#{ honestly. logan is a problem child im sorry for her.

[theinkyisles]

haunting figures

this is for my @ts-storytime​ ‘s submission! my artist is @ravenclawicecream and it was awesome working together for this piece. word count: 15001 tags: discussion of war, slight internalized ableism, arranged marriages, familial death, awful parents, open/ambiguous ending author’s notes: im never writing anything like this again.  it was an experience im glad for !! but i never wanna do this again salkjfdal

The meeting had lasted centuries, it seemed.

In all reality, it had only been a few hours, but he felt like he could see the hairs at his temple graying.  The aching joints had been a painful companion all his life, so it seemed that being an old man at age thirty-one was simply his life now.  The books surrounding him and the crutches leaning on the side of the desk agreed.

Logan sighed and let his head drop onto the stack of his papers.  His eyes threatened to shut but it was only three o’clock in the afternoon and the number of advisors clamoring for his attention was unbelievable.  He was only the king, not God Herself.  Honestly, if he was a power-hungry noble wishing to be in the king’s good graces, he wouldn’t try and get an appointment with him.  Appointments never solved anything; any good court member knew that. 

There weren’t many good court members, as you could tell.

Lifting his head from the inked parchments, he rubbed his brow with the palm of his hand.  The court member problem was an on-going one, left over from his mother’s reign.  Her partner’s death shocked everyone and the queen scrambled to recover the pieces of what she discovered to be a shattered kingdom.  She couldn’t fix everything, and so that’s what Logan grew up learning how to do.

The king pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair.  “Fix everything” he murmured to himself. “What a useless task.”

A knock came at the door and Logan called for whoever was at the door to come in.  “Hello, your majesty,” his steward bowed. “I was told to fetch you.” Logan lifted his eyes to peer over the top of his glasses.

“Am I not the one who is supposed to request others to be fetched?” he asked. The steward’s eyes glittered with amusement as he straightened.

“We both know that that’s no fun,” Emile said, placing his arms behind his back. “Besides you’re going to like who’s come to visit.” Logan exhaled deeply.

“Well, if you are here to fetch me, let me be fetched.” Logan pressed both his hands to the desk and slowly raised.  His knees creaked in protest, but he kept going until he was upright.  Grabbing the crutches, he swiftly made his way to his steward.  Together, they walked the ornate halls until they reached the throne room, where the courtier opened the door and Logan marched inside.

“Your majesty!” a voice boomed.  A man clad in black and green stood in the middle of the room, his hand resting on his decorative scabbard. “How is that every time I visit, you seem to become more and more the old man you are inside?”  The servants around the room tensed, but Logan just grinned.

“Remus, how is it every time you visit, you can never find a better joke to greet me with?” Logan countered.  Remus threw his head back, a loud laugh filling the room.  Servants around the room winced at the loud display, but Logan merely smiled.

“Never change, my friend.” Remus smiled, his eyes crinkling.  Logan’s heart grew fond at the sight. 

“Well, let me sit, and then we may discuss why you are here.”

“What, a prince can’t come to visit his old friend?” Logan scoffed as he sat down in the throne, removing the crutches from his arms.

“Not when said prince has been shifting his weight from foot to foot like a nervous wreck since I stepped foot into here.” The anxious look in his eyes grew more apparent, but Remus’ smile never dropped.  His hand began shaking back and forth at his side.

“I wanted to wait for a bit longer before bringing it up.”

“Nonsense.  This is the world we live in, your highness. We’d be fools to forget our responsibilities for a moment.” Remus nodded.

“There has been…a complication in the plan we drafted last summer.” Logan straightened in his seat.

“The one for the fields of the volcanoes in your kingdom?”

“Exactly, my dear friend.”

“What complication could come from that? It was a routine signing, everyone agreed to it and- “

 “-and there shouldn’t be another meeting for several more years?” Remus finished. “Yes, but the kingdom of Xious has found that the terms of the contract that has been in place for a millennia before the current monarch is not suitable and wishes to make some changes.”

“What changes could they possibly want? They get forty percent of the crops and pay an incredibly low rent, even after adjusting for inflation!”

“Your anger matches that of my own,” Remus agrees and steps closer, “but they are willing to go to war over it, and, as interesting as I find that, it turns out that death and destruction is not good for kingdoms, so we need to find a solution.”

“War?” Logan exclaimed uncharacteristically. “Over a treaty about wheat?”

“It would definitely be quite the bloodbath.  Your army is no match for Xious’.”

“War is quite a rash move, especially if his country is suffering famine.” Remus shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t pretend to know what goes through the child’s mind.  My brother believes he’s scared and he sees that war is the only way to protect his country’s dignity. I say that he has been pushing off help from his advisors in some vain attempt to prove himself.”

“Have you done due diligence? There is no reason for the Xiousians to be acting in this manner.” Logan said, leaning his chin into his hand. Roman scoffed, crossing his arms.

“My father would not approve that, not with how the king is acting.”

“Remus, please, your father has little influence in the court anymore, especially in his old age.” Roman gave the Cygnan king a look.

“Please, Logan, you’ve met my father.” Logan rolled his eyes. “You act as if you didn’t know that.”

“Forgive me for still finding it ridiculous.”

“You are forgiven,” Remus jested.  Logan huffed a laugh and let his head drop into his hands.

Without saying anything, Logan picked up his crutches, slipping his arms in. He stood up and Remus straightened on instinct.  Logan made his way down the steps and walked over to the doors leading out of the throne room.  He looked behind him to where Remus was staring at him quizzically in the middle of the room.

“Well, what on Earth are you waiting for?” Logan laughed and kept moving towards the doors.  Remus chuckled and hurried after his friends.  The guards at the doors moved to follow them, but Logan shook his head. “Leave me with my friend.  I certainly won’t die between here and my chambers.”

“But sire-”one of the guards started.

“I am well aware of the protocol, my parent was the one who wrote it,” Logan snapped back. “I will be fine.”  Logan saw the guard hesitate for a moment and took his change to keep walking down the hallways.

“You are so rude to them,” Remus mused.

“I’m the king and I can take care of myself.  They know to respect me at this point, I’ve more than proven myself.”

“I wonder how many times you could be assassinated between now and then,” Remus thought out loud after a moment.  The same guard stiffened and Remus smiled widely in his direction. Logan barely withheld a snort and Remus turned the smile onto the king.

“Are you going to try and find out?” Logan asked rhetorically, beginning to make his way down the hall.

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t taken every chance to find out the exact about of time it would take for any number of assassinations to take place in this exact hallway? That’s so very unlike you,” Remus laughed as Logan smacked his shin with the crutch. “Watch it, Logey, lest I report back to my father that I was assaulted by the king of Cygnas.”

“Oh, shut it,” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Hm,” Remus preened, “I don’t think I will.”

“You and your brother will be the death of me, I swear,” Logan muttered.

“Speaking of my brother…” Remus trailed off.  Logan wrinkled his nose at the sound of the prince Roman. “He wasn’t able to accompany me, but we might be returning in a few weeks’ time in case of war, especially since he is the new crown prince.” Logan’s embarrassment shifted into shock.

“What? I thought that-“

“Father has also decided which son will take the throne.”  Remus stopped in the middle of the hallway.  Logan followed suit.

“Why I haven’t I heard about this sooner? Has he declared this officially?” Logan asked incredulously.  Remus shook his head.

“The position is brand new.  I heard about it myself while in transit coming here.  We both knew that this was coming, Logan.”  Remus gave the other king a look and Logan turned away to stare at the ground.

“Yes, but-” Logan cut himself off, frustrated.  He turned back to Remus. “Send my congratulations to your brother.  He will be a fine king.

“I hope you know that resenting me is an acceptable course of action.” Remus said knowingly.

“I just-”

“You wanted me to be king.  I know.”  Remus stepped closer to Logan, resting a hand against Logan’s cheek. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“What kind of talk is that?”  Roman looked away, allowing himself to shove his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Remus.”

“Logan,” Remus mocked slightly. “Just yell at me already, won’t you?”

Logan scowled. “Have you no faith in me? Good heavens.” Logan slipped his arms out of his crutches and leaned them against the wall.  He pressed up close to Remus and hugged him, making his two inches over Remus known.  He cupped the back of his friend’s head, pressing it against his shoulder.  Remus slumped forward. “You will be a fine king.  Do I wish your father had given Remus more of a chance? Yes, but that does not mean you are anywhere near unqualified for the position.”

“You’re just saying that.” Logan pulled back to look Remus in the eyes.

“Have I ever lied to you?” They stared at each other a moment.  Remus searched for something in Logan’s face, but whatever dishonesty he was looking for, he couldn’t find.  The air was thick with hidden messages passed between the two members of royalty.  Finally, Remus let his head fall against his friend’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around Logan’s torso.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of Logan’s jacket.

“You know it’s serious when you start thanking me for things.” Remus snorted.

They stood there for a few more minutes before pulling away.  Logan pressed a kiss to his lover’s forehead and Remus leaned into it.

“You know me too well, fiend.” Logan smiled softly as he picked his crutches back up from against the wall.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

    -

  Weeks had passed since Remus left Cygnas to return to his own kingdom.  Despite promises from both twins and the king of Ticevas, the pair of princes were still in transit.  Logan was antsy and worried.  The threat of war from the Xious kingdom was getting more and more real, with reports of soldiers being seen at the border, and if Remus had to set off to take care of the admittedly powerful army, Logan wouldn’t see him for several months, if not years.  He needed to sort this out between Xious and Ticevas, even if it was for purely selfish reasons.

Selfish can be described as practical.  That was his story and he was sticking to it.

In their own private letters, passed through business letters addressed to Roman who handed them to his twin, Remus reassured his lover that his brother would be there soon. Yet, Logan’s anxieties still were not soothed.

My bleeding heart,

What do you think of the new introduction? Roman keeps suggesting these ridiculously sappy names for me to call you, but this was the only one I liked, even if I had to modify it a bit. Tell me if you enjoy it.

The Xiousian king visited this past week to try and negotiate with Roman about the contract.  They didn’t really get anywhere, which normally wouldn’t bother my brother, but I had to try even less to piss him off at dinner.  He stormed out and everything.  Quite the dramatic one he is, I have no idea what you see in him.

Speaking of seeing, he plams to be in Cygnas within the next fortnight.  I know you’ve been worried about the war with Xious, but Father is slowly becoming more lenient in his old age.  With our treaty with you and Limora, I think he’s seeing that handing over the food and money this once won’t be an issue (which is what I’ve been telling him from the beginning, but of course, he only listens when Roman says something).

Enough of business.  I miss you, quill.  Kill a flower for me and stare out the window like I’m your husband gone to war.

Yours,

Remus

Logan smiled as he thumbed over the indents in the paper, the spritz of the cologne Remus wore wafting up from the page.  It was a shorter letter than usual, much shorter, but any word was better than none at all, in Logan’s opinion.

It was barely dawn when the letter had been given to him, the poor messenger looking dead on his feet.  It had been difficult to conceal his excitement and relief, but he knew that getting a letter from what everyone thought to be Roman was no cause to be filled with such joy.  Only Roman and the two of them knew of Logan and Remus’ relationship, though he had no doubt that their father knew as well, and turned a blind eye.  As the general of the army and now officially second-in-command to Crown Prince Roman, any upstanding royal or noble family knew how valuable having that connection would be.

Unfortunately, it meant Logan and Remus would never marry.  With the current treaty in place, there was no need to strengthen it with a marriage and Remus’ father, and Roman, after the king died, would need Remus elsewhere for political maneuvers.    

Back in his early days as crown prince, Logan had foolishly hoped that marrying Remus would be an option. Roman was an obvious shoe-in to be announced king even then, (no matter if Logan secretly hoped that his lover would be awarded the honor) and Logan continuously badgered his mother about the potential ways they could fortify the alliance with Ticevas.  The king was sure that his mother knew of his relationship with the prince and both resented her and was grateful for her saying nothing of the matter.  They might have secured a betrothal while Remus’ father was younger and more easily persuaded, but Logan was unsure of his and Remus’ ability to maintain both a burgeoning personal relationship and permanent political relationship in their youth.

 And yet, there was almost nothing Logan wanted more than to fall asleep each night with Remus in his arms.

Logan exhaled and carefully folded the letter back up.  He slid it under the false bottom in one of his desk drawers, relishing in the smell of Remus’ cologne that rose from the letters before shutting it firmly.  Today was too busy for him to be distracted, even if Remus was a wonderful distraction indeed.

He shifted his attention to the documents in front of him and wrinkled his nose.  Taxes were important to his kingdom’s economy, but even he found them dreadfully boring.  The advisors always insisted that they needed to raise taxes on the lower class almost exponentially in order to pay for better cities, but Logan kept them on a tight leash.  The last thing he wanted to do was rob the majority of his kingdom blind.  Not to mention the fact that the taxes were still outrageously high and no one deigned to put the money to good use.  He found it absolutely disgusting how all the nobles in his court refused to pay their own taxes, yet insisted that those who were living paycheck to paycheck deserved to be burgled by their own government.

He had opinions on the matter, not that he was ever that passionate in court.  That would lead to a scandal that he did not want nor need to deal with.  He was fixing things slowly but surely. 

A knock came at the door and Logan called out to permit them entry.  He straightened his posture as his personal steward stepped into the room.  Emile bowed and Logan nodded his head in return, remaining sitting at his desk.

“Good morning, Emile.  I trust you have a reason to be interrupting me at five o’clock in the morning?” Emile smiled at his boss, not put off by the seemingly dismissive greeting.

“Do you how do, Your Majesty?” Emile said instead of answering, a cheeky grin on his face.  Logan’s face dropped into a confused scowl.

“Emile, that phrase is utterly nonsensical, I have no idea why you use it so often,” the king said, looking back down at his papers. Emile laughed.

“It’s simply a fun turn of phrase, Your Majesty, nothing nonsensical about it.” Logan opened his mouth to retort but Emile kept going. “Besides, I have some important information for you.”

“Really? Do share, Emile.” Logan motioned for the steward to continue, still not looking up from his papers.  He heard Emile shift nervously.

“The Xiousian king is here and has requested an audience.” Logan’s head shot up, the quill dropping with a clatter to the desk. 

“The Xiousian king? When did he arrive?” Logan demanded, pressing his weight to the desk and rising from his seat.  Emile grabbed the crutches by the door and swiftly walked over, setting them against the desk for Logan to use if he so wished.

“He arrived mere moments ago, it appears that they rode through the night to get here.”

“Good heavens,” Logan muttered, paling considerably.  It was a quiet for a moment as Logan stared down at the ground, trying to decide what to do. “Alright, you go speak with the king while I ready myself.  Tell him I will be there shortly.” Emile stared at Logan for a few moments, not moving to comply to Logan’s orders.

“Logan,” Emile started, his voice soft, “you don’t have to go and greet him.  I can do so myself and you can take your time.” Logan kept his head down, avoiding making contact with the steward.  “Valerie wouldn’t want you to force yourself to-”

“Don’t speak her name,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm.  “As far as I am aware, I do not know Virgil and Virgil does not know me.  There is no reason for me to hide from him.” Emile opened his mouth to speak, but Logan shook his head. “I’m not having this argument today.”  Emile hesitated before nodding and moving to leave the room.

“I’ll inform His Majesty that you will be arriving shortly,” Emile said softly, before shutting the door behind him.  Logan sighed as the final click was heard, raising one hand to massage at his constricting chest. 

To the world, he was Logan, King of Cygnas, the only child of Monarch Ranal and Queen Leona. 

Valerie couldn’t be a factor in his decisions anymore.

-

Logan threw the doors of the throne room open as he strode in, his ornamental cloak fluttering behind him.  He took advantage of the low pain that day to try and be as dramatic as possible (Roman’s points about theatrics and intimidation had some merit), but he saw Emile standing by the throne, crutches in hand.  Something in him shriveled at the idea that not even his steward thought he could make it through this meeting without buckling beneath the pressure and aching, but he cast it aside.  This was not the time for pride.

He regretted the powerful move when he saw the tiny boy in the middle of the room.  He knew that the Xiousian king was young, having kept track of any news coming from the Xiousian front, but the boy looked so small.  Logan took one look at the kid’s trembling shoulders and stopped in his tracks. No sudden movements, he decided.

“King Virgil,” Logan greeted. “Your presence in my court is highly unexpected, especially at this hour in the morning.”  The boy attempted to straighten up, but the crown on his head tilted to the side. It was almost comical.

“King Logan,” the other king bowed his head. “I have travelled a long time to be here.”      

“And yet that does not answer the real question,” Logan threw back.  He started walking towards the boy, taking note of how the other king winced as Logan drew nearer.  The older king passed by the boy, noting how he didn’t relax until he reached the throne. Logan tucked his cloak beneath him as he sat down. “Why are you here?”

“Well, you must know about how your ally Ticevas and how they have been refusing aide to my hungry people.” Virgil took a few short, yet decisive steps closer to the throne.  Logan had to give it to him; he might be scared, but he was handling it well. Logan cocked his head to the side.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but that is not the information I was given by the Crown Prince of Ticevas.” The boy glowered and he furrowed his brow.

“I do not know what information the Crown Prince has given you, but I can assure you that if it is anything close to what I believe Prince-General Remus has said to his superiors, it is unequivocally false.”  Logan quirked an eyebrow, but the rest of his facial expression remained peacefully blank.

“You cannot blame me for trusting what has been told to me by the Crown Prince and Prince-General of Ticevas themselves,” Logan lifted his hands from the arms of his throne, folding them into his lap. “I do not intend on changing my opinion on what is true and what is false on unsupported hearsay and beliefs.” Virgil scoffed and he crossed his arms, the movement made slightly difficult by the heavy furs he had draped around his shoulders.

“Do you believe everything the Ticevans tell you?” the boy asked, no hesitance in his voice. “They are known for their dramatics and story-telling, Your Majesty, not every word that comes from their mouths is sure to be true.”  Logan blinked in shock a few times, caught slightly off-guard.  No one had dared question his trust in the Ticevan twins before.

He’d have to do better.

“I’m not sure the Ticevan royal family would entirely appreciate you implying that they are liars, Your Majesty,” Logan said as-matter-of-factly. Virgil scowled, taking impulsive steps towards the throne.  The soldiers flanking the throne dropped into a defensive stance, holding out their spears.  The young king froze and the guards that were with him when Logan entered pulled their swords from their scabbards. “Remigius,” Logan scolded, turning towards his head guard at his right. “Please, show some decorum.” He turned back to Virgil. “My apologies, my liege, as king I am sure you aware of the heightened security.” 

The silver-haired captain-of-the-guard let out a soft scoff as he resumed his stationary position.  Logan shot the man a stern glance but Remy refused to turn towards him.  “Yes, I am aware,” Virgil said warily, and Logan saw him make a soft hand motion out of the corner of his eye.  The guards stood down, their swords back in their scabbard.  One guard, his braids pulled back into a tight bun, left his hand on the hilt. “If I have to ask,” Virgil said snidely, “may I approach, Your Majesty?” Logan gave him a deadpan look but the thirteen-year-old held his ground.

Logan broke first, surprisingly, sighing and waving his hand in a motion for Virgil to step forward. “You may approach, King Virgil.” Virgil didn’t move, instead resting his weight on his heels, a smug smirk on his face.   A ‘well, now that I have permission, I don’t want to do it’ move.  Incredibly immature, Logan noted, but then again, no matter what status Virgil might have, a teenager is still a teenager. “Very funny,” Logan said wryly. 

“Why, King Logan, I have no idea what you mean!” Virgil said in a high-pitched innocent voice.  Logan held in a chuckle.  A few beats passed as Logan stared down at the young boy.

“Why are you here, King Virgil?” Logan said, slightly bored. “You come in with bravado and accusations and you still have not answered my very first question.”  Virgil stuck his nose up.

“We are here to offer a chance of your kingdom surviving the crossfire.” Logan furrowed his brow and sat up slightly in his throne.

“What crossfire.”

“Ticevas has disrespected our sovereignty and threatened us tenfold over.  Xious will not stand for it.”

“And your solution is to kill everything on sight?” Virgil scoffed.

“You have no tact, Your Majesty.” Logan raised an eyebrow and Virgil turned red. “Apologies, that-that was uncalled for.” Logan hummed, amused.

“Join me for dinner,” he said suddenly and he placed his hands against the arms of the throne. “You and your entourage are welcome to stay in the castle for the next week and we can discuss matters in a more private setting.” Confusion flashed across Virgil’s face and he looked towards the guard to his left, a question of whether or not he should accept floating between them.

“I accept your invitation,” Virgil responded a moment later, his eyes still locked with that of his guard. He turned back towards Logan with a polite, sardonic smile. “It was an honor to meet you, King Logan of Cygnas.” Logan raised his eyebrows but did not smile back.

“And it was certainly interesting to meet you, King Virgil of Xious.” Logan pushed himself off the throne, sliding his right arm into the crutch someone in his periphery offered him.  He stepped down the stairs until he was face to face with the Xiousian king.

Virgil was a lot shorter so up close.

Logan offered his hand and Virgil stared at it a moment.  The room held its breath as the Xiousian processed the gesture.  Hesitantly, Virgil uncrossed his arms and gripped Logan’s admittedly much larger hand.  Logan shook once, a firm yet gentle motion, before releasing and walking right past the young king towards the door of the throne room.

At the very least, he had an excuse to write Remus.

-

Remus,

I’m afraid I write to you not with personal anecdotes but with political news.

 T’is dreadful, I’m aware.

The young boy king of Xious dropped by this evening, though it will be a few days past by the time this letter reaches you.  He is small, but skilled with his language.  His father very obviously groomed this boy for the throne at a young age.  He stutters, though.  It reminds me slightly of myself at his age.

I have invited him to stay at the palace for a few days, provided he have dinner with me.  I will write you after the dinner; hopefully I will have more information for you then.  Your brother told me that he threatened war over the treaty, but he seemed quite offended at this accusation, lending me to believe that there has been a miscommunication.  You were there for this exchange? I need both sides here.

Just so you are aware, and please relay this to Roman but do not tell your father, he has given me an offer to avoid crossfires of war.  I don’t pretend to understand why he would offer to have me fight alongside his kingdom or die and then turn around and be offended at me saying that he is planning war.  I fear there are other factors at play, not simply a confused child at the reins of a job that no individual can truly succeed at. 

I hope you are well, my love. 

Sincerely,

His Majesty, King Logan

-

       Preparing for the dinner on such late notice made everyone on the castle on edge.  Logan rarely had visitors as it was and as such, unused guest wings weren’t cleaned with the frequency that was kept throughout the more populated sections of the castle.  If worries of war breaking out over a scared teenager weren’t plaguing Logan with every waking moment, he might’ve taken a moment to thank each staff member that passed him by.

He made a note to up their pay for the month.

“You know I’m not one to question your decisions,” Remigius, Logan’s head guard, said as the king and him walked down the hallway, “but enemy Xious here? In your castle?”

“If I turn them away, I will not gain any information that could actually be of use to our allies.  The Ticevan princes would not lie to me and so I am eager to understand exactly why I’m being told two different stories.” Remigius scowled.

“You’re ignoring all the potential security concerns, babes, we don’t have the manpower to guard all the guestrooms, even if they only have ten in the security detail.”

“It’s thirteen,” the king said offhandedly as they turned a corner. “The person dressed in the steward colors had a knife hidden up their sleeve.  Some type of holster, I presume.” Remigius paused, gaping at Logan – who kept moving down the hall at a rapid pace – before jogging slightly to catch up.

“I don’t wanna even ask how you caught that.” Logan smiled wryly.

“I’m doing everyone’s job at once,” Logan began, his voice vaguely humorous as if he were starting the beginning of joke. “I have to pretend to do yours at one point.” Remigius scoffed and Logan knew he would cross his arms if he wasn’t holding onto his spear. They made their way down the rest of the hall, their voices in a hushed chatter and Remy complained about what an awkward position Logan put him in and Logan shooting back that this is exactly what he hired Remy for.  When they arrived at the door, Logan sighed heavily.  “This isn’t something I want to be doing, Remigius,” Logan said softly. “Preventing a war from happening is just as taxing as fighting the war itself.”

“I agree,” Remy said, “but you have to remember our limits.”  Logan sighed again, before pushing open the door into the small conference room. 

Originally, Logan had a council of advisors and early on in the last day’s of his mother’s reign and the beginning stages of his own, he met with them frequently.  Every book on ruling and being fair that Logan could get his hands on emphasized the importance on seeking others’ outlooks on each decision a ruler made for their country and when he was nineteen and fresh from his mother’s funeral, Logan dove straight into that.  Looking back on it, it was a poor decision.

For many reasons.

Years later, Logan was still stuck weeding out nobleman who gained their positions through willful missights by both his parents or a generous donation of money towards the upkeep of the castle.  The budget for the upkeep of the castle was woefully tight and it had always been that way, so he was sure that his parents squirreled away the money somewhere or maybe wasted it away. 

Presently, Logan still stuck by the idea that a stable king had stable council, but it was increasingly difficult to find said steady council when all the councilors seemed keen on starting wars at every given opportunity.  The only nobles or advisors or councilors Logan allowed in his presence anymore were handpicked himself, regardless of status.

Or attitude for that matter.

Dominic Dormis, known colloquially as “The Critic” and called Dice by everyone who was just out of enough common sense to have a conversation with him, sat in the middle of a long wooden meeting table, papers spread artfully around him.  He was the brother to Remigius, though ironically, it was Remigius who insisted that Logan not hire Dominic.  Logan ignored his head guard’s advice and it was the best decision he had ever made.

“Tell me, Dice,” Logan started, walking over to look over the advisor’s shoulder at the papers sitting in front of him, “how urgently do I need to try and fix this all?” Dice laughed humorlessly as he threw his pen down and leaned back in the chair.

“You’ve made a right mess of this, darling!” Dice exclaimed, tilting his head back to look Logan in the eye. “No matter how often they run the numbers, nothing looks favorable.” Logan sighed deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Are we really that low on manpower?” Logan asked, his voice bordering on desperate, and screwed his eyes shut. Dice tutted his tongue, motioning towards the papers.

“I haven’t been here all morning trying to spread our defenses across the Xiousian border for nothing, darling,” Dice snarked.  Logan opened his eyes slightly to glare at him.

“We’re aiming for peace, Dice,” Logan snapped, “not to antagonize the same kingdom threatening war by placing our entire military on the border.” Dice just shrugging, looking down at the papers.

“It was the only way I felt we had a chance,” Dice said defensively.

Oh, damn it all,” Logan swore under his breath. “What are your thoughts on Ticevas lying?” Dice just scoffed.

“Please, the boy had a point.  We Ticevans have a tendency for the dramatics.”  Logan scrunched his nose.

“So am I to march up to the Crown Prince and his general brother and tell them to their face that they’re lying? Were they even at that meeting?” Dice shrugged, picking up his quill to dip it into ink and scribble a note into the blank space of one of the pages. “Why is it that when I am listing all the things going wrong, you jump right in, but when I try to figure out a solution, you just sit there nodding?”

“You hired me for a reason,” Dice replied in a singsong voice. “I tell you what you need to hear, Logan, not what you want to hear.”  Logan crossed his arms, his face pinched.

“What do we do then?” Dice sighed and moved his head back down, searching through the sheets of paper.

“You either side with Xious or you get them to back down,” Dice says, reciting the words from a piece of paper held close to his face.  Logan narrowed his eyes and swiped the paper from Dice’s hands, much to his advisor’s indignance.

“Dice, this just says ‘you’re screwed’.  That’s not entirely professional.  I do have to present these papers to the princes of Ticevas.” Dice scoffed, pushing his chair back and kicking his feet up on top of the desk. “And now your feet are on the table.”

“You’re very good at observations,” Dice said wryly. “Look, you have that dinner with the Xiousian king.  Make it count.  Make yourself likable.” Logan moved to open his mouth but Dice cut him off. “Diplomacy and facts might work with more stable-minded individuals, but this is a kid, Your Majesty.  You need to charm him.” Logan tossed the papers back on the table.

“Fantastic.”

“It’s not all bad, Your Majesty.  Emile said that he’s your-”

“No.”

“What?” Dice asked innocently.  He blinked up at Logan. “It’s a good strategy, my lord, it will work, especially on a boy his age.”

“I will not be using my dead sister’s name in war talks, Dice.” The advisor scrunched up his nose.

“Well, yes, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound all that wonderful.” Logan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Dice shuffled through his papers and Logan could hear him scribbling down notes and calculations.  “A right mess you’ve made of this, Logan.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” the king hissed. Dice snorted. A knock came at the door. “Enter!”

“Well, hello there, Dice! It’s been a while,” Emile said as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.  Logan looked up to see Dice waving slightly, leaning forward against the table onto his elbows.

“Hello, dear brother-in-law,” Dice said amusingly. “It’s a shame you are so busy these days, we’ve hardly had a chance to speak one-on-one.” Emile’s eyes crinkled and he laughed.

“That’s what family dinners on Sundays are for, Dice, it’s not my fault you never show up.”

-

“Your Majesty,” Logan greeted coolly, rising up from his seat in order to bow slightly.  His knuckles were braced against the edge of the table, allowing his body weight to distribute. “How kind of you to join me this evening.” 

Virgil stood in the doorway, classic Xiousian furs piled up around his shoulders and wrapped around his head.  His eyes swept across the room, as if admiring each piece of furniture and morsel of food.  His face was shadowed by a thin wrap covering the tops of his head and draped across and around his neck, but Logan could still the stringy black hair that reminded Logan of himself when he was a teenager. The way Virgil held himself reminded Logan even of his parent, which was not necessarily a reminder that he was looking for. If he were superstitious, it would feel like a bad omen.

Logan felt the weight of what this dinner meant settling across his shoulders like a physical presence.  Ever since the meeting with Dice, several other nobleman came up to him, trying to play up the might of Cygnan army.  They acted incredibly patriotic but Dice’s intel (and also that of his brother, Remigius) showed him what their true intentions were.  Deals with investors and black markets across both Cygnas, Ticevas, and Limora could make them rich if Logan decided to follow through with the war. 

None of them seemed to take into consideration quite exactly war would mean for absolutely everyone else.  Sometimes it felt like everyone thought him as naïve as a dog running after a phantom stick.  He was the King of Cygnas, the kingdom associated with all things knowledge.  He had some common sense.

“Come sit,” he invited, motioning to the seat beside him. “My kitchen staff has slaved over this food all day and it would be a shame to let it all go to waste.” Logan busied himself with tucking his coattails beneath him and shuffling his chair closer to the table, but he kept track of the careful steps Virgil took towards the table.  He eyed the guards at the door. 

Virgil’s personal guard followed his charge to the chair, inspecting it before allowing the boy king to take a seat.  Gently, the boy unwrapped the fur shawl from around his shoulders and the guard took it from him, draping it against the high back of the chair.  “It is custom to wear wraps that cover our heads,” Virgil says, his voice tiny in the giant room.  “I hope this does not offend you.” Logan waved his hand in dismissal.

“I hope you are not offended that I am not wearing one myself,” Logan says, motioning for a servant to pour them drinks. “In Cygnas, it’s typical to wear less clothing in the presence of guests, though,” Logan gestured at himself wryly, “the same does not usually apply to the royal household.” Virgil gave a small, but genuine smile.

“My father was a…lover of our culture,” Virgil responded, “as am I.”  He paused for a moment to lift up his wine glass to his guard, who took a small sip.  Whatever the guard was looking for, he didn’t find and he handed the cup back to the teen. “However, I understand that you have your own customs.” Logan nodded, beginning to pick up his cutlery to start eating.

“In Ticevas,” Logan started, “it is customary to bow in a particular fashion before approaching the monarch.”  He gave Virgil a humorous look.  “Of course, when my mother passed, may her soul rest among the stars, I had many things to worry about and I stormed into a meeting with the King before bowing.”  He took a sip of his wine.  “I don’t believe the Crown Prince or his brother have ever let me live that one down.”  Virgil gave him a curious glance.

“Are you close with the Crown Prince and the Prince-General?” he asked innocently.  Logan held back a deadpan look.

“As close as life-long allies can be,” Logan said, a hint of a smile creeping into his voice. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

Logan heard a small, exasperated huff as he looked down to his meal and resisted the urge to chuckle.  The boy was smart, but he had little tact. 

He was doing better than Logan would have done at this age, regardless.

The clinking of ornate cutlery against fine china filled the room as the two began to eat.  Logan could see the young boy struggle to use the wares that were just a tad too big for his hands and wondered how such a boy could threaten war but not know how to handle utensils.

Maybe he simply used swords to eat. 

Logan banished the thought from his mind.  The past was the past, as his mother would say every time the Xiousian king would extend an invitation to his castle.  

Damned Xious.

“How are you finding the meal, Your Majesty?” Logan asked coolly. He didn’t look up from his plate, but he heard Virgil fumbling with the fork and knife.  He ought to stop playing mind games with children. 

“It is suitable,” Virgil replied, his words slightly muffled by what seemed like a mouth full of food.  Logan looked up to see Virgil swallow harshly and washing down the ball of food with a gulp of wine.  “I appreciate your hospitality, King Logan.”  Logan tilted his head to the side.

“I accept your thanks.”  Logan cut a piece of meat, and held it up to his lips. “Your father was a frequent guest at this castle and I hope you will be as well, as you grow into your role as monarch of Xious.”  Virgil nodded nervously, fiddling with his silverware instead of responding. “Speaking of which,” Logan continued, “my condolences to you and your family.  Losing family is something I am woefully familiar with.”  Virgil nodded again; his eyes were downcast.

“May his soul rest among the stars,” the young king murmured. Virgil straightened his back, having slouched slightly, “He was good father to me.  He taught me well.”  He paused for a moment, looking down at his plate. “Though, there is no other family to console.  I am his only heir and my mother died young.” Virgil looked at him inquisitively. “You would have known her, no?” Logan resisted the urge to try and swallow down the lump that had grown in his throat.  He hadn’t thought about Virgil’s mother in a long time.  It was a shock to try and remember it all.  Realizing he hadn’t responded, Logan cleared his throat, busying his hands with cutting a slice of the meat on his plate.

“Yes, I was good friends with your mother,” Logan said, his voice on the edge of trembling. “I simply…forget she is not here with us, from time to time.”  Virgil hummed in response. “Your father was a strong king,” Logan said, instead of continuing down the previous path of conversation, “Do you plan to follow in his footsteps?” the Cygnan inquired after a moment. “He was quite focused on the military, but this is a time of peace, as you must know.”  Virgil froze slightly and Logan resisted the urge to smile.  Finally, he’d pushed a button.  Virgil began to look up towards his guard, presumably for guidance, but he aborted the movement, tightening his grip on his wine cup that he’d reached out for as Logan was asking his question.

“It is quite a…” Virgil paused, quirking his lips as he brought the wine cup up to his mouth, “bold statement to claim peace, considering what your allies in Ticevas have accused of me.” His hands were shaking.  Logan bowed his head in agreement.

“Though, if what you say is true, there is no reason to fear, is there?” Logan tilted his head. “After all, if there is war to be had between you Ticevas, there is little reason for you to be here, at the castle of a Ticevan ally.”  Virgil gulped down his wine nervously and the guard behind him gripped his spear threateningly.

“Peace is a lot harder to defend than a home front, Your Majesty,” Virgil said at last, setting down his glass with a clumsy hand. “It is best to be prepared for the worst, as my father always said.”  Logan raised his eyebrows and Virgil’s shoulders seem to shrink slightly.

“We simply have different tactics then,” Logan shrugged artfully, careful not to become too casual.  The Xiousian guard glared. Virgil shifted slightly in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

“Uh-” Virgil went red at the noise, busying himself with cutting another piece of meat. “What-What tactics do you employ, then?” Logan looked up from his plate, smiling slightly.

“Cygnans pride ourselves on our practicality.  The budgeting reflects that,” Logan explained, taking a sip from his glass. “We have dedicated numbers for each individual aspect of the government, numbers that are reviewed daily by our famed scholars.” Virgil leaned in closer, his eyes wide. “And what of you? You said that your father always liked to be prepared.”  Virgil blinked a couple times before shrinking back into his seat.

“Well, my father, as you said, was a very strong man and he-he wanted that reflected in his kingdom, I suppose.”  Logan raised an eyebrow.

“You suppose?” Virgil fumbled to correct himself.

“No- not that I suppose, I know that is what he wanted.  He taught me that himself,” Virgil rushed out.  “He always said to me that being overcautious meant two things. One,” Virgil lifted up his index finger; Logan marveled at how small the child’s hands were, “you are prepared for what comes, or option number two,” Virgil lifted up a second finger, “you are pleasantly surprised.”  Taken slightly by surprise, Logan huffed out a small laugh.  Virgil beamed, his smile almost glowing.

It was times like these that Logan had to fight himself to see a burgeoning king, instead of an unsteady young boy.  Logan was lucky he had his mother when his parent died when he was but being the tender age of twelve years old was not a fact that prepared himself for the death of someone so influential.  If not for the queen, he would have been forced to take on the harrowing task of being responsible for millions of people’s lives, something that haunts him in his dreams even at his older age.

“You are quite the comedic guest,” Logan said amusingly. “It’s difficult to catch me by surprise.” Virgil went shy, ducking his head.

“I must give credit to my father then, may his soul rest among the stars,” Virgil blushed. “It was he who said it.”  Logan tutted good-naturedly.

“But it was not your father who made me laugh, was it?”  A glimmer danced in Virgil’s eyes and a fierce protectiveness came over Logan.

“No, I suppose it was not.”

-

They moved to Logan’s official office, not the throne room nor the desk in his room where Logan kept most of his paperwork.  He hated the ornate decoration of the space, the gold-plated wood, and curtains of the that never ran out of dust no matter how often you beat them.  He hated the paintings of the wall, memories of his mother and his parent and his sister.  They were all gone, were they not? What was the point on dwelling on it?

Roman called it unhealthy.  Remus called it remembering the dead how they deserved to be remembered.  Logan called it practicality.

Virgil and his guard followed him inside.  Reluctantly, Logan motioned for his head of security to follow him into the room. Before he shut the door, he motioned for Remigius to come close. “You do not touch a hair on that boy’s head,” Logan threatened, his voice calm and soft despite his words.  “I will not be the one who starts this war.”  Remy gave him an odd look.

“And if he attacks?” Logan sighed, eyeing Janus who had his hand on his charge’s shoulder.  They seemed to be speaking words, but Logan could hear nothing from where he is. 

“If the boy attacks, you go for his guard.” Logan stared Remigius right in the eye. “I meant what I said.” Logan bowed his head, bracing his hands against his waist. “Send word to Dice that this meeting is not to be interrupted under penalty of treason. No one but you, me, and King Virgil and his guard will know what transpires here tonight.” Remy nodded, saluting, before whistling over another soldier to relay the message.  Logan straightened his shoulders, holding his hands behind his back, and turned to face Virgil and Janus.

“Feel free to sit down, we might be here a while.”

-

The room was silent.  You could drop a pin and the sound would ring out through the hall.

“I’m not sure I quite understand,” Logan said quietly, his left hand flat against the desk.  Virgil shifted nervously in his seat, no longer hiding his glances to his guard on his right. 

“I wasn’t at that meeting with the diplomats,” Virgil repeated, before shutting his eyes tightly. “Didn’t- wouldn’t your contacts that were at the meeting have told you this?” Logan looked down at the papers scattered artfully across his public desk.  His memory flashed to the stack of letters hidden beneath a false bottom drawer in his room and the distant feeling of being wrapped around his lover.

“No, they had not,” Logan muttered under his breath.  He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly. “This changes many things, Virgil, I hope you understand.” He jumped at the sound of a thump against the ground, looking up to find Remy in an attack position and the Xiousian guard with a deadly stare.

“That is Your Majesty to you, King Logan,” the guard gritted out.  Virgil averted his eyes from the scene, staring at the carpeted designs on the wall.  Logan blinked a few times before clearing his throat.

“But of course,” he amended. “Please accept my apologies, Your Majesty.”  Virgil nodded sheepishly and the guard nodded approvingly.  Logan motioned towards Remy. “Remigius, stand down.  It was a simple correction on my manners, one that is sorely needed.” Remy reluctantly stood down, casting a wary glance towards the guard. Virgil sighed, burying his head into his hands.

Logan looked at the clock on his desk.  It was getting late.

“How,” Virgil asked, his voice bordering on a whine, “does this change things, your so-called allies refused to give my people aid after we practically kissed their boots asking so.”  Logan shook his head, exhaling.

“No, Your Majesty, that is not what I have been told and that’s what becomes the problem.” Virgil peeked through his hands and Logan’s harsh expression softened and his shoulders dropped. “Your Majesty, I have been told by the Head General and Prince of Ticevas himself that your diplomats promised war if they did not lower the rent and heighten the amount of food Xious could take from the crops.  There was no talk of famine or aid and King Romulus does not take kindly to threats, whether they be true or false.”  Virgil sighed, sinking forward so that his elbows were against his knees.

“What would you have me do then?” Virgil asked. “Call my own advisors and agents liars?  Do you know what that kind of position that would put me in? And let’s not forget the fact that those same advisors were put there by my father and removing them would be an affront to his legacy.”  Logan gritted his teeth and clenched his hand into a fist.

“And what am I to do?” Logan asked, holding a tone of incredulity. “Write to my allies in the South and tell them that it was all a misunderstanding?” Virgil sighed deeply. “Your Majesty, I do not want war.  My people are thriving and bloodshed would stunt that, I know it goes the same way for you.” Virgil shook his head and straightened up in his seat, his face gaunt in the flickering candlelight that brightened the room.

“I would do anything to prove Xious is a force to be reckoned with,” Virgil muttered, rising to his feet. “You would do well to remember that, King Logan, or I will be forced to show it to you.” Logan glared, bracing his hands against the desk as if he were about to stand.

“Does what I just said mean nothing to you?” Logan seethed, leaning closer to Virgil. “If your people are truly facing a famine—”

“-are you doubting the word of a king-”

“-then they cannot handle an invasion!” Logan slammed his palm against the desk.  Virgil’s eyes were wide and angry and Logan’s chest heaved.

“You know nothing about my people,” Virgil seethed.  “Janus, we are to leave immediately.  His Majesty has shown us that we are not respected here.”  Virgil stood up from his chair, but Logan held out a hand, bowing his head towards the wood of his desk.

“Wait.  Please,” Logan breathed. “I don’t want this to escalate.  I lost myself.” Virgil glanced at him with disdain but did not make to move towards the door. “I take your word as truth, Your Majesty, just as I take the Ticevan princes’ words as truth.”

“Then what do you propose, King Logan?” Virgil sneered. “You cannot believe a truth and a lie at the same time.” Logan nodded, setting his hand down.

“Please take my words with a grain of salt, King Virgil,” Logan said softly, looking the young king in the eye. “Have you ever considered that, maybe, your diplomats and advisors are looking for war?” Virgil’s nostrils flared. “No, please, listen.  I am also forced to re-examine my alliance with Ticevas here, this is not just you who is put into a compromising position.”

“Your Majesty, please listen to what you’re saying,” Virgil said after a beat of silence. “You’re accusing my trusted advisors and diplomats of treason.  Of lying to the crown.  That comes at the penalty of death in my country.” Logan nodded understandingly, breathing in deeply.

“Please, stay a few more days,” Logan offered. “Think about this.  Talk with your people and I will talk with mine.  The Crown-Prince is due to arrive as soon as tomorrow and perhaps, we can clear things then.” Virgil glanced at his guard – Janus, he’d called the man – who merely stared back.  Whatever passed between them solidified Virgil’s decision and he turned back towards Logan.

“So be it.”

-

Roman and Remus arrived two days later and Logan felt like he was about to collapse.  Virgil and him had been going back and forth for days, letters arriving by the sack-full, no doubt several angry diplomats coming after Virgil for even thinking that they could potentially be treasonous to the crown. 

Logan himself was dreading such letters coming in from his own advisors, whenever he finally found a way to prune them out, but he pushed that aside.  He had to worry about one thing at a time.  His advisors could wait.

When the Royal Carriage for Ticevas finally arrived, it was like weights measuring a ton were lifted from Logan’s shoulders.  The worry and the anxiety soothed itself and it was like the answer to all his problems rested inside the gilded coach.

“Crown Prince Roman, General Remus.” Logan greeted cordially, a playful smile on his lips. “It is a pleasure to see you so soon after your previous visit.” Logan held out his hand and Remus stepped up, bowing and pressing a kiss to the ring on Logan’s finger. Roman merely smiled, bemused by his brother and best friend.

“King Logan, the pleasure is all mine,” Remus returned, nothing in his voice hiding the utter glee in his eyes. 

“My steward will take you to your quarters and then, perhaps, you could join me in my office to discuss a few things before dinner.”  Remus’ smile grew, nearly splitting his face in half. Logan’s eyes crinkled in pleasure.

“But of course, Your Majesty, your hospitality is most gracious.”  Roman accepted, not-so-subtly bumping his elbow into Remus’ stomach.  Remus scrunched his nose and moved to step on Roman’s foot with his heeled boot, but Roman skillfully avoided the maneuver, following Emile who was beckoning the twins to follow him.  Remus scoffed under his breath as he moved to follow his brother and Logan had to resist a smile.  As Remus passed by, the prince reached out his fingers, the action so subtle, no one but Logan saw it coming.  Logan reached his own hand out, under the guise of adjusting his lace cloak, to brush skin against skin.  He breathed in deeply and it was like the sun had just peeked through the clouds at the end of a horrid winter.

A few, long minutes later, Remus finally entered Logan’s room, shutting the door behind him. “So,” Remus said playfully, “what matters of business are we to discuss?”  Logan laughed and something in his chest loosened.  He unclasped the ceremonial lace around his shoulders, letting it flutter to the ground as he strode across the room and wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders.

“I’ve missed you, Remus,” Logan said reverently, digging his nose into Remus’ neck.  He felt Remus lean against him, wrapping his thick arms around Logan’s lithe frame.

“I’ve missed you too, quill,” Remus said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come alone to see you.  It’s been far too long since we’ve just existed, you and I.” Logan sighed, stepping back but not letting go of Remus.

“I know,” the king said apologetically, moving to brush Remus’ bangs from his eyes. “Maybe that will change one day, but I can live with this.  At least I get to have you in arms once again.”  Remus’ ears went red, but his smile merely grew and he jutted out his chin in pride.

“I’ll go down in history as the one to make the stern Logan of Cygnas crack,” Remus teased, digging his fingers into Logan’s sides, where he knew the king was ticklish.  Immediately, Logan tensed, giggling.  “Aha! I’ve discovered your weakness.”  Logan slapped at his lover’s hands childishly, giggling even when Remus pulled his hands away.

“You menace,” Logan said softly, grabbing Remus’s face between his two hands and pulling him in for a long overdue kiss. “You will be the death of me, I swear it.”  Remus smiled and leaned back in for another kiss.

Eventually, they made their way to Logan’s bed, kicking off extraneous pieces of ceremonial garb and their shoes, determined to be as comfortable as possible without making it difficult to leave the room in a rush.  “Why do we actually have to do things,” Remus whined, shoving his face into Logan’s chest.  Logan chuckled, the sound rumbling more through his diaphragm than an actual noise.  He ran his fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of Remus’ neck.

“We’re royalty, Remus,” Logan said humorously, with the tone of someone whose had this conversation with the other prince many times. “If we don’t do things, other things don’t work.” Remus groaned.

“The other things should be able to figure it out on their own,” he grumbled. “I don’t wanna leave yet.”  Logan pursed his lips, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“I know,” he said wistfully, letting his head fall against the headboard. “I don’t want to leave either.” Remus gripped Logan’s waist tightly and Logan lifted his head slightly to look down at the prince. “Is something the matter?”  Remus looked up at Logan, a frenzy in his eyes.

“We should run away,” Remus whispered, careful of anyone sitting outside the bedroom doors. “You and me, we could run away and never come back and they’ll think we died a bloody death and all of our problems would be solved.” Logan smiled softly and brought up his hand to brush Remus’ white bangs from his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be a bloody death if there was no blood,” he critiqued good-naturedly.  “We’d have to find a decent substitute and leave quite a few red herrings for them to follow.  They wouldn’t just see us gone and give up.”  Remus stuck out his tongue, blowing a raspberry, and Logan just scrunched his nose.

“You’re no fun,” Remus grumbled, shoving his face into Logan’s stomach.  “Always making plans make sense and be rational.” Logan chuckled.

“You certainly thought I was fun when we dissected that deer together,” Logan said. “I was so sure my mother was going to barricade me in my room after she saw the mess we made in the dining room.” Remus scoffed and Logan huffed lightheartedly.

“Your mom just didn’t like that we ruined the wood of the table with all the blood.”

“To be fair, that table had been in the castle for over two centuries.”

“Then it was obviously due for a remodeling.  We did her a favor.”  Logan let out an uncharacteristic snort  and he could feel Remus’ smile pressed against his torso.

“Maybe so,” he said, carding his fingers through his lover’s hair. “I wonder what she would think of me now.”

“You are doing a much better job than she ever did.  Not to mention how much better you’re doing than your parent.” Logan sighed, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, I would hope the bar would be higher than my parent, but I suppose as the next monarch, that is exactly where the kingdom’s standards are at.”

They fell quiet, the only sounds filling the room were that of the steady rise and fall of their breathing.  The sun gradually set in the sky as they spent hours wrapped up in each other, too afraid to let go as if they would be dragged apart as soon as they did.  It had been too long, Logan thought, his head bowed of Remus’ as the prince dozed against him.  He didn’t know if he could do this again.

Eventually, Logan moved Remus’ head to the pillow beside him, waking up the prince from his gentle nap. “Where do you think you’re going,” Remus grumbled, shooting out his arm to trap Logan’s hips against the bed.  Logan smiled softly, but removed the arm from his body, tucking it gently against the prince. 

“Your brother and I need to talk about what’s been going with Xious and King Virgil,” Logan said, swinging his legs slowly over the edge of his bed. “It’s gotten infinitely more complicated than I would have hoped.”

“What’s the way to fix it?” Remus asked, stretching out like a spider across the bed.  Logan pushed himself up off the bed, holding his nightstand as a support.

“At this point, I’m not sure,” Logan admitted, shuffling to his dresser. “I need Xious to agree to not fighting if everything doesn’t go their way and I need Ticevas to agree to providing aid.  They’re in the midst of a famine and Roman has a short temper so high stakes plus-”

“High stakes plus my dumbass twin does not equal peace,” Remus finished for him and Logan snorted. 

“Exactly.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” Remus said.  The king draped his ceremonial cloak around his shoulders and paused.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Logan said hesitantly. “I’m hoping that-” he cut himself off, before glancing at Remus. “I’m hoping Virgil will be a little bit like me.” Remus’ eyes widened and he rolled onto his side facing Logan.

“I’ve got to say, beating heart, that’s quite a tall order.” Logan looked away, avoiding Remus’ cutting gaze.

“Well, it’s my only hope that the boy has a minute amount of common sense in his bones.” He chuckled. “It’s either hope for that or pretend that Roman has all the common sense and I somehow doubt that.”  Remus gave full-body smile and Logan smiled as he stared down at the floor. “I don’t want to leave, Remus,” he said quietly. 

“Come here,” Remus said, his voice holding a sensual lilt.  Logan turned his head back up. His lover had a hand stretched out and a wicked smile spread across his face.

“Remus,” Logan said warningly. Remus scoffed.

“Oh please, we won’t get messy unless you really want to,” Remus teased. “I just- you need a distraction and I can give you that.” Logan swallowed nervously, trailing his eyes up and down Remus’ body.

“Can you?” Logan said at last.  Remus closed his fist in a “come hither” gesture and Logan couldn’t stop himself from indulging, at least one last time.

-

Logan woke up that morning with the feeling of someone slamming a hammer into the inside of his temple repeatedly. 

Now, there are several things to unpack in this statement.  For starters, there is no such thing as a hammer being present inside his skull.  It is impossible and Logan wasn’t sure if a hammer so small with such power could even exist. 

And although Logan continuously prided himself on not believing in the superstitious, his mother’s upbringing had instilled certain fears in him and his inability to even handle the sound of his skin against his bedsheets did not sit well with him.

Pain in his head such as this was usually only cured by drinking ridiculous amounts of water and resting for hours on end.  Logan grabbed the glass of water sitting on his bedside table, drinking it as if his life depended on it, and then slammed it back onto the wood surface as he threw his legs over the side of his bed.

As soon as the cold air hit his knees, he recoiled and tightened his fist in the blankets.  Although Cygnas was in its spring prime, thunderstorms still found their way into the season, as if to plague the king himself. 

Today would not be a good day.

Dressing was a struggle.  He pretended not to see Emile wince as he battled his way into the immense amounts of garb considered necessary at diplomatic conventions.  Navigating his room brought tears to his eyes and frequently, he found himself gripping onto the nearest surface and taking heaving breaths as he waited for the pain in his legs to subside enough for him to keep going.  He knew he was in for it when Emile presented his crutches and he didn’t even think twice before slipping his arms in and resting his entire weight against the mobility aid. 

Logan must have looked as haggard as he felt because every worker of the castle who crossed his path as he dragged himself to the throne room immediately scuttled away, for fear that his temper might cut short with them.

He couldn’t blame them.

Sinking into the plush chair that awaited him in the giant dining room he insisted on eating in each morning was a relief.  The ache in his knees lessened as he stretched his legs out, but every so often, a twitch or a jolt of his body would cause the throbbing to pound in time to the hammer in his head.

Emile set the platter of food in front of him and did not even hesitate before patting the king on the shoulder. “I’ve requested that Remus join you this morning and I’ve given the others orders not to disturb you until you call for me.” Logan looked up at his steward with alarm, but Emile just smiled. “I’m a sucker for romance, Your Majesty, and I’ve known for far too long to not notice the signs.” 

“I didn’t realize we were so conspicuous,” Logan murmured, leaning against the back of the chair. Emile just shrugged.

“You remind me of my husband and me is all.” Emile pat him again, this time on the head, and let a small chuckle loose when the king blinked rapidly in surprise. “Have a good meal, Logan.” 

Emile left the room, skipping slightly, and opened the large doors to run face-to-face with Remus, who smiled so widely at the sight of the steward that even Emile seemed a bit taken aback.  Logan hid his smile behind his hand as Remus lunged forward to wrap his arms around Emile’s waist and pick him up, squeezing the shocked steward. 

When Remus set him back down, Emile wobbled slightly, though the laughing Logan heard from across the large dining hall soothed his worries that Remus hadn’t been gentle enough with his steward.  Emile patted Remus on the cheek gently and the prince beamed as Emile slipped past and shut the door behind him.

Remus’ smile seemed to spread even more at the sight of Logan, however tired and disheveled he looked to the rest of the world.  Whereas Emile’s skip outside of the room was small and barely noticeable, the Ticevan seemed to leap into the air as he wiggled his way to Logan’s side. “Hello, my dear,” Logan greeted softly, careful not to jostle his legs as he reached a hand to grasp at Remus.

“Hey, Logie,” Remus said just as quietly, gripping Logan’s hand to his chest and he sunk to one knee so that he could rest his forehead against Logan. “Emmy told me that you weren’t feeling so spic-and-span.” Logan huffed through his nose in amusement.

“Since when are you on such good terms with my steward?” he asked rhetorically and Remus didn’t so much as laugh as jostle his shoulders. “Are you two conspiring against me?”

“And what if we were?” Remus asked. “Maybe it’s my job to seduce you and then Emile’s gonna, I don’t know, take over the kingdom.”  Logan chuckled out-loud.

“I’m not sure how seduced I can be in this state, but I have no doubt the kingdom would do well in Emile’s hands.” Remus pouted.

“No, Logie,” he whined, “you’re supposed to be a tyrant, not a reasonable human being.” Logan smiled and shrugged his shoulders lightly.

“My apologies,” he whispered as Remus closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.  Logan breathed in deeply through his nose and shuffled closer, reaching his other hand to grip at Remus’ neck.  They broke apart and Logan sighed happily, shoving his nose into the strip of bare skin at Remus’ neck.

“You really must be going through it if you’re this cuddly,” Remus mused, releasing Logan’s hand so he could card a free hand through soft hairs the base of the king’s scalp.

“All the evidence points towards today not being a good day.” Remus made a sympathetic noise.  Logan pulled back and Remus let him rest against the chair backing.

“Don’t you have that meeting with my brother and the little pip squeak?” Logan snorted.

“I don’t know if the volatile King of Xious would be amenable to being called a pip squeak, but yes, I do.  In approximately an hour and a half, I’ll be trying to stop the leaders of two kingdoms from killing each other.”

“Sounds funky fresh.”

“Where do you even come up with these sayings?”  Remus shrugged.

“I sneak around here and there.  Father is...quite preoccupied with preparations for the coronation so there’s little else he notices, especially regarding my whereabouts.”  Logan tried to make eye contact with Remus, but the prince ducked his head. “I’m truly fine with it, I think I just miss...I miss making an impact,” Remus paused before snorting, “good or bad.”

“Trust me,” Logan said, a bit more sentimentally than intended, “you always make an impact.” Remus gave Logan a smile on the teary side.

“You’re biased, Logan, isn’t that against your whole thing about logic and true verdicts?” Logan made an offended noise.

“It’s an objectively true fact,” Logan insisted. “Nearly everyone would agree with me.” Remus just gave a shrug, still seemingly disbelieving of the king’s statements, but he stopped refuting them, so Logan counted it as a win. 

Eventually, Remus moved to the chair beside Logan and they made their way through the food platter, obviously stocked with some Ticevan delights that few knew were the prince-general's favorites.  Laughing too hard made Logan’s legs ache with the movement and his head continuously throbbed, but the stack of rocks that had built up on his chest seemed to fall over at each joke or hidden barb at his brother that Remus made. The sun slowly rose up in the sky, highlighting the two lovers, whispering and giggling as if they were teenagers all over again.

“It’s been two hours,” Logan remarked at one point, recovering from a bout of laughter that nearly sent him to the floor. Remus shrugged, his trademark rebellious smile playing at his lips.

“And?” Logan gave him a deadpan look.

“I have responsibilities, Remus.” The prince waved a hand in dismissal.

“Responsibilities, shmesponsibilities,” he leaned in closely, shuffling his chair so that he could touch their noses together, “let’s burn this place to the ground.”  Logan smiled, his heart full in his chest.

“So long as my library stays intact, there’s no reason why this place doesn’t need a renovation,” Logan teased.” Remus bit his lip, trying not to laugh, and Logan saw him pump his fist in celebration underneath the table. “Of course, I’m joking, dear Remus, I quite like my home.” Remus ceased his excitement to feign disappointment.

“Oh, you’re no fun, Logie,” he moaned, throwing himself back into his chair.  Logan merely grinned and raised his cup to his mouth, sipping as Remus thrashed about.

The doors to the dining hall creaked open.  It was like a switch had been flipped.  While Remus maintained his strewn about position, he pulled his chair away and spun the food platter so that it was sitting directly in front of Logan.  The king swept a hand through his hair and gingerly lifted his legs from their spot against an ottoman set underneath the table so that he could sit with his back straight.  His hand was clenched around his glass and Logan felt like his heart was in his throat.  Remus, though he mastered looking casual in tricky situations, had a nervous air about him that Logan could feel from where he was sitting.

The guest stepped into the room without much fanfare and turned to make sure the door was shut behind them.  Their white tunic shone brightly in the morning light.  They turned around and the gleaming smile and red curly hair instantly relaxed the entire room.

“You bastard,” Remus groaned, sinking down into his seat. “You fucking bastard.”  Roman merely smiled innocently as he approached the table.  Even Logan slumped slightly, taking a few deep breaths as he lifted his aching limbs back onto the ottoman to stretch out.

“You caused an immense amount of anxiety, I do agree.” Logan said, trying to take another sip of his glass to calm down.

“Not my fault you guys haven’t gone public yet,” Roman teased as he took the seat next to Remus. Remus groaned theatrically and Logan shook his head.

“We’ve been over this, Roman, there are many reasons why Remus and I cannot be out of the metaphorical closet and-” Roman raised a hand.

“I know, Pocket Protector,” he said, “I was just teasing.” Logan rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to cross his arms in a petulant manner. “Are you ready for the meeting?”

It felt like an avalanche had just toppled over his body, the way Logan felt like he couldn’t breathe.  Chills filled with heat raced up and down his back and he let go of his glass to discreetly wipe his hands against his cloth napkin. “I- I suppose that I am, I have all the documents prepared in the primary office.”  Remus must’ve noticed how he was fidgeting with the napkin because his brow furrowed and he opened up his mouth.  Logan all but threw the napkin back to the table and made quick work of setting his legs back down on the ground, cutting off whatever Remus wanted to say to him.

“Wonderful!” Roman cheered, not noticing the exchange going on between the two lovers, or the immense glare Remus was now sending his way. “I can escort you to the meeting place?”

Logan waved him off. “You go on ahead, Roman, I will have to take my time this morning,” he said as he stood up and slipped his arms into the crutches leaned up against the table.  Now it was Roman’s turn to furrow his brow and grow concerned and Logan cursed the day he became friends with the two princes. “I will be fine.”

Remus huffed through his nose, muttering something under his breath that Logan knew to be calling him out as a liar, but he refused to acknowledge it, only bending slightly for Remus to kiss him on the cheek as Roman stood from his seat.

Roman trailed the way, throwing the heavy oak doors open and all but marched down the hallway to Logan’s office, where the meeting would take place.  Logan struggled to find his footing, the dull throbbing in his head and knees expanded tenfold as he tried to walk to the door.  He felt Remus’ gaze on him, but he refused to turn back, afraid that he would just melt to the ground if he made eye contact.  He walked past the threshold of the dining hall and the guards swung the door shut behind him.

-

Walking to the meeting felt like it took another three hours, though logically, Logan knew it had only been twenty minutes.  Walking without his aids would’ve taken another forty at this rate and quite honestly, he was proud of the pace he was making.   

What was admittedly awful about said twenty minutes was the amount of time it gave him to think.

Logan enjoyed thinking; it was practically his job to think.  Cygnas remained the kingdom with the region’s largest library and it brought him never-ending joy to contribute to that collection.  Studying and researching was a favorite pastime and the only thing he enjoyed about hosting events and having guests was the knowledge they would bring him about their homes and countries.

But this felt like something entirely different than the thinking he had come to enjoy and take pleasure in.  This felt like a worry after worry compounding into itself, growing bigger and bigger until he felt like a small child in the middle of the eye of a storm.

His office door loomed in front of him and the pressure of thousands upon thousands of souls rested heavy on his shoulders.  Memories of his sister and parents swirled around him, ghosts long since dead risen again for the sole sake of reminding him what lay before him should he fail.  His vision swam and had he not been resting steady against his aids, he would have surely toppled over from the weight of his ancestors and their collective duty to protect his people placing itself on to him.

He motioned for the guard standing by the door to open it for him.  There was no ominous creak as it opened, but Logan’s mind filled in the blanks. 

Roman and Virgil sat across from each other in front of the fireplace, an antique tea set sitting between them.  As Logan stepped inside, they both rose to their feet to greet him. “Good morning, King Virgil, Crown Prince Roman.  I am glad to see you both here.”

Virgil bowed, a symbol of respect in Xious.  Logan felt an odd lump developing in his throat, but he swallowed it down.  Based on the growing look of offense on Roman’s face, Virgil had not given the crown prince the same honor.  Roman simply shook his hand and preformed a rune in the air, with a motion to push it towards Logan, a standard Ticevan greeting of monarchs in a formal setting such as this.

Logan nodded his head towards the seats and motioned for Emile, who he just noticed was standing in the corner of the room, to gather the papers at his desk and bring them to where they were sitting. “Let us begin, shall we?”

Virgil and Roman resumed their original positions, while Logan took up the seat that was not usually there at the head of the coffee table.  Emile poured him tea as Logan spread the documents across the table, handing each party a copy of the details they were there to discuss.

“Thank you for hosting this meeting and acting as a mediator, Your Majesty.  It is quite the honor,” Roman said, glaring daggers at Virgil over the tops of the papers he was skimming.  Virgil nodded in agreement, setting the papers to down to pick up his cup.

“I agree with Ticevas, and that is quite the thing to say, seeing as I don’t agree with Ticevas on much of anything at all.” Roman went red in the face and Logan saw the grip on the papers tighten as Virgil innocently sipped at his tea.

“It is my pleasure,” Logan said. “I simply want the best for my people and I have strong evidence to believe that this meeting will be fruitful for all parties involved.” Roman wrinkled his nose.  Logan almost kicked him in the shin.

“I, for one, want this to be resolved.  My advisors grow restless with me having been away for so long,” Virgil said.  Logan furrowed his brow at the mention of the advisors.  He was unsure of how much of the previous conversations between him and Virgil he wanted to bring up with Roman present, but he might ask if Virgil would be willing to discuss more in private.

That is, if everything went well today.

“If it is amenable to the both of you, I would like to begin with the meeting that took place two months ago, as of today.”  Virgil went tense and Roman scowled. “It is to my understanding that neither of you were there at that meeting.”

“That is correct,” Roman said. “However, my brother was there and I trust his word.”

“Your Highness, we are not here to discuss the alleged threatening on either side,” Logan cut in. “If I wanted to do that, I would have let your two kingdoms go to war already.” Virgil snickered, hiding his laughter behind another sip of tea when Roman glared at him.

“I am simply stating my matter on the opinion,” the prince harumphed, crossing his arms.

“I was hoping-”

“I don’t think hope will get you much of anywhere,” Virgil snarked, still holding the cup to his mouth. Logan sighed, his headache beginning to spread to the middle of his head.

“Please, let me speak.” Virgil shrugged, but Logan could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“The Ticevan land has been rented out to the kingdom of Xious for centuries.  The rates of rent have always remained the same.  Why are you asking for the rates to be changed, King Virgil?”

“My kingdom is in famine,” the boy said primly, jutting out his chin.  “We need food and Ticevas has plenty to share.”

“Ticevas has been plenty generous with the land we’ve offered to you, we have no obligation to give more.”

“Xious offered for you to have the largest military this side of Capemin at your disposal in exchange for lowering the rates for five years, you cannot look me in the eye and say that we did not give you reason to accept our proposal.” Roman looked taken aback.  Logan averted his eyes to the papers on the desk.

“I know Xiousians are a lot of things, but I didn’t know they were liars,” Roman said, almost conversationally.  Virgil startled, looking slightly like an agitated feline.

“Your Highness,” Logan said warningly. Roman waved him off.

“No, no, this is bullshit-”

“Roman-”

“There was never such an offer and I am offended at the mere idea that we would even accept such a savage exchange.” Virgil’s eyes seemed to flash red.

“Savage? If I remember correctly, that land was ours in the first place, but you pushed my people out and forced them to run into the mountains where they barely survived-”

“-I resent this accusation-”

“I didn’t mean for you to enjoy being called a murderer, Crown-Prince Roman, that would be pretty savage if you did.”

“Logan, throw him out.” Roman turned suddenly to the older king.  Logan looked at him over the top of his glasses, flitting back to Virgil who now had his arms crossed and looked five seconds away from storming out.

“No,” Logan said calmly. He saw Virgil blink in surprise. “I invited you both here for a civil conversation and so far, you are being anything but civil-”

“He started it-”

“-and you’re not even letting me finish my sentences.” Roman’s nostrils flared and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Is Cygnas not a Ticevan ally?” Logan looked nervously at Virgil, but the younger king avoided his gaze.

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing, Logan, you should be supporting me and tossing this riffraff out with the rest of his kind.”

“Your Highness, I will do no such thing.” Roman paused in his motions, unnervingly still.

“Fine.” Roman stood up.  Virgil shrunk back and Logan became viscerally aware that this was not a private conversation between him and a friend about his temperament, but rather a political discussion over whether or not war would break out between their three countries. He had forgotten himself and now everything hung in the balance. “Ticevas officially removes herself from this meeting.”

“Roman, sit down,” Logan demanded, his voice calm even if his hands began to shake. “You don’t want this to go where you’re thinking.”

“Just because you have a soft spot for the boy doesn’t mean I do, Logan,” Roman seethed.  “I don’t have to listen to you and I never have.  I should have ignored you from day one, Logan.  Valerie is dead. Deal with it.”  Roman stalked out of the office, his sleek boots hitting the stone ground sounding like the din of a thousand soldiers marching on the city gates as the noise echoed around the room.

“Valerie?” a questioning voice came.  Logan’s tunnel vision receeded slightly to accompany Virgil in his periphery. “That is my mother.  You were friends- is that why I am here? Because you pity me?”

“No,” Logan ducked his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You- you don’t respect my country or my people, do you?” Logan’s shoulders scrunched forwards, the sheer anger in the child’s voice making even him panicky. It was all falling apart, all the diligent planning, all because he couldn’t handle the pressure of his sacred duty as king.

“If you would let me explain-”

“No! No, I don’t think I will, because you lied to me!” Virgil shouted, his chest heaving.  Logan felt his anxiety crawl into his throat, squeezing his vocal folds shut.

“I never lied to you,” the older king croaked. “And none of this is about you being Valerie’s child, I assure you.” Virgil narrowed his eyes at him, any hint of the camaraderie they had developed over the past few days gone.

“You can’t prove that.” Logan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“When you showed up, my steward told me that I had the right not to speak with you, but you know, I know-” Logan cut himself off, trying to stave off panicked tears. “It was either speak to you or let my country burn to the ground, I had heard what Ticevas was warning me over and it wasn’t about manipulation, it was about protecting my people.” Virgil stared at him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then how do I make you believe me?” Logan exclaimed. “How do I prove what is intangible? That just because Valerie is my sister does not mean that I wanted to control you and your kingdom?” Virgil paused.

“My mother was your sister?” he asked, the quiet room coming to a standstill.  Logan’s face crumpled.

“Virgil-”

“My mother was your sister?” Virgil shouted, cutting Logan off. The older king sighed, his hands clenching around his knees.

“Yes, but-”

“If I die, you have a claim to the throne! You could take over!” Virgil said incredulously.  Logan’s heartrate went through the roof. “Is there poison in my cup? An assassin laying just outside the room? Were the Ticevan disagreements just a ruse to get me here and kill me in my sleep?!” Logan shook his head.

“No, of course not, that would only harm my people, I want peace, Virgil-”

“No, I will not hear it, Xious will not hear it.”  Virgil stalked over to the door, throwing it open.  He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Logan. The burning hatred in his eyes made the older king feel faint. “This is war, Cygnas.  You will have my kingdom over my dead body and I don’t intend on living this realm anytime soon.”

The door slamming shut behind Logan’s nephew sounded like an arrow from a firing squad hitting its mark, right in the center of his chest.

[timeoutforthee]

Like it or Not-Chapter 22

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl, @bubblycricket, @fnp-alizay, @neonbluetiefling, @comicsimpson, @a-little-bit-of-ace

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings:  disordered eating habits, general ignorance, parent/child fighting

Read it on AO3!

“Oh, Jesus Christ, not this again,” Logan heard from the doorway.

He turned. “Hi, Dad.”

“Logan, are you cutting your food again?”

Logan looks down at his grape, evenly divided into four pieces. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…,” because I need to control my food somehow, “Because I need to.”

“You need to?”

“Yes.” Logan says, simply, turning back to his grape.

“People need air. They need water. They need food-”

“Yes,” Logan says, immediately latching on to that, “And this is the way I need to eat my food, ergo, I didn’t misspeak.”

His dad doesn’t say anything for a while, so Logan turns back to his grape, trying to focus on it. His goal this week was to eat a variety of foods, namely a grape, a strawberry, and an apple. This was the first step.

“You realize it’s stupid, right?”

Logan pauses with the piece of grape halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“I mean, you’re a smart kid, Logan, you have to realize that cutting your food the way you do is pointless, a waste of time?”

That almost sets Logan off. You’re a smart man, he thinks, why can’t realize it doesn’t matter how I’m eating as long as I’m eating?

“It’s not pointless to me,” he says, throwing the grape in before he can change his mind. For something that’s barely there, it sits oddly heavy on his tongue.

His dad sighs and heads down the hallway. Logan can hear him tell his mom “He’s doing it again,” before the door shuts and he’s blocked out.

Logan is used to being alone, is used to the familiar chill in the air. But every once in a while, that chill goes down into his veins and he’s not alone, he’s lonely.

The three pieces of grape stare back up at him, laughing. Normal people can eat a whole grape all at once. Normal people don’t have to fight with their parents over useless things. Normal people ate fruit without worrying about whether they were healthy.

Logan was positive he could do this thirty minutes ago. Now it seemed next to impossible.

Now, a voice in his head said, would be a good time to reach out.

No, Logan thought back, I’m not in crisis.

But you’re lonely, the voice said, and you’re struggling to eat. You’re heading to crisis, you need to do something before you get there.

Logan blinks, dumbfounded. Maybe these psychology classes were benefitting him, after all.

He pulls his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. His inbox is empty, as it always is, but this time it causes a weird twist in his heart. He tries to ignore it as he scrolls to Patton’s number. It’s only then that he realizes he has no idea what to do. Does he talk to him like normal? Does he say he needs help? Does he need help?

He stares at the phone for a while, almost putting it away when he hears shouting coming from his parents’ room. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but if he had to guess, it was still about him.

Hello, Patton, this is Logan he types out. Then, without giving himself time to second guess, he sends it.

He gets up and walks over to his grape, allowing himself to have a second piece. Then his pocket buzzes.

Hey Logan! How are you?

He finds himself staring at the phone again. Is this the part where he opens up? Does he tell Patton that he’s struggling to eat? He had the second piece, so is he struggling? Does he carry on conversation normally? He must have been staring a little longer than he intended, because the phone buzzes again.

Everything okay?

My parents are fighting, Logan types out, before he can stop himself, That’s all.

Aw, I’m sorry, Lo :(, Patton responds. Do you wanna talk about it?

I don’t know, Logan types, honestly. I’m not even sure why they’re fighting. Logan pauses, then continues. But I think it’s about me.

About you? Why would they be arguing about you?

My dad...has issues with my eating. Logan pauses, but pushes himself to continue, I know it’s illogical, but sometimes I cut my food really small. To try and get the least amount of calories. To try and control my intake somehow. I think Thomas and I are going to work on it eventually, but right now I feel like as long as I’m eating, it doesn’t matter how. My dad has different ideas. He thinks it’s weird.

You’re right, Patton responds immediately, It doesn’t matter how weird your habits are as long as you’re eating. And your dad shouldn’t care about that. I’m sorry he does.

I just don’t understand why it matters. Logan sighs. He goes back to his grape and eats another piece. One more.

What does your mom think about it?

I don’t know. I can hear them yelling, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. But I don’t think she’ll be happy about it.

Why?

Logan stares at the phone for a while. Well, if he’s going to do this open and honest healing thing, might as well go all in.

I don’t think they’re very happy with anything I do lately.

^

Patton stares at the phone. He wants to be caring and not too harsh, but he also doesn’t want to leave too much time in between texts, so he finally settles on

Are you happy with what you’re doing lately?

No

Patton’s stomach drops, but Logan isn’t done typing.

I think I could be, eventually, which is more than I thought last year or even a few months ago. And I think the decisions I’m making, like going to therapy and group therapy and taking Psychology, they’re all contributing to that. But they don’t understand that. They think I’m just messing around.

Patton breathes a sigh of relief, then he starts typing.

I think that’s the most important thing for you to remember, that these decisions are for YOUR happiness, because you’re the one who has to live with them, not your parents. And also, I’ve known you for a few months, and I know you don’t take these sorts of decisions lightly, as your parents, they should definitely know by now.

Patton waits for the next message. He sees Logan begin to type over and over again.

Okay. That is...helpful, Patton. Thank you for listening.

No problem! I’ll be here any time you need me!

Also, Patton?

Yeah?

I ate a grape.

!!!!!!!! :D :D :D :D :D !!!!!!!!!!!

Logan I’m so proud of you!!!!!!!!!

Yes, well. I am too, I think. It took me long enough, and caused all this, but I did it.

Hey now, none of that >:( It was challenging for you and you rose to the challenge and YOU SHOULD BE PROUD!!!!

Okay. I am proud.

You better be.

Patton and Logan say goodbye just as there’s a knock on Patton’s door.

“Come in,” he says, and his mom enters.

“Is your friend okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, he was just having trouble with his parents,” Patton sighs.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“It’s just...everyone in group is doing so great and they’re rising to all these challenges, and I just feel like I fall short.”

“You’re not falling short,” Paisley says, adamantly, “You’re doing great, and I’m sure they would say the same thing.”

Patton snickers, humorlessly. Paisley raises her eyebrows, waiting.

“I...haven’t been the most honest person,” Patton admits, “And I think if I told them they would all be disappointed.”

They sit in silence for a while, before Paisley says, “Well...there’s a way to find out.”

“I know,” Patton closes his eyes, “I know. And I’m going to tell them this week. I am. I just...it’s going to hurt, you know?”

“It might not,” Paisley says, smoothing Patton’s hair back out of his face, “They’ll still support you, I’m sure.” Patton looks skeptical, “Dr. Sanders has to, at least, that’s his job.”

“Yeah, but it was nice having friends,” Patton says without thinking. He immediately regrets when he sees his mom’s face fall. “I’m so-”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine,” Paisley says. “It just...hurts. To see you in so much pain.”

“I’m fine,” Patton lies.

“Mmmhmm,” Paisley says, unconvinced. “So what is this thing you’ve been lying about?”

Patton’s face goes pale and his mom kisses his forehead.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me-”

“I’m still purging.”

She pauses, staring at her son with her mouth open. She...never expected a confession.

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, immediately, “But I just couldn’t stop, but Thomas has come up with some new resources and skills-”

Before he can finish, he’s pulled into a hug.

“Oh, honey,” she says as he hugs her back. “I knew.”

“You knew?!” He tries to pull back in shock but she’s not letting go that easily.

“Of course I did,” she almost smiles. Almost, “Mother’s intuition. And I could hear you sneak down at night.” She finally lets him go, and holds him at arm’s length, “But guess what? I still love you. And I’m sure your friends will, too.”

Patton smiles, albeit shakily, “I sure hope so.”

[timeoutforthee]

Like It or Not-Chapter 10

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: mentions of disordered eating habits, self deprecating thoughts

Read it on AO3!

“What the fuck, Dr. Picani?”

“Hi to you too, Roman,” Emile smiles at his client as he sits down, “I’m going to take a wild guess and say this is about gym class.”

“I think you mean my lack of gym class,” Roman says, “Are you the one who wrote a note saying I couldn’t participate?”

“Yep.”

He is slightly taken aback by how flippant his therapist’s response was. “But why?”

“I’ve told you before, Roman, we need to work on your exercising addiction. Putting you in a situation where you are encouraged to indulge in unhealthy habits wouldn’t be beneficial, to you or your recovery.”

“Can you even really be addicted to exercise?”

“Yes,” Dr. Picani says, firmly, “You can be addicted to exercise. You can be addicted to starving, bingeing, or purging.”

“But exercise is good for you.”

“In moderation, and as long as your body is fueled properly. But you were letting your exercise regimen control your life, and you were denying it fuel.”

“Thanks, I remember,” Roman groans, “But it would be controlled in gym!”

“Mmm, so your coaches wouldn’t push you because they’re used to you going the extra mile? They wouldn’t expect more from you or ask why you’re “slacking off”? You wouldn’t feel pressured from them?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” he pauses, “What if I’m just, like, really careful?”

“Let me ask you this. If I had an alcoholic patient, and they wanted to go to the bar, but said they would be “really careful”-they would even pinky promise, should I let them go?”

“....yes.”

“Wow, that was really unconvincing. C’mon, you’re an actor.”

“Hey, I’ve been off for three months, give me a while.”

“Are you planning on getting back into it?”

Roman bites his lip. He has a passion for theater, he always has. But lately, he can’t stand the idea of having all those eyes on him, judging him, and the people in the department weren’t exactly supportive.

“I...don’t know. I have the class, still, so I know what shows are coming up,” Roman wrinkles his nose, “They’re doing Beauty and the Beast.”

“Ah, is that a favorite of yours?”

“No, that’s more along the lines of Aladdin. But honestly? I don’t like doing all the Disney musicals in general. We had so many options this year-Seussical, Charlie Brown, Heathers-”

“You really think they’d let a high school do Heathers?”

“Let me dream!”

“Okay, okay, sorry. So, interesting shows, but instead they went with…”

“The classic fairytale. And every classic fairytale needs a classic prince, and the closest thing they have is this Prince.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just-” Roman frowns, “I got into Theater to step outside of who I am, to break a sort of mold my family made for me, but lately...they just put me into a new mold. And, yeah, this one fits better, but it’s still a mold.”

“I see. So you think your friends from the theater department have trouble differentiating who you are from who you play?”

“I mean...basically. You wouldn’t believe how many girls have a crush on me, even though they know I’m gay.”

“That must be hard for you.”

“Hard?”

“Well sure,” Dr. Picani says, “Having such a big part of your identity, one that took you some time to accept, denied, it can be really troubling.”

“I, uh,” Roman pauses, looking at the floor, “I guess I never really thought of it. I just figured I was making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Really? Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s what my dad said-” he pauses as Dr. Picani frowns, “It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Sure,” his therapist says as he writes. Roman continues to brush things off as “not a big deal” when they are A Very Big Deal.

“Did your dad say this in direct relation to your theater friends not accepting you? Or about something else?”

“If you haven’t noticed, Picani, I tend to be a dramatic guy. My family just gets a little tired of it sometimes.” His therapist quirks an eyebrow, and Roman sighs. “Okay, so when I came out? Back in middle school? My dad was very...quiet about it. Like, he didn’t respond much at all. And because he was so quiet, I assumed he was mad at me. So I spent the entire week working myself up and internally freaking out, and I finally work up the courage to go up to him and ask him if he’s mad at me, and he told me I was being stupid, that not everything is as big a deal as I make it out to be.”

Picani frowns, “How’d that make you feel?”

Roman frowns, concentrating on the ground, “Good...I...guess? Like just because he didn’t respond the way I wanted him too doesn’t mean he didn’t care, and he wasn’t mad at me, so that’s good,” Roman pauses, “What?”

“We haven’t talked at length about your family,” his therapist says, “But if you, as his child, go to him and ask for a more expressive sign of acceptance, he should be willing, as your father, to do that.”

“Oh, he’s willing to, he just doesn’t want to,” Roman pauses, realizing how that sounds, “But it’s fine! I-I don’t need him to. I’m fine, really.”

Dr. Picani smiles, and Roman smiles back, relieved that the conversation is over.

“So, tell me about the rest of your week,” Picani says, tilting his notebook to him so he can write monitor Roman’s relationship to family.

^

“Happy first week of schooooool!” Picani sings out as he enters the room for group therapy. He sits down and pulls a mini confetti popper from his pocket. He pulls the string and a clump of confetti flies into the center of the circle.

Logan sighs. Someday, maybe, he will understand this man. Virgil looks at him from the corner of his eye and smirks.

“While school is rather exciting,” Logan says, “It is no reason for unnecessary celebration.”

“But it’s the little things we should remember to celebrate!” Dr. Picani says, excitedly, “And that makes it completely necessary!”

“...sure. I guess,” Logan replies.

“So, first week of school! New classes, new adventures, so is it starting off like a new Stevenbomb, full of excitement, or like the new season of Spongebob, where you just wish it would end already?”

“I always wish school would end,” Virgil says.

“Aw, being at the new school isn’t helping?” Dr. Picani asks him.

“No,” Virgil responds automatically, but then he thinks about lunch time, about teachers who actually know his name, about material he’s actually interested in, “...maybe a little.”

“Oh?”

Virgil just nods, not bringing anything else up.

“So, what about everyone else? Roman, did you want to tell everyone about the Theater department?”

“Oh, they already know, doc.”

Dr. Picani pauses and looks up from his notebook.

“We’ve been eating lunch together,” Roman says, “That’s...okay, right?”

“Well, yes, as long as you guys are eating together. Sometimes when two people who are suffering are around each other, they influence each other negatively. As in, instead of encouraging recovery, you would encourage unhealthy eating habits in each other.”

Patton’s eyes go wide. Encourage…? But he wanted his friends to get better! He may have deserved everything he was going through, but they sure didn’t!

Looking around, it seemed like everyone else had similar thoughts.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say that’s not going to happen,” Logan says, clearing his throat.

“Besides, we have a babysitter, don’t worry,” Virgil tells Picani.

“A teacher allows us to eat in her room, as long as we actually eat,” Roman clarifies.

“Oh good!” their therapist chirps, “But if we see an increase in behaviors, we will intervene.”

They all hum, seeming to agree that’s fair. Patton hunches in on himself, just slightly, hoping no one notices.

“So I guess you two have to catch me up,” Dr. Picani says, referring to Logan and Patton, “How are your weeks going?”

“Good!” Patton responds automatically, and Virgil is giving him that look again. Inside, he panics. He’s always been so good at brushing off suspicion, why does it not work for Virgil?

It’s clearly also not working for Dr. Picani either, because he smiles and presses on, “And why’s that Patton?”

“Oh, my classes are pretty great! All my teachers are really nice!” Okay, now Picani is giving him that look. Dammit, why was he so bad at this all of sudden? Brushing it off, he sighs, “And...I guess I’m just glad I don’t have to eat lunch alone anymore. It’s a...brighter spot in my day than it used to be.”

“You ate lunch alone?” Virgil asks.

Patton nods. “I mean, I was at a table with some yearbook people, but they never talked to me. It was just them being nice.” Because they couldn’t stand to look at how pathetic you were. “And sometimes I used to eat in the library.”

“I was in a similar situation,” Logan speaks up, “Except I would go around the school offering to do some of the teacher’s errands. They were typically so grateful they wouldn’t question my lack of lunch.”

“Guess you never ran into Mrs. Spencer during that,” Roman says, “that would not fly with her.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

They look at Virgil, who sighs. “I used to eat with my friend, Elliott, but they had this real douchebag of a boyfriend who I hated. And near the end…,” he shakes his head, “Anyway, I used to sneak out the back and hide behind the school during lunch.”

“The end of what?” Emile asks.

“The end of...I don’t know, it. The end of me going to that school, of me living with my dad, the end of-” He stops himself.

“Virgil?”

“The end of our friendship.”

“Whoa,” Roman says, “They must have really pissed you off.”

“They did,” Virgil doesn’t want to say it, but before he can stop himself, he continues, “It’s their fault I’m here in the first place. They broke my trust,” he winces, “Or whatever.”

The question hangs in the air. What did they do? But none of the boys want to ask, and Emile knows Virgil’s not ready to say.

“Anyway,” Virgil shakes his head, “Shouldn’t you say something about your week, Logan?”

“I am simply satisfactory,” Logan says, shrugging, “My classes seem to be enough of a challenge to be intellectually stimulating, but are not too much pressure. I do not have any obnoxious classmates that come to mind immediately. As previously stated, my lunch is better,” Logan lists off.

“That’s great!” Dr. Picani says, “I think one thing you need to remember, Logan, is that we are here to not only deal with any problems, but to celebrate our victories as well.”

“Victories?” Logan says, then adds, “In that case, there is a small…I mean, I have actually started adding jelly to my sandwiches again.” It’s half a tablespoon for half a sandwich, which his taste buds tell him is not enough meanwhile his eating disorder is saying it’s too much. But still. It’s a start.

“That’s fantastic!” Dr. Picani says, and the other three are smiling at him. He suddenly shrinks under the attention. He’s not used to people being so...proud, especially over something so minor.

Because Roman, Patton, and Virgil have seen it. They’ve seen how Logan can only eat half of a sandwich, and then he eats two celery sticks, and he has to break them into quarters before they’re okay to eat. Granted, they don’t say anything, but they must think it’s weird.

Because it is weird, you’re weird, why can’t you just-

“How are you doing about your lack of gym class?” Dr. Picani asks, jerking him back to reality.

“It’s fine,” Logan says. He doesn’t talk about how the numbers are still constantly in his head. The numbers he ate at lunch, the ones that are then sitting in his stomach, as he watches his peers run around on the track, already knowing the exact number they’re burning, how much they would burn if they altered it slowly.

Dr. Picani puts a little star by that. These boys are not as good at lying as they think they are.