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goldencuffs · 4 months ago

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afterglow

inspired by the spectral files series by s.e. harmon!!

The ghost appears in his office after Damen comes back from his lunch break.

Damen’s had a rough week already. The free pad thai in his belly right now is literally the best thing that’s happened to him in months. That’s not even an exaggeration.

The ghost in his office has been around before. He showed up a few weeks ago, at the start of summer, his expression boyish, sunny, hands in his pockets as he’d surveyed Damen’s office with visible interest. Then he had followed Damen to the kitchen and watched him make tea. And then he had pulled faces last Tuesday, during their morning briefings, gagging at the photos of Victor Reynold’s dismembered body.

“I smell Thai,” the ghost says now. He’s pouting. “I want Thai. I love Thai food.”

Damen ignores him, sitting behind his desk and logging into his computer. It’s only twelve in the afternoon. Damen wants to throw himself off the ledge of the building.

The ghost struts about his office, still talking, listing off the other cuisines he loves (Mexican, Indian, Lebanese, Italian) as Damen pretends to read his latest case notes.

“Not going to lie though, definitely shat myself when I had that. I’m talking blocked pipes and everything.” The ghost shakes his head. “Man, that was a rough weekend.”

Damen sighs.

The ghost perks up. “I know you can see me, man. You always get that face when I’m talking to you.”

Damen picks up a pen, just so he has something to do. So he can school his face into something more neutral.

Of course Damen can see the ghost. He sees ghosts all the time. He’s seen them since he was seven years old. As a kid, he didn’t know the children he would play with were dead until Nikandros’ foot had gone through the football they were kicking around.

Since then, Damen’s seen them everywhere. There was a widow who used to hang around Kastor’s old place, shrilly telling him off for painting the kitchen the wrong colour. Kastor had moved out three weeks after Damen had told him that.

Most of the time, ghosts leave him alone. Sometimes they get excited when they realise he can see them. Sometimes they just want to talk. Some of them have harmless requests, like messages they want to pass on to a loved one.

And sometimes there are ghosts like the ones in his office, who don’t seem to have anywhere to go, who only seem to be attached to him.

The last ghost like that had been Aimeric Gaul, this skinny, baby-faced kid who had sad, wide eyes. He could only go where Damen could, and kept mentioning how much he missed his mother.

Three months into watching Aimeric cry in the corner of his office, Damen had driven down to Fortaine to see his mother. Aimeric had sat in the front seat, wide-eyed as he watched the rolling landscape.

When Damen had told Aimeric’s mother that he had a message from her dead son, her husband had pointed a gun to his forehead and said, Get the fuck off my property.

Damen was placed on suspension after that.

So, yeah. He’s wary of the ghosts like this—the ones that are, inevitably, drawn to him. They’re the ones that cause trouble.

Damen’s been through enough, thanks. He’s only just back from his suspended time off, and Jokaste has cleared the last of her things from their place, and sometimes he still panics when he can’t find the ring on his left hand, until he remembers that it’s shoved in a drawer in his closet.

The ghost is still talking. “You know what I really miss though? Dumplings. Highly underrated, man. When’s the last time you had one? Take it from me—have as many dumplings as you can while you’re still alive. ‘Cause, one day you’re gonna be dead, and there’s no fucking dumplings here. Which is shit if you think about it, the least—”

Damen’s phone rings. He picks it up, glad for the distraction.

Makedon’s voice is no-nonsense. “My office, now. Bring coffee.” And then he hangs up.

Damen deliberately doesn’t bring the coffee. Makedon frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything else.

He pushes a file towards him. “Welcome back, kid. Latest cold case is all yours.”

Damen groans. “Seriously? You’re assigning me to cold cases? What about Reynold’s murder? I hear they need more manpower.”

“Nah.” Makedon shakes his head. “Don’t think you’re in the right headspace for all that shit.”

“That shit?” Damen repeats, frowning. “You mean, my job?”

Makedon stares at him for a few beats. “This is part of your job too, detective. Everyone gets assigned cold cases every now and then.”

“Bullshit,” Damen snaps. “You haven’t assigned me a real case in months, even before—” And here, he falters, too ashamed to bring up Aimeric.

Makedon isn’t a soft man. Everything about him is rigid and unmoveable. But he does relax his shoulders a little.

“This isn’t just about what happened in Fortaine. When’s the last time you slept, kid?”

Damen frowns.

“Yeah, exactly. Divorce ain’t easy, and it’s clearly been affecting you more than you realise. You’re so… angry all the time. You clocked the new intern so badly last week, he had to go home early.”

Damen sighs, heart twisting a little. Yeah, okay, yelling at Erasmus in front of everyone hadn’t been a good move, but Damen had his reasons.

…He just can’t remember them right now.

“Work the case with Huet,” Makedon continues, “He’s good company, and isn’t afraid to step up.”

Damen snatches the file. “Whatever,” he mutters darkly. “What’s the case?”

Makedon sighs. “Some kid drove himself into a lake about a decade ago. Was conclusively claimed as a suicide at the time, but his brother’s statement is pretty interesting, suggests foul play.”

Damen’s eyebrows raise. “Murder?”

Makedon shrugs. “The brother was thirteen at the time, and very close with the victim. So it could be an emotional thing. But…”

“But?”

“He pointed fingers at their uncle. Claimed he had strong evidence it could be a murder, but no one really looked into it too closely.”

“Hmm,” Damen says. “So, what, we’re supposed to go on the word of a teenager?”

“A very persistent teenager. Have a look—he’s called at least several times a year to see if the case has been reopened.”

“No shit,” Damen says in surprise. “He actually share any of this evidence, though? Or tell us why the uncle could be the perpetrator?”

“That’s your job to find out.” Makedon yawns. “Where’s my fucking coffee?”

But Damen doesn’t pay attention to him. The first page of the case file is a headshot of the victim.

Damen knows that face. He just left him in his office.

***

Auguste Henri Revere is—was—twenty-five when he died.

He was incredibly popular, well-liked, and good at pretty much everything he did. Damen reads everything in his file: football captain, scholarship student at Arles University, part-time volunteer at the children’s hospital…

He doesn’t seem like the guy who would kill himself. Then again, the worst part about this job has always been that people can surprise you—in the worst ways possible.

Nothing about his death is suspicious. It happened close to midnight, near a popular stretch of road in the city centre. There were several witnesses that saw a cream 1972 Ford Mustang veer off the road, straight into the lake. Police found a suicide note typed on Auguste’s laptop. He had cleaned his room the night before, donated things like clothes, jewellery, and sneakers.

Damen reads what Laurent Gabriel Revere said. Now that statement is strange. Laurent was thirteen when Auguste died. Sources say they were close, that Auguste doted on him, especially since they were orphans, living with their uncle. Two years after Auguste died, Laurent showed up at the police station and accused their uncle of killing Auguste. He claimed he had evidence, but failed to elaborate. Witnesses said they had heard Laurent and his uncle fighting at the Revere home just half an hour before Laurent showed up at the police station.

Police issued a search warrant at the Revere house. His uncle had readily complied. Nothing had been found. Nothing had been found in Auguste’s recovered car either. And there was never an autopsy done on his body.

“Huh,” Damen says.

He looks up at Auguste, who’s staring at the view outside his floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time since he showed up in his office, Damen feels sorry for him. Auguste is twelve years older than him, but now here he is, forever twenty-five. Damen’s older than him now, and it’s strange to think about. What makes him more deserving of life? He isn’t even a good person—not the way Auguste is. Was.

It’s not the most conventional way to start an investigation, but hey, he might as well. “How’d you die?” Damen asks.

Auguste turns to him blinking. His eyebrows raise. “That’s the first thing you say to me after all this time? Jesus, that’s cold, man.”

Damen bites his bottom lip. “Do you remember the day you died? Did you… er.” He can’t bring himself to say kill yourself.

“The day I died? Hmm.” Auguste’s golden eyebrows furrow. “Let me see… I took Laurent out that day. We went to the fair, and he kept pretending he was too old to go on the rides.” His smile turns fond. “Then we… I dropped him home. I went to meet some friends but I don’t think I made it.”

“Fuck!” Damen scrambles up from his seat, and he’s grateful that his office door is closed. He doesn’t think he could explain to anyone why he’s so horrified.

Blood streaks down from Auguste’s mouth, the corner of his eyes. His clothes are soaked through, turning transparent. His golden hair is matted and wet against his scalp.

Auguste moans. “I don’t feel so good. I don’t… I can’t talk about this anymore.”

The blood starts pouring out of his ears.

Damen stands, paralysed, unable to move.

And then in a blink, Auguste disappears.

***

“Damn,” Huet says. “How much do you think this place will sell for? Three mill right? I mean, at least.”

“Shut up,” Damen says. Huet is a new recruit and he is far too peppy and talks far too much. He is definitely not good company.

Privately, Damen agrees about the house. It’s huge, a sprawling mansion adorned with steep, gabled peaks and chimneys, topped with slate tiles that glisten in the sunlight. Ivy and climbing roses cling to the walls. As well as being Superman, Auguste was also apparently incredibly rich.

The man who opens the door is undoubtedly related to Auguste. It’s the eyes—Damen has been staring at those blue eyes in photos and in his office for weeks now.

Richard Revere is in his mid-fifties. His hair is dark, coiled, and his beard is trimmed and peppered with white. There are rings on each of his fingers—giant gemstones that glisten as he shakes Damen and Huet’s hands as they introduce themselves.

He has no qualms about being questioned and invites them in.

Damen’s eyebrows raise. They’re greeted by a grand foyer with a sweeping marble staircase, its balustrade intricately wrought iron, leading to the upper floors. The interior is a blend of opulence and warmth, with high ceilings, ornate moldings, and crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the richly decorated rooms. Antique furniture, plush draperies, and elegant tapestries fill the spaces, each room telling its own story of centuries past.

Richard has no issues with them being in his house. Damen has done this for long enough to go by his gut—and so far this man doesn’t seem like a murderer. He just seems like a rich man from an affluent society.

Richard makes them tea, and then says, “So. You’ve opened my nephew’s case again?”

“We have,” Damen says. They’re sitting on the most comfortable armchairs he’s ever been, in a room with far too many books and far too many globes.

“Interesting.” Richard sips his tea. For the first time, his tone is cold, disapproving. “May I ask why? I believe the last set of detectives were incredibly thorough.”

Damen nods. “I’m sure they were. But you understand we’re in a delicate position. We can’t brush off… certain statements.”

“Ah.” Richard’s mouth quirks in amusement. “So this is about Laurent, then.”

It’s Huet who nods this time. He says, “He called the last leading detective just six months ago, sir. He’s still adamant about…” He awkwardly trails off.

Now Richard looks very amused. “Oh, I see. Of course. Did you know Laurent happens to make those calls to the police station every time we have a fight?”

“Well,” Damen says, as Huet makes a note of that. “We’d like to talk to him too. Is he around?”

“He is.” Richard nods. “Upstairs, sleeping.”

Damen doesn’t react when Auguste appears in the living room. He looks like his usual self, dry and golden, free of blood.

“You need to go upstairs,” Auguste says, and for the first time, there’s a note of frustration in his voice. “I can only go where you go. I want to go upstairs. I want to see my room. I want to see Laurent.”

“We’ll come back later then,” Damen says. He ignores Auguste’s No!

Richard leads them back out into the sunlight. Auguste trails after them, eyes flicking over every inch of the house, his gaze wondrous. It fills Damen with pity.

They make their goodbyes out on the porch. Damen can see some of the neighbours take interest in their police car, but Richard seems unfazed.

A portly woman at the end of the driveway asks them, “Laurent again? He’s a shame to the Revere name.”

Huet raises both eyebrows. Damen makes a mental note of that.

As they walk to the car, they hear a frantic, whispered. “Hey!”

Auguste gasps. “Laurent.”

Damen follows his eyes. There’s a window at the side of the house on the second level. Someone’s opened it up enough to wave at them.

Damen steps closer. Auguste rushes up to the window. “Laurent!”

Laurent doesn’t hear his brother. But he does notice Damen approaching and beckons him over.

Damen stands under the window, shoulder to shoulder with a dead man, and looks up at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Laurent’s hair is golden, falling across those same stunning, blue eyes, his lashes long and dark. His skin is luminous and sweetly pink.

“Damn,” Huet says under his breath.

“He’s so grown up,” Auguste whispers.

“You’re here for Auguste’s case?” Laurent says.

Damen has to strain to hear him. Laurent’s voice is low, anxious, like he’s worried about being caught.

“Yeah, we are.” Damen clears his throat, which is suddenly scratchy.

Something bright sparks in Laurent’s eyes. He’s still whispering. “Great. You think you can meet me at the diner down the road in an hour? I can’t get away until he leaves the house.”

That instantly sets alarm bells in Damen’s head. He frowns.

“God, he looks so different,” Auguste says.

Damen nods at Laurent, who’s still anxious, still waiting for a response.

“Okay, we’ll see you.”

Laurent nods and shuts the window, disappearing from view. After a moment, Auguste does too.

#captive prince #damen x laurent #my writing #my fic #i thought i'd upload old drabbles while i finish writing other stuff lol #this was sitting in my drafts for agesssssssss #anyway read the spectral files its amazing!!!

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folfar · 1 year ago

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I chose the worst possible time to update my fic about Laurent’s journey to MILFdom (in the middle of the ao3 outages) but hey! Here’s a new chapter! Please read it!

Laurent, stripped of his title and married off at 19 to Lord Guion after the death of his brother the King, has been shipped off to his marital home of Fortaine - much to the distress and annoyance of his stepson, Aimeric.

Aimeric, already already having to contend with his brothers (numerous), his annoyances (immense), and his boredom (immeasurable), handles this with his usual aplomb (poorly).

In this chapter!

Aimeric continues to struggle with his father’s new spouse, sees some upsetting things and all-around has a bad day (but hey, what’s new!) On the plus side - he meets a really really good looking guy in the woods, so that has to count for something, right?

#captive prince #captive prince fic #fic #aimeric

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damianosismyking · 3 years ago

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from the prompt list: 3 or 6 for lamen :) love your writing sm!

Hello dear anon! Thank you so much for the prompts and kind words <3 Unfortunately, this turned out a little long. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

|Prompts chosen from this list! |

#3: “Come with me to the other room” – “We are not going to talk about this now.”

#6: “Here, take my jacket” – “I told you I’m not cold” *shivering*

[1,9K words]

It had everything to be the perfect night, but of course, fucking Aimeric would ruin it.

Laurent had been impossible to convince, deadly opposed to getting out of the house unless it was indispensable, and more so getting out of the house to be somewhere loud and crowded.

In the end, Damen managed to convince Laurent through bargain: if he came with him to this one party his friend was throwing, just this time, then Damen would spend the next three months giving Laurent as many back rubs as he wished without complaint.

More than anything, Damen was just happy to get Laurent out of the house. It did him well to be around people that weren’t Damen or his coworkers for a change. To talk about things that didn’t include slide presentations and spreadsheets and whatever he saw on the TV or read on some site. Shake things up a little.

And it worked wonders. Laurent had found a clever girl with whom he connected and had been chatting for a while. He even allowed himself a soft drink (which didn’t have enough alcohol to qualify as an alcoholic beverage). Damen’s heart lurched as Laurent smiled politely, very obviously entertained.

Convinced that Laurent was fine on his own, Damen left the room to witness a drinking competition unfolding in the backyard. He fully intended to take part in it when the lightweight college boy on the left inevitably passed out.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. It was just enough time for Damen to step out to the backyard and see the college boy hurl his insides on the grass, and Laurent was poking Damen’s back with a brutal force.

The light quality that had been on Laurent’s face a moment ago had vanished. His jaw was locked, and Laurent seemed angry like Damen hadn’t seen in a while.

“What happened?” Damen asked, but as soon as the words were out, the reason materialized into the backyard.

Aimeric. Fucking Aimeric.

He came hand in hand with an older guy who was not Jord but might as well have been, greying beard, receding hairline and all. Aimeric’s hair had grown long enough to tie up into a bun since the last time Damen saw him. He greeted and smiled a very politician smile at some folks by the pool, making his way to them.

“What are you doing?” Laurent clutched the front of Damen’s shirt. His eyes on Damen were piercing, and Damen knew it was in an attempt to not let them travel east, to the last person any of them expected to see there.

If only Damen had known, he’d never have invited Laurent along. “Let’s go home,” he suggested.

“No,” Laurent replied steadfastly. “I want to see what you’re doing.”

Damen pulled Laurent to his side, a protective arm swung over his shoulders to keep him from view. The issue was that even trying to keep Laurent from harm, the harm had already reached him. Before Damen had a say in it, Laurent was stepping into the place emptied by the college kid, asking the host to explain the rules for the game.

Calling after him resulted in nothing. A second after, Laurent’s hands were tied back, and he was bending over shot glasses placed at the table, grabbing them with his mouth and tossing his head back to drink. He dropped the glass unceremoniously at the table to mouth the next one and the next one, down the line like it was water.

Laurent won, finishing his shots first. The next opponent took the place of the girl Laurent beat. Once again, Laurent won. He was getting ready for a third round when Damen stepped in.

“Come here.” Damen pulled Laurent closer reaching behind him to untie the hands.

“I was playing a game,” Laurent protested but ultimately allowed himself to be untied and dragged away.

Damen returned inside the house, guiding Laurent by the hand. The shots hadn’t hit him yet, but they would soon. Finally, they made it to the kitchen in search of water.

And there was Aimeric too, like a bad presage. In his heart, Damen prayed Laurent would overlook Aimeric with the back pressed to the stove talking to some guy who very evidently drooled over him.

Of course, Damen wouldn’t be so lucky, and Laurent would gulp his water while burying Aimeric with a deadly glare. It certainly didn’t help that Aimeric met the gaze and leaned into not-Jord’s ear to whisper something and giggle.

It certainly didn’t help that it happened again and again. One too many times.

If it bothered Damen, who objectively had nothing against Aimeric, he could only imagine what it did to Laurent to see his ex-friend magically pop up at every location they ran to and very conveniently start whispering to the nearest drooling idiot.

Laurent’s pupils were blown wide already and his lids heavy. It would get worse, and when it did, it was for the best if Aimeric wasn’t anywhere within Laurent’s sight.

“Come with me to the other room,” Damen whispered into Laurent’s ear.

“We are not going to talk about this now,” Laurent’s groggy response. He didn’t even bother masking that he was intently staring at Aimeric, who laughed carefree with not-Jord’s hand in his back pocket.

“Who said anything about talking?”

Laurent tagged along with Damen, wavering behind him. They crossed the restriction rope to make it upstairs, to the room area Pallas may get angry at him for invading.

But Damen knew the place, and he knew that in Pallas’ parents’ room, there was a nice balcony with a bench where he had sat more than once to get high with his friends throughout high school. It opened to the view of the sleeping neighborhood and blocked the noises from the party happening downstairs.

The night was chilly, even for late Autumn. It ruffled the tops of the trees and shifted strands of Laurent’s hair.

Damen started to remove his jacket, but Laurent rose a hand to his face. “I’m not cold.”

Laurent walked right past the bench and propped himself up to sit at the balcony with a leg hanging off each side. Damen went to stand beside him, in case Laurent lost balance.

Laurent breathed in deeply, his head lolling against a column. “I hate drinking,” he said, squeezing his eyes.

“Do you need more water?”

“No. I need to be sober.”

“Water could help you with that,” Damen pointed.

Laurent shook his head lazily. He swayed until his head hit Damen’s chest. “No.”

Damen tilted Laurent’s chin up to peck at his lips. Laurent’s mouth tasted disgusting, but he leaned in with a soft sigh, and Damen kissed him deeper. It went on for some time. When Damen pulled back, Laurent shivered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damen offered, tucking a strand of hair behind Laurent’s ear.

“About what?” Laurent said. His speech was even more dragged than before, but he knew precisely what Damen had referred to. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Laurent.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Damen recognized a sign to drop the subject when he saw one.

He knew, however, that the fallout with Aimeric was still a sore spot for Laurent. And that regardless of his claims, he missed his friend. Aimeric had been one of the few people Laurent trusted enough to befriend, and after the blown-out fight that resulted in them never speaking again, Aimeric changed drastically into the role of one of Laurent’s fiercer – if not to say most dedicated – antagonists.

Laurent had been telling Damen for months that Aimeric fed people lies about him and twisted his secrets to tarnish Laurent’s image all around. Damen had thought it was the paranoia speaking, the way sometimes Laurent thought people were looking at him a certain way or laughing behind his back. But, as it turned out, Laurent had been right. The realization curled Damen’s stomach and boiled his blood.

“Are you going to tell Nicaise?” Damen asked, running his fingernails lightly up and down Laurent’s nape.

Laurent smiled. “I don’t want him to kill Aimeric.”

“Wise.”

Laurent’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. His pupils were so wide his irises were reduced to little blue bands. He shivered, losing a battle against his trembling jaw. “Here,” Damen said, “Take my jacket.”

“I told you, I’m not cold.” A strong shiver followed the statement.

Damen wrapped his leather jacket around Laurent and pulled him close, resting his chin at the top of Laurent’s head, blond strands tickling his neck. There was a good chance Laurent may fall asleep like that, and Damen would have a tough time getting him off the balcony. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No. I think.”

Damen laughed into Laurent’s hair. “Come lay down.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Damen,” Laurent frowned.

“I meant actually lay down. You’re barely awake as it is.”

“I’m awake,” Laurent said, but he swung his leg over the balcony and hopped off, staggering on his feet.

It was an easy task to take off Laurent’s sneakers and tuck him in bed, always so impossibly pliable when he had a little too much to drink. He was reaching the worse of his drunkenness, barely capable of keeping his eyes open anymore.

“Please tell me if you need to throw up,” Damen said, sitting at his bedside just to look at him. Even poorly illuminated and wholly wasted, Laurent managed to be the most beautiful thing Damen’s ever laid eyes on.

“Lay with me,” Laurent whined.

“In a minute,” Damen said. He planned to go back downstairs once he was sure Laurent had blacked out, to explain the situation to Pallas and try to save face, but Laurent didn’t need to know that.

“You think Ric is going to hate me forever?” Laurent’s eyes were closed, face going lax. The chances he’d remember that conversation after he woke up were minimum.

Damen ran a finger down Laurent’s cheek. His face was flushed red and warm. “Will you?”

Laurent nuzzled Damen’s hand, pinning it in place with his own. “Probably.”

Laurent’s breathing evened out. He didn’t stir when Damen pulled his hand from under his or when Damen stood. To make sure, Damen whispered, “I’ll be back in a minute,” into Laurent’s ear just to see if he’d react. When Laurent remained the way he was, without a muscle on his face twitching to indicate any part of his subconscious remained awake, Damen snuck out with silent steps.

He’d bring a bucket up with him when he came back. And a bottle of water.

Before that, though, he may have a thing or two to solve with a certain brunette.

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arsaces-undone · 3 years ago

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LETS BE REAL ALL U BITCHES WANNA LOOK LIKE ME WANNA BE IN DEMAND GET BOOKED LIKE ME

#yeah also not pictured: aimeric-of-fortaine ALSO @ THE PERSON WITH THE INACTIVE BLOG WITH THE KALLIAS-OF-AKIELOS URL I WILL MASS REPORT YOU #I WILL!!!!!!!!!

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ice-cat236 · 6 years ago

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Jord goes to Aimeric's grave and he always brings him the most beautiful flowers he can find. He makes Aimeric's grave the most beautiful there, in a constant competition with Nicaise's grave, taken cared of by Laurent.

Jord likes staying there for hours and talking to Aimeric, telling him sweet words, like 'I hope you like what I brought you today', 'Your hair would shine so beautiful in this sunlight', 'I love you'. It takes some time until he brings himself to say that, a few tears streaming down his cheeks as he does. He sighes. As if he could hear these words.

Laurent and Damen come there one time while Jord is sitting down, looking at the grave stone. They both stay next to him and began saying stories about both Aimeric and Nicaise. Damen wraps his arm around Jord's neck and says "I know it is hard for you". He nods. "It is, but I am getting used to it" They spend more time than usual and end up laughing, until Jord feels tears in his eyes again. "I miss you" he says, looking at the grave.

Meanwhile, Aimeric and Nicaise's ghosts argue over whose grave is more beautiful and who's more loved. Aimeric wraps Jord in a tight hug and whispers in his ear "Me too", then kisses his cheek.

Jord touches his cheek, a little surprised at the sudden tickle there and smiles. "They were good boys"

"Aimeric was a good fighter" Laurent finally says. "Yeah"

Auguste smiles warmly as he watches the scene. He's so proud of his brother. Both Nicaise and Aimeric look at him and smile.

They will be fine, even without us

#I've been having this in my head for a while #I know Aimeric is probably buried in Fortaine and Jord can't often get there #or he can't at all?#Captive prince #Jord #Aimeric #Nicaise #Auguste #Laurent #Damen

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pourcap · 3 years ago

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thoughts: kr chapter 6

Makedon rode into Fortaine for their first official meeting with his mouth turned down. makedon is such a grump. he probably falls asleep cursing laurent

i wonder how damen feels about having taught laurent akielon now that laurent can take advantage of his language proficiency to conduct negotiations

also: laurent is so cool. it’s really taken him only a few months to become fluent in a language he, until damen, only kind of knew :’)

(...) And that was before the more specific rumours, the murmurings among the men, the sidelong speculation that had Nikandros in the warm summer evening, saying, ‘Take a slave.’ Damen said, ‘No.' nikandros is going to start greying prematurely

He buried himself in work, and in physical exercise. (...) yay we love healthy coping mechanisms... :/

(...) He had known it would not be some stupid fantasy of showing Laurent his country; of Laurent leaning against the marble balcony at Ios, turning to greet him in the cool air overlooking the sea, his eyes bright with the splendour of the view. damen really fantasized about actually being with laurent... man, that hurts. i just want them to be happy and safe and in love

why would damen warn kastor about his return to akielos? is it just because he thinks it’s the right/honorable thing to do? because i’m worried it might’ve been smarter to just show up out of the blue

It’s not naive to trust your family. He had said that, once. :(((((

ugh. guion.

When he saw Damen, Guion bowed in the same way that he would have bowed to the Regent: deeply, sincerely. i really hate guion, but the fact that damen seems to have gotten a better sense of deception makes me happy just because i don’t want him to ever get blindsided and betrayed again

‘Your Majesty,’ said Guion. ‘And just like that, you’ve changed sides.' i LOVE damen’s lack of patience for bullshit

‘I have a lot of sons,’ said Guion, ‘but the supply isn’t infinite.' oh my god, what the fuck. his son killed himself because of what guion let the regent do to him and that’s how he talks about aimeric? what an asshole.

Damen had not spoken alone to Laurent since that night in the tent. ‘He doesn’t betray his friends.' honestly, damen is just as good as laurent at delivering underhanded insults. (also, as usual i love damen defending laurent left and right <3)

(...) ‘Just as I helped to bring about the coup in your country. Now, of course, you need my testimony to win back your throne. That is politics. The Prince understands that. It is why he has allied with you.’ Guion smiled. ‘Your Majesty.' i hate this. i hate this soooo much.

Damen made himself speak very calmly, having come here to learn from Guion what he could not learn from his own men. damen was .2 seconds shy of decking him

‘If he did, having you sent to Vere was rather a miscalculation on his part, wasn’t it?’ ‘Yes,’ said Damen. He didn’t lift his eyes from Guion. (...) i just wanna say that i am SO in love with damen and i am so emotional over how faithful and devoted to laurent he is even now that they don’t really have any relationship

‘(...) Either that, or he wanted the Prince to take you into his bed. The realisation of what he’d done then would kill him. How lucky for you that didn’t happen,’ Guion said. i am so excited for guion to die a painful death <3

‘You killed your son,’ said Damen, ‘when you threw him into the path of the Regent.' i just think that damen deserves to get the best blowjobs for the rest of his life

(...) Would Makedon inform them now what that portion was to be? (...) Only a coward feared competition. He said it to Laurent. Laurent said that from this moment on, any Veretian who struck an Akielon would be executed. (...) It was like watching a boar try to take on the endless blue of the sky. (...) Laurent got his way because when men tried to resist him, they found, sweetly outmanoeuvred, that they couldn’t. oops, fell in love with laurent all over again. for the 348367th time

‘I’ve been there before,’ said Laurent. ‘Then you’re familiar with the area,’ said Nikandros. ‘That makes it easier.’ ummmmm. my heart sank

He poured all he felt into the physical, the emulation of fighting. He couldn’t shake it off. He felt it like an unceasing pressure. The closer they came to it, the stronger it grew. i know damen’s mental health has never been great but i am getting really worried about him

Pale, rigid with fear beyond terror, there was a boy spread-eagled on the wooden target board, tied at the wrists and ankles. (...) A few spears had already been thrown at him. (...) honestly i don’t even know what to say anymore. this chapter feels like one never-ending anxiety attack

‘Stand,’ said Damen, ‘like the men you think you are.' i love him !!! so much !!!

i feel so bad for that boy :(

(...) More had been done to him than a beating. They had put an iron cuff around his left wrist, like the gold cuff around his own—like the gold cuff around Laurent’s. Damen knew with a sickening feeling in his stomach exactly what had been done to this boy, and why. oh my god, what. i am speechless.

The other four stood in place while Damen went to one knee and addressed the boy on the ground again. In a soft, low voice Damen kept him talking. The other men didn’t watch because they were too low-ranked to be allowed to look a king in the face. (...) i love how symbolic that is; damen being on one knee in front of an abused veretian solider while his own fellow countrymen aren’t allowed to even look at his face. damen is fair and kind and a great king <3

damen telling makedon off is so hot to me

‘You walk a fine line with Makedon,’ Nikandros said, on his return to camp. ‘He walks a fine line with me,’ said Damen. ‘He is a traditionalist, and supports you as the true King, but he will only be pushed so far.’ ‘I’m not the one pushing.' i am smiling so much and i don’t even know why, damen is just so cool to me

unrelated, but i really miss laurent

‘How is he?’ He said it into the odd silence, facing Paschal in the light from the torches. ohhh damen checking on that boy is so cute to me

‘No, I meant—’ OHHH he’s checking on laurent. lol. nevermind

(...) He heard himself continue, ‘I don’t expect—’ He stopped. ‘I know that I betrayed your trust, and lied to you about who I am. I don’t expect you to forgive me for that.’ god, you can really tell how guilty damen feels about everything and obviously that’s not enough to ease the pain he’s caused but still, it makes me feel so sad for him

‘You mean to Marlas?’ said Paschal. ouch. that was unexpected coming from paschal

‘Every Veretian knows what the Regent plans to do in Akielos.’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘Rule,’ said Paschal. yeah, fuck the regent. i still can’t wait for him to finally die.

that was a really painful chapter :)

i miss laurent

#damen of akielos #damen #damianos #damen x laurent #laurent #laurent of vere #lamen #capri #captive prince

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deripmaver · 3 years ago

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7 for the fic ask meme 👀

OMG HEY HEY i lov ur writing your "bubble up in me" series fills me with uwus

this got kind of long bc i couldnt pick just one!!!! so its behind a cut just to be safe

7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration?

okay im gonna give three examples bc im a cheater. the first is the ending of the aimeric fic:

It does not matter.

The regent is not here now.

Aimeric is completely, utterly alone.

the second is the ending of "the worlds more full of weeping" (spoilers i guess lol):

He sunk his fingers into the dirt. He felt cradled by it, felt warm and cozy as though it was holding him and not these too-small bones. If Laurent closed his eyes and really, really focused, he imagined he could feel the tiny, skeletal hand clinging to his beneath the earth, the two of them connected like one line from past to present.

“I know how scared you were,” Laurent said, eyes filling with tears. “I feel it still, how scared you were. I also feel how happy you were, what you were waiting for, what you never got to do.”

[...]

“I’m all that’s left,” Laurent whispered, peering down into the blackness of the earth. “I am all that’s left of you.”

He thought, maybe Auguste and I should go riding, later today.

and the third, and a completely different vibe altogether LMFAOOO is just this random sexy stream of consciousness from "control" (huge nsfw lauguste warning lmaooooooo):

How had he thought Auguste wasn’t good at this kind of play? He could be whipped, his tits could be beaten until he cried, they could fuck his open, aching cunt and fill him with their hot cum, and he could endure it – this, though, this, not only being opened wide in front of them but being made to cum through it, it was torture.

It was too much. His body was betraying him, again and again and again, cumming no matter how much he begged them to stop from behind the gag, making him enjoy it like a wanton slut. He never wanted to cum again, but they kept forcing him to, and he could not stop it from happening no matter how hard he willed it. His mind did not matter, his thoughts did not matter, he was just a toy, a slave to his body and his throbbing, swollen clit.

Damen, at some point, abandoned the crop for a second vibrating wand, and he and Auguste rubbed it alternately along either side of his clit, drawing the orgasms out faster and harder. Once, one of them dipped their wand low, circling the tiny dot of his urethral opening, and Laurent begged, “Stick it in there, stick it in anywhere, just don’t touch my clit anymore, please, I’m begging you, I’m begging you-”

Then, the next moment, it was back up on his clit, and Laurent’s sobs turned into screams.

for the first two, i like the narration/description because i think both of these were a kind of character study. i like the aimeric one because i think that's the crux of aimeric's character lmaoooo him having genuinely no support. the ending takes place with aimeric at 12-13 ish, but the ending line of aimeric being alone fits aimeric at basically every age, and also serves as a way to describe him immediately before he commits suicide (the passages of him right before his suicide are interspersed with that final "segment" at 12-13 immediately after the regent has left fortaine)

for twmfow (yes im finally abbreviating the title LMAO its too long to keep writing) i like it bc as ive said before that fic is 100% about trauma and ptsd. at the very end, laurent is finally acknowledging that he can never go back to how he was before he was traumatized, and he's letting himself grieve for all of the things that changed bc of his abuse, of course in this fic very literally as his younger, non-traumatized self is represented by a literal corpse (or, well, skeleton). but just to leave things on a happier note, i wanted to write that yeah, laurent cant "go back" like he wanted to at the beginning of the fic, but he can grieve and he can have new happy experiences with the ppl who love him. AND SO CAN YOU, READER!!!!!!!

for "control" i dont have anything really meaningful to say LMFAO i just am an absolute fucking slut for forced orgasms. the whole fic was inspired by this INSANE hentai manga thats basically the same premise as "control" (but actual noncon instead of cnc). anyway this passage was absolutely filthy and intense and i really liked writing it

#my fic #asks

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lovelivresse · 5 years ago

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Laurent of Vere being iconic a bitch in Prince’s Gambit

“I want you to know,’ said Damen, carefully, ‘that I haven’t done anything to encourage the idea that I—that you and I—’

‘If I thought you had, I’d have had you tied to a post and flogged until your front matched your back.”

“This doesn’t suit me,’ he said, meaning that it didn’t suit him to wear them.

‘No. It doesn’t. You look like one of us,”

(at the brothel) “Laurent raised his fist and applied it to the door. Then he turned to Damen. ‘I assume that’s right? I have no idea how one usually proceeds. This is your arena, not mine.”

“Then Laurent rose and made his way around the table, sitting himself beside Damen, close as a lover.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Verisimilitude,’ said Laurent. The earring winked at him. ‘I’m glad I brought you along. I wasn’t expecting to have to tear things out of walls. Do you visit brothels often?’

‘No,’ said Damen.

‘Not brothels. Camp followers?’ said Laurent. And then: ‘Slaves.’ And then, after the satisfaction of a pause: ‘Akielos, the garden of delights. So you enjoy slavery in others. Just not in yourself.”

“Have I said something to offend you? I didn’t mean—’

‘No. A plausible, benign and uncomplicated theory. Trust you to come up with it.”

“But I am Prince of Acquitart, as well as Prince of Vere, and the laws of Acquitart don’t require me to be twenty one to inherit. It’s mine. There’s nothing my uncle can do to take it,’ said Laurent. And then he said, ‘I suppose he could invade.’ And then: ‘His men could wrestle Arnoul in the stairwell.”

“Damen was watching Kashel as she made her way back to him from the dais. He could hear the sound of drums from the other campfire, a low, constant thrumming.

‘Is this—are you ordering me to do this?’

‘Do you need orders?’ said Laurent. ‘I can direct you, if you lack proficiency.”

“An Akielon has no place in the company of men. Your Highness will understand.’

‘Is my slave making you nervous?’ said Laurent. ‘I can understand that. It takes a man to handle him.”

“The Prince is light in his manner,’ said Councillor Guion, with his eyes on Damen, ‘and does not seem to like to blame Akielos for any wrongdoing.’

‘I don’t blame insects for buzzing when someone kicks their hive over,’ said Laurent.”

“It’s not like you to give up the reins,’ Damen couldn’t help saying.

‘Well, I can’t see the way over your shoulders.’

‘We could try some other arrangement.’

‘You’re right: it should be me in front and you carrying the horse.”

“Laurent said, ‘You have me as an enemy for that. You are not going to enjoy the experience.’

Aimeric said, ‘You go to bed with Akielons. You let them fuck you.’

‘Like you let Jord fuck you?’ said Laurent. ‘Except that you really let him fuck you. Did your father tell you to do that, or was it your own inspired addition?’

‘I don’t betray my family. I’m not like you,’ said Aimeric. ‘You hate your uncle. You had unnatural feelings for your brother.’

‘At thirteen?’ From his frigid blue eyes to the tips of his polished boots, Laurent could not have looked less capable of feelings for anyone. ‘Apparently I was even more precocious than you.”

“That your selfish nature has led you to treason does not surprise me, but how could you betray your uncle’s trust, after the kindness that he has lavished on you?’

‘Uncle’s immoderate kindness,’ said Laurent. ‘I promise you, it was easy.”

“To get inside Ravenel? My dear Enguerran, I’m afraid you are quite mistaken.’

Laurent’s gaze travelled over Enguerran again, his blue eyes cold.

‘I don’t need you,’ said Laurent. ‘I just need your clothes.”

“Laurent swept him with a long, gleaming look.

‘If you didn’t fit Enguerran’s shoulderpiece, I was going to suggest you try the panoply off his horse.”

“He said, ‘What will you do next?’

‘Bathe,’ answered Laurent, in a tone that said he knew perfectly well what Damen had meant, ‘and change into something that’s not made of metal. You should do the same. I had the servants lay out some clothing for you that befits your new station. Very Veretian, you’ll hate it. I have something else for you as well.”

(to Jord) “Here to warn me about the dangers of making command decisions in bed?’ Laurent said.

[...]

‘He knows well enough he should go.’

‘While we compare notes on spreading for the enemy?’ said Laurent.”

“To regroup. My father would never turn his back on his family. Not like you. Spreading for your brother isn’t the same thing as family loyalty.’ Aimeric’s breathing was shallow.

‘That reminds me,’ said Laurent.

He stood, the goblet hanging casually from his fingertips. He regarded Aimeric a moment. Then he changed his grip on the goblet, lifted it, and brought it with calm brutality in a backhanded blow across Aimeric’s face.

Aimeric cried out. The blow snapped his head to one side, as the heavy gold impacted on his cheekbone with a sick, solid sound. [...]

‘Keep your mouth off my brother,’ said Laurent.”

“Stop this,’ said Jord. ‘He’s just a boy. He’s just a boy, he’s not old enough for this, he’s scared. He thinks you’re going to wreck his family.’

[...]

‘I am going to wreck his family,’ said Laurent. ‘But it’s not his family he’s fighting for.”

“I bet you were easy. A few compliments, a little attention, and you gave him all the naive pleasures of a country virgin in his bed. He would have found it diverting. At first. What else is there to do in Fortaine?”

“So says the King.’

There was silence in the courtyard. No one spoke.

‘But there is no King,’ said Laurent, ‘in Vere.’ His voice carried too.”

“My uncle has killed his catamite,’ said Laurent. ‘As a message to us. And what is the message?’ His voice carried.

‘That his favour cannot be trusted? That even the boys in his bed see how false is his claim to the throne? Or that his hold on power is so flimsy that he fears the words of a bought child whore?

[...]

‘And if you want a personal message,’ said Laurent, ‘You can tell my uncle boykiller that he can cut the head off every child from here to the capital. It won’t make him into a king, it will simply mean he has no one left to fuck.”

“He was more than that. You thought of him as—’

‘A brother?’ said Laurent. ‘But I do not have terribly good luck with those.”

“Did you know about this?’

‘Know?’ said Laurent. ‘Everyone knows. I was glad. I just wish I could have seen it happen. I wish I could have seen Damianos when Kastor’s hire-swords came for him. I would have laughed in his face. His father got exactly what he deserved, to die like the animal he was, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it happening. Then again,’ said Laurent, ‘maybe if Theomedes had kept his cock in his wife instead of sticking it in his mistress—’

That was the last thing he said, because Damen hit him.”

#captive prince #laurent of vere

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wizardofarles · 1 year ago

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince) Characters: Laurent (Captive Prince), Damen (Captive Prince), Auguste (Captive Prince), Regent (Captive Prince), Nicaise (Captive Prince), Jokaste (Captive Prince), Kastor (Captive Prince), Theomedes (Captive Prince), Hypermenestra (Captive Prince), Torveld (Captive Prince), Aimeric (Captive Prince), Jord (Captive Prince), Ancel (Captive Prince), Nikandros (Captive Prince) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Catholic Guilt, Modern AU, Auguste Lives (Captive Prince), Teenage Rebellion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Therapy, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incest, Jokaste is a journalist, Auguste survived the war Summary:

“He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22).

In the span of one year, Laurent lost everything; his parents, his best friend, his brother, his innocence. What waited for him in the shadow of his grief presented itself as love. It takes Laurent three years to figure out that it’s not. He teeters now on the cusp of revelation, nudged along by Auguste’s return from war and by a budding romance, but will it be enough to pull Laurent out of the shadow?

AKA: A coming-of-age story in which Laurent is a good catholic boy, until he isn’t.

#figured out how to post the link correctly lol #i wont get rid of the original post but in the future illl post chapters this way. fear not #captive prince #captive prince fanfic #my writing #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #auguste of vere #aimeric of fortaine #others #capri fic #catholic school au #lykmc #laurent x damen #lamen #jokaste #kastor of akielos

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princedamnianos · 4 years ago

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Do you think Laurent was jealous of Aimeric because when the Regent abused Aimeric that was the time the Regent stopped “being devoted to him” that’s why he was extra mean to Aimeric that time in Ravenel? Because Laurent, no matter his abuse, still kinda believed in his uncle (his blind spot as Damen said) and he was groomed when he was young? Also the fact that he said he remembered that travel of his uncle to Fortaine. I’m just so emotional and angry about this.

Hey there anon! Thanks for the ask!

A lot of my understanding of that particular scene comes from the tags in this lovely addition to one of my posts-- the most important line being, “any time I talk about Laurent's self image it is predicated on a very simple assumption, and that assumption is that his conversation with Aimeric is actually a conversation with himself at age 15″.

I do think it’s entirely possible that 14 year old Laurent was jealous that the Regent’s attention was elsewhere. I think it’s equally likely that, by that point, he was relieved for the respite. There isn’t quite enough in the text to have swayed me towards either side yet. Either way, I don’t think jealousy is necessarily what motivates his rage in that moment.

I’ve talked before about my understanding of these cruel lash-outs we see from Laurent; in summary, I see them as a defense mechanism. He uses cruelty to hide his emotions when he is upset or caught off guard, because most people are too scared by that cruelty to see or even wonder what he is actually feeling.

I think the Jaimeric betrayal really shakes Laurent, because they are two of the last people he expected it from. I have always suspected that Laurent was rather fond of Aimeric (from afar, of course). He probably sympathizes a lot with Aimeric’s position; he is shaping himself into a warrior through sheer force of will, and he’s constantly the subject of speculation/harassment. These are things that the two of them share. Laurent also seems genuinely surprised when Damen suggests removing Aimeric from the troop, and I think it is telling that he hadn’t considered that option amidst all the trouble Aimeric is causing. And I think he also likes and trusts Jord, because Jord has always been steadfast and reliable.

Laurent says that he knew his uncle would have spies; he must’ve been constantly assessing who they could be. But Aimeric never really registered as a threat to him, and because he never thought Aimeric was a threat, it never crossed his mind that Jord’s judgement may be clouded as well. Of course he’s mad at them for the betrayal, but he’s really pissed with himself as well for not seeing the threat that they posed.

On top of that, he’s put together exactly how the Regent influenced Aimeric, and that realization also triggered a lot of feelings. Thinking about how Aimeric feel for the Regent’s act has him thinking again about how deeply the Regent had him tricked, too, when he was younger. So I think his lashing out at Aimeric actually has very little to do with Aimeric, and a lot to do with Laurent being angry with himself.

#asks #captive prince #capri #prince’s gambit

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laurent-ofvere · 4 years ago

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hm. do you think that one of the reasons laurent lashed out so violently against aimeric was because since they're the same age, they were sexually abused at the same time? and kinda like how nicaise was insecure about his age - there was a tiny, incomprehensible part of laurent that was angry at aimeric for splitting his uncle's intentions? but that anger (as it usually is) was directed towards himself too, because it's more evidence of how cruel his uncle was with laurent's trust? hm

mm i think that could have been a part of it, though that feels more like something laurent would have been upset over at the time/the time shortly following. he makes a comment about how he remembers all those trips to fortaine, so i feel like he thought about it during the lashing out scene and felt some kind of anger about that specific fact, but at this point in his life i feel personally like it was more of “i was so stupid and clueless”

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failes-xtra-bits · 5 years ago

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Chapter 17/Oh Jordy….

‘I ordered the section cleared,’ Damen said. Jord was intruding(once again).

‘I’m not here for you,’ said Jord.

‘Then state your business and leave.’

‘My business is with the Prince.’ Laurent pushed himself away from the wall.

‘Here to warn me about the dangers of making command decisions in bed?’ Laurent said. There was a short, spectacular silence. The flaming of the torches, the wind striking the walls were over-loud. Jord stood very still. ‘Something to say?’ said Laurent. Jord was holding off from them. The same stubborn distaste was in his voice.

‘Not with him here.’

‘He’s your Captain,’ said Laurent.

‘He knows well enough he should go.’

‘While we compare notes on spreading for the enemy?’ said Laurent. This silence was worse. Damen felt the distance between himself and Laurent with his whole body, four endless steps across the battlements. ‘Well?’ said Laurent. Damen stepped forward.

‘Maybe—’ More sound on the stairs, the clatter of several urgent footsteps. Jord turned. Guymar and another of the soldiers were coming to the section he had ordered cleared. Damen passed a hand over his face. Everyone in the fort was coming to the section he had ordered cleared.

‘Captain. I apologise for the breach in your orders. But there is a situation developing downstairs. A group of the men have it into their minds to make sport with one of the prisoners.’ The world was not going away. The intrusive world was returning its concerns, the issues of discipline, the mechanisms of captaincy.

‘The prisoners are to be well treated,’ said Damen. ‘If some of the men are too full of drink, you know how to keep them at bay. My orders were clear.’ There was a hesitation. Guymar was one of Enguerran’s men, a career soldier, polished and professional. Damen had promoted him for exactly those qualities.

‘Captain, your orders were clear, but . . .’ said Guymar.

‘But?’

‘Some of the men seem to think that His Highness will support their actions.’ Damen gathered his mind. From the way Guymar said it, it was obvious what type of sport he meant. Guymar’s face was impassive, but his faint disapproval was tangible: these were the actions of mercenaries, dressed up in the Prince’s livery. The Prince’s men were showing their inferior quality.

Like an archer fixing on his target, Laurent said precisely, deliberately, ‘Aimeric.’ Damen turned. Laurent’s eyes were on Jord, and Damen saw in a rush from Jord’s expression that Laurent was right, and of course it was for Aimeric’s sake that Jord had come here. Under that dangerous, steady gaze, Jord went to his knees(Stand upl!).

‘Your Highness,’ said Jord. He wasn’t looking at anyone, but at the dark stones beneath him. ‘I know I’ve done wrong. I’ll accept any punishment for that. But Aimeric was loyal to his family. He was loyal to what he knew. He doesn’t deserve to be handed around the men for that.’ Jord’s head was bowed, but his hands on his knees were fists. ‘If my years of service to you are worth anything at all, let them be worth that.’

‘Jord,’ said Laurent, ‘this is why he fucked you. This moment.’

‘I know that,’ said Jord.

‘Orlant,’ said Laurent, ‘didn’t deserve to die alone on the sword of a self-serving aristocrat he thought was a friend.’

‘I know that,’ said Jord. ‘I’m not asking you to let Aimeric go free or to forgive him for what he’s done. It’s just that I know him, and that night, he was . . .’ (Arghhhhh, JORD!!!)

‘I should make you watch,’ said Laurent, ‘while he’s stripped down for every man in the troop to have him.’

Damen stepped forward. ‘You don’t mean this. You need him as a hostage.’

‘I don’t need him continent,(Rude!)’ said Laurent. Laurent’s face was perfectly smooth, his blue eyes cool and untouchable.

Damen felt himself recoil slightly from that callous look, the surprise of it. He realised that he had fallen out of step with Laurent at some crucial point. He wanted to send everyone away, so that he could find his way back. And yet this must be dealt with. The situation here was spiralling into something unpleasant.

He said, ‘If there’s to be justice for Aimeric, then let it be justice, reasonably decided, publicly applied, not the men taking matters into their own hands.’

‘Then by all means,’ said Laurent, ‘let us have justice. Since you’re both so eager for it. Drag Aimeric away from his admirers. Bring him to me in the south tower. Let us have everything out in the open.’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’ Damen found himself stepping forward as Guymar bowed briefly and left, and the others followed him, making for the south tower. He wanted to reach out, if not with a hand, then with his voice.

‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘When I said there should be justice for Aimeric, I meant later, not now, when you’re . . .’ He searched Laurent’s face. ‘When we . . .’

He hit a look like a wall, and the uncaring lift of golden brows. Laurent said, ‘If Jord wants to get down on his knees for Aimeric, he should know exactly who he’s crawling for.’

Damen Laurent and Jord gather in a small room off of one of the parapets. Laurent orders Aimeric Brought along with refreshments. Laurent sat in a high-backed wooden chair. Damen, having observed Laurent so closely, knew that it was about to GO DOWN. But of course our lovely daydreaming Damen can't keep his mind on the business at hand and is thinking about the kiss. And of course ALL that he can think about is how he was cockblocked and wants to get back to it. Aimeric is dragged in by two guards, still looking defiant.

when he saw Jord, he turned white and said ‘no’

‘The loving reunion’ said Laurent. when Aimeric heard that, he gathered his Defiance to himself. the guards took up their hold again, roughly. so his face was still White, Aimeric lifted his chin.

‘ Have you brought me here to gloat? I'm glad I did what I did. I did it for my family, and for the South. ‘I’d it again.’

‘ That was pretty,’ said Laurent. ‘ Now the truth.’

‘ That was the truth.” said Aimeric ‘I'm not afraid of you. My father's going to crush you.’

‘ Your father has ridden to Fortaine with his tail between his legs.’

‘ To regroup. My father would never turn his back on his family. Not like you. spreading for your brother isn't the same thing as family and loyalty.’ Aimeric’s breathing was shallow.

‘That reminds me,’ said Laurent. He stood the goblet hanging casually from his fingertips. He regarded Aimeric a moment. Then he changed his grip on the goblet, lifted it, and brought it with a calm brutality in a backhanded blow across Aimeric’s face(SAVAGE!). Aimeric cried out. The blow snapped his head to one side, as the heavy gold impacted his cheekbone with the sick, solid sound. It left him reeling in the arms of the guards. Jord made a violent move forward and Damen felt his whole body come under strain as instinctively he pushed in to halt him.

‘ keep your mouth off my brother,’ said Laurent. (OK, Laurent is a SAVAGE little french man, he has branded the boys face with the imprint of a goblet AND bloodied his lip in one go)

Damen heard Aimeric say, thickley,’You can hit me as much as you like.’

‘ Can I? I think we're going to enjoy each other, you and I. Tell me what else I can do to you.’

‘Stop this,’ said Jord ‘he's just a boy. He's just a boy, he's not old enough for this, he's scared( fuckin’ creepy). He thinks you're going to wreck his family.’

Aimeric turned his bruised bloody face to the words, in disbelief that Jord was defending him. Laurent turned to face Jord at the same time, his golden brows arching. There was disbelief in the expression too, but it was colder, more fundamental.

It took Damon a moment to understand why. Uneasiness swept over him as he looked from Laurent’s face to Aimeric’s, and realized suddenly and for the first time how close Laurent and Aimeric were in age. There was a six months difference between them, at most.

‘I am going to wreck his family,’ said Laurent.’ But it's not his family he's fighting for.’

‘Of course it is,’ said Jord ‘why else would he betray his friends?’ (face palm)

‘You can't think of a reason?’

Laurent’s attention had returned to Aimeric, drawing close to him so that they faced one another. Like a Lover, Laurent smiled and touched a stray curl tucking it behind Aimeric’s ear. Aimeric flinched, violently, then repressed the flinch, though he wasn't able to control his breathing.

Tenderly Laurent drew a fingertip through the blood that welled from Aimeric’s split lip. (OK, that’s out of line)

‘Pretty face,’ said Laurent. Then his fingers dropped back to brush Aimeric’s jaw, tilting it up as though for a kiss. Aimeric made a choking sound in response to pain; the bruised flesh under Laurent’s fingers was white. ‘ I bet you were a peach of a little boy. A pretty peach. How old were you when you fucked my uncle?’

Damen went still, everything in the tower went still, as Laurent said, ‘were you old enough to come?’

‘Shut up,’ said Aimeric.

‘Did he tell you you’d be together again, if you’d just do this one thing? Did he tell you how much he missed you?’

‘Shut up,’ said Aimeric.

‘He was lying. He wouldn't take you back. You’re too old.’

‘You don't know,’ said Aimeric.

‘Thick voiced and rough cheeked, you’d make him sick.’

‘You don’t know anything----’

‘With your aging body, your overripe attentions, your nothing but----’

‘You’re wrong about us! He loves me!’

Aimeric flung the words out defiantly, they came out overloud . Damen felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, a feeling of total wrongness passing over him. He found that he had let go of his grip on Jord, who beside him, took two steps back.

Laurent was looking at Aimeric with curling contempt.

‘Loves you? You paltry little upstart.I doubt he even preferred you. How long did you hold his attention? A few fucks while he was bored in the country?’

‘You don’t know anything about us,’ said Aimeric.

Ok---- so--- that little speech of Laurent’s is long, and hateful, and mean and he takes Aimeric apart piece by piece with Damen and Jord watching unable to do anything. Needless to say he reduces Aimeric to ‘ugly crying’ the kind where you twist your face up and curl your lips… yeah, not pretty. I almost feel sorry for Aimeric, nah, I DO feel sorry for Aimeric, that was brutal. Damen eventually steps in and has Aimeric taken away. Jord calls Laurent a “Cold-blooded son ofa bitch,” and Laurent rounds on him like a Cobra ready to strike, hood raised, eyes blazing, I’m surprised he let him live. Damen(My Boiiii) gets between them and double dog dares Laurent to have a go at him He reminds him that he makes stupid mistakes when he’s angry. Laurent sizes him up and thinks better of it (He don’t want to fight with his Boo thang, he’s mad but he still wants a piece).

‘What you are saying is that when I lose control, I make mistakes. My uncle knows that, of course.’

OK. Halt. his uncle knew a few other things as well. Like a betrayal would make him crack and bring out the worst in him BECAUSE 6 months apart would mean that Laurent was left alone while his uncle fooled around with Aimeric. He remembers feelings of maybe jealousy and hurt and resentment. it shames him. Since he can’t take it out on his uncle he let’s Aimeric have it (for still being so stupid)

‘It would have been an amusing pleasure for him to send Aimeric to work against me, you’re right. You with your barbaric attitudes, your brutish, domineering arrogance, are always right.’ Laurent’s hands on the table were white (ummmm when aren’t they? You mean more than usual Damen?).

‘I remember that trip to Fortaine. He left the capital for two weeks, then sent word he extended it to three. He said it was his business with Guion that needed more time(see?).’

Damen took a step forward, called by the tone in Laurent’s voice(melancholy? Surely Damen wouldn't respond to anger?).

Laurent said, “IF you want me to calm down, get out.’

(He is forever throwing a tantrum and kicking Damen out. That French temper.)

Fin.

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arsaces-undone · 3 years ago

Text

rec list of 2021 capri fics

but there are no modern lamen aus in it

AS U CAN SEE, I LIED.

Concordia

He’d had hope, after those talks, that when the sting of Olympic loss had faded he and Auguste would be able to salvage something of their old friendship. This doesn’t seem likely now. Sorry I gave you a concussion when I checked you is one thing; sorry I beat you out for the gold medal and then had your little brother wear it while I fucked him is another.

you’ve heard all about this one, and it is all true: best damen, best laurent, best auguste, best erasmus, best hypermenestra. it is all true, and you know this and you’ve read it, so you agree that it would be insane for me not to include it even though we all love it and know about it. so here it is.

above masters

Waiting spilled out and followed Erasmus throughout the day, smooth and viscous like oil, snaking about his arms and entwining with Torveld’s hair as he washed it, staining Torveld’s robes as he folded them. At his leisure hours, Torveld brought it to his lips together with the slices of fruit Erasmus gave him.

literally the best erasmus/torveld fic out there, the best one; it has a wonderful worldbuilding and historic backdrop, it immerses you in the pacat’s slave system so deeply, and so easily too; it completes it so perfectly, i cannot recommend this enough times, it really is a beautiful one.

It Means Everything

"I wish you could be my first."

A shameless reimagining of what would have happened if Erasmus and Kallias had a first night with each other.

shaking and crying and throwing up. this is so hot but also so tender and the summary is too short (but still perfect for it, like yes, that’s it) so i am including another quote from it:

Erasmus thought of the heroes of great epics he’d memorized. He wondered if their chests hurt too when they did daring things.

“It is forbidden,” they were so close Erasmus felt his own breath puff against Kallias’ skin. He didn’t know why he said it, it was the most forbidden thing. Kallias would not have forgotten.

The Devil’s Got Nothing On Me

Snippets from Aimeric's childhood, growing up in Fortaine.

every time i think about this one i light up a cigarette, i take one single drag from it and then i stick it up my asshole.

[this is me trying]

Aimeric would like to say it wasn’t his fault. What happened. He’d like to, but he’s never been much of a liar. Not unless he’s already spitting mad. Lies don’t formulate themselves like prophecies demanding to be spoken, not like they seem to for the others. He blames the fact that he’s never had to lie. He’s only ever had to hide and hope his parents don’t find him when he fucks up. With five older siblings, it had never been particularly hard.

sometimes when i am in a museum for homework or pleasure or whatever i remember this fic and i have to stop myself from making eyes at the security guards so we can go through whatever (affectionate) this fic is.

Breaking News

“You smell like alcohol,” Kashel says bluntly. Auguste rears back, surprised. “And tobacco, and it’s nine thirty in the morning. You look like you haven’t slept, you didn’t answer any of our insistent calls for two hours, and, if I’m not wrong, you’re a university student. You’re not exactly in peak condition to take care of another human being.”

Auguste can’t find anything to say.

very good! very sad! very funny! very heartbreaking!

On one’s knees

To stop the war between their countries, King Theomedes and King Auguste reach an agreement. After all, they both have a prince in their households to spare.

the best example of a maca fic, in my opinion. have wanked to this before and now i am telling. like, i think about this fic once a day, every day. insane genius. a fandom classic.

The Stars Go Waltzing Out In Blue And Red

Ordinary men didn’t last long when they were wading through the rivers of blood that surrounded Kings and Crowns. And if they didn’t drown, then the gallows in whose shadow the throne stood usually had a few ordinary bodies swinging from it.

Lazar was in it now and he knew his choices were swim or swing. Thank the gods for pretty Akielon’s or Lazar just might have to take this whole thing as seriously as Jord was.

the most fun read of the year, beautiful character and setting exploration, i really laughed a lot reading this one.

King of the Woodlands

Damen knew Laurent was good with animals. He was the only one who always managed to calm spooked horses down, and he was the first person the palace hounds would run to whenever they wanted to be pet. Damen didn’t think too much about it at first, but after a while, he started to suspect that Laurent had the ability to talk to animals.

Or Laurent is a Disney Princess with a habit of collecting strays.

beautiful. the sweetest. the adorablest.

no net ensnares me

Father had proposed it - the match - and Auguste had gone along with it with Laurent’s own blessing. It would keep him off their backs, it would be fine, they could handle it.

this one has a very sweet, intimate style.

#YES. THERE IS LAMEN IN THIS. THERE IS. IT'S ME BEING FUNNY. CLICK ON IT.#i wasn't gonna post this but i still think these fics deserve love and attention i adore them #and hiuh isn't here because maca would get mad at me or something 🙄

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