he had just gone on holiday for a week instead of years. “Felt like the right time to set down roots. Let me be the first to welcome you to Fresh Brews, my potions shop.”

On the whole, the Potter-Weasley family could have been a hell of a lot worse. There was never a shortage of people to turn to but in that respect, there were also always so many hands in everything. Al had been reluctant to come back after this last week's game and how awful they'd been but he truly just needed time away from everyone and everything that wasn't Rose and or his own apartment. Mum and Dad had always wanted him to live closer to home like James and Lily but Al just couldn't bring himself to do it. There had just always been something about him that made it easier to separate unlike the others. At least that's what he'd deluded himself into believing all those years ago. The amount of therapy needed to undo that was astronomical and therefore, completely out of the question.

Albus apparated into the living area of said apartment and felt the weight lift of him. Though that could have been his bags dropping from his arms the instant his feet touched the wood floor. A deep inhale and he knew it was home. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he made his way to start to put his things away. Well, at least get them out of eye sight for a day or two until he was truly ready to deal with them. He was grateful for the little break in the season. A good two weeks away was exactly what he needed. Some time to see Rose and maybe even James if he wasn't at Mum and Dad's when Al stopped once or twice before going back. Everything felt ... good.

It was a few hours into him being home that he'd realized the floor boards felt warmer than normal. He'd checked his heaters but found them only on enough to stay the chill off the apartment. "She rented it." He said under his breath and sighed to himself. It was never really an issue when the business below was occupied but Al always found it annoying to have to put up charms between the two as to not disturb either of their spaces. Why didn't she say anything? The thought was there and gone. Most likely, it wasn't his business. Which it wasn't and she very often delighted in telling him so at every opportunity she could. What's it going to be? Something good. And the sound of someone scuffling around could be heard and he'd decided then and there he'd at least make himself known and meet the person that would probably be getting an alarming amount of mail mistakenly put into their postbox too.

He was grateful it hadn't been too late when he'd come across his new soon to be, hopefully, friend that the shops were still open. Armed with a sweet peach tart from the little shop just across the way and a rather dusty bottle of wine from his own collection, Albus found himself standing just on the other side of the business' door. A few soft raps against the frame and he stepped back, making sure he hadn't looked too unkempt. He hadn't showered nor brushed his hair but it was a bit late to be worrying about that now. His eyes skewed as he saw the figure approach. There was no way to get a good look at whomever that was before that door came open at a rate that he thought inhumanly possible. And it should have been for who was staring at him face to face the moment it happened.

"Scorpius?"