#bc they always do things like darken the palms of their hands the same shade and mistakes of that nature | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nikanndros · 7 years ago

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The Hennike (and Auguste) Lives AU. Part 2/2.

Unedited bc 10k in one day does not make me want to put my eyes on this ever again. At least it’s finished now!! [Part 1] -

It takes less than an hour for Damianos to find Laurent after that, reading in the gardens.

“Did I offend you?” he asks.

“No,” Laurent replies dryly, turning a page. “I find the way you send your servants to manage your social interactions very alluring.”

“Ah,” Damianos says. He smiles and takes a seat on the bench. “I wasn’t sure if you’d welcome my attentions. I thought sending a servant would make it easier for you to say no.”

“You don’t intimidate me.”

“I don’t think I could,” he says. “But to be honest, Makedon intimidates me and I’d hate to see what he’d do to anyone who didn’t show you all the respect you deserve.”

“Usually, he just gives me a sword and tells me to take care of it myself.”

“You are talented with a sword, then?” He sounds pleased at the revelation.

“Perhaps we can spar some time.”

“I would like that very much.”

Laurent finally gives up the pretension of reading and closes his book. He gazes at Damianos, who looks more like a sun-bathed figure of old myth than a man, and considers what it would be like to let this flirtation go further. Most of his romantic interactions are soldiers offering to fuck him. They’re usually fueled by the desire to conquer something pretty and Veretian. Damianos, who theoretically could have conquered part of Vere, doesn’t seem to have the same intentions.

“So,” Laurent prompts, “you were going to ask me to ride with you?”

Damianos grins.

The wedding is big, dramatic and beautiful. Kastor’s bride is decked in purple and silver Patran ceremonial wear, and Kastor can’t seem to take his eyes off her. Laurent, from his place in the audience, seems to be having the same reaction to Damianos, who stands to the side of Kastor and grins at him through the entire ceremony.

Looking at Damen is a mix of exciting and terrifying. He’s beautiful and has all the good-natured charisma that a king should possess. But he also is Akielon, and it scares Laurent that he doesn’t know when he stopped thinking of that as a bad thing. As it is, he appreciates the chiton that displays Damianos’ powerful calves and thighs. His red cape falls over only one side, which also gives Laurent a view of a broad shoulder, the line of pure muscle.

It seems that after first considering Damianos as a prospect for intimacy, Laurent can’t stop thinking about it. He thinks he’d like to feel that wide chest pressed against him, to wrap his hands around Damen’s biceps and claim his pouting lips.

Makedon says something to Laurent then and he startles. “What?” Laurent says.

Makedon just grins at Laurent and shakes his head.

Damianos spends most of the feast that evening caught up in the duties of a Prince at his brother’s wedding, but he often finds moment to search the crowd for Laurent and to smile at him. It feels like they are on the cusp of something. Laurent finds it very hard not to smile back.

It’s a silly idea, to want to woo the Crown Prince of Akielos, but Damen has a mystery fiancee out there somewhere, and Laurent can’t remember ever feeling quite so attracted to anyone before. A quick dalliance, a summer infatuation, feels almost like a good idea. He’ll allow Damen to give Laurent his attention for the next couple of weeks in Ios, and then he’ll go back to Sicyon and they’ll both forget all about it. He has no doubt that he’s just someone exotically pretty who has caught Damen’s eye.

“Laurent,” Damen says, taking the seat next to Laurent. He sounds joyful and a little drunk. It’s late enough in the evening for some people to have retired, but still many are celebrating - it is a royal wedding after all. Kastor, for his part, disappeared with his new wife some hours ago and to much whistling.

“Damianos,” Laurent replies.

Damen grins at him. His curls are falling in front of his face, almost obscuring one eye and Laurent fights the urge to brush it back. “You have been a beacon to me all night,” he says. “I have never regretted my duties so much as I do that they’ve taken me from you.”

Laurent doesn’t know what to say to that. Damen has the manner of a man sober enough to walk but drunk enough to spill all his secrets. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Damen says. “I was looking forward to meeting you again,” he continues, “because Makedon has been praising your intelligence and heart for years and I thought perhaps - I remember you advising me, all those years ago, before Marlas, and I thought to make you an advisor of thoughts. Now I have seen you, and you have grown and I am having a very hard time thinking straight.”

“You are drunk,” Laurent says, trying not to look too amused.

“I am,” Damen agrees. “We keep catching eyes across the room and my thoughts are filled with only you. I want to touch your hair. I want to rest my head upon your shoulder until our lungs have matched breath for breath and my head is filled with only thoughts of you.”

Laurent has never been so aware of the weakness he has for sweetly spoken words. He closes his eyes. “You only really met me yesterday,” Laurent tells him. “I could disappear after tonight and you would hardly think of me again.”

“I don’t believe that,” Damen says. “Will you break fast with me tomorrow?”

“Will you be awake and well enough to eat?”

“My desire to see you will sustain me through any trial.”

Laurent opens his eyes. Damen is grinning at him. He laughs. “Okay,” Laurent says. “I will see you in the morning then.”

Damen comes for breakfast the next morning, looking endearingly worse for wear, and then he continues coming for breakfast for the next week. They spend a lot of time together, probably more than Damen should allow considering his duties, and Laurent finds himself growing attached to the feeling of basking in Damen’s attention.

They go riding some days, or they spar - and the way Damen’s eyes had darkened when he’d realised just how good Laurent was will be seared into his mind forever - or they sit in the gardens and discuss Laurent’s latest book or gossip at court, or the weather and whatever else crosses their minds.

One day, Damen picks a bright, round fruit from a tree and hands it to him. “Have you had one before?” Damen asks, sounding affectionately amused by Laurent’s expression.

“No,” he says. “What is it?”

“A pomegranate.”

“How do I eat it?”

Damen smiles, and gets a knife and shows Laurent how to cut into the fruit, spilling out hundreds of glistening red seeds. They sit in the grass together, protected by the shade of the trees and eat the fruit together. It’s such a simple thing to do that Laurent feels warm with the easy companionship they’ve built.

Laurent finishes eating and he looks up to Damen’s red stained mouth, and then to his own hands, dripping with juice. “You’ve made a mess of me,” Laurent says.

Damen grins, and Laurent is struck with a helpless urge. He leans forward and kisses the stains away from Damen’s mouth. Damen, for his part, makes a surprised sound and then meets his kiss with the same delicacy that Laurent has given him.

They spend the afternoon trading kisses after that, and Damen is just as sweet and consuming in the task as Laurent has fantasised he might be. At one point, Damen takes Laurents hands and kisses away the remaining juice at his fingertips and after that Laurent finds himself in Damen’s lap, opening his mouth and wishing that the gentle afternoon never ends.

It is three days before his departure back to Sicyon that Laurent allows Damen to take him apart slowly in his bed. It’s both gentle and hot, and miles better than anything Laurent had allowed himself to think it might be. Damen holds his hands when he fucks him and looks into his eyes and whispers sweet things across his collarbones. Laurent adores the way Damen seems to lose himself at the end - succumbing to his own overwhelming passion.

“Makedon is returning to Sicyon soon,” Damen says, running his hands idly across Laurent’s skin as the dawn light breaks upon them. “Will you go with him?”

Laurent looks at Damen, and the soft vulnerability on his face. Sometimes, he can barely remember what it was like to be a Prince, and thinks that maybe he imagined it - his identity as the bastard Veretian, Makedon’s adopted son, has subsumed him entirely. But there’s something about Damen - a warmth that envelopes Laurent and makes him feel safe, that reminds him of being a child and climbing trees too tall for him, and trusting Auguste below, always ready to catch him.

He knows the situation with Damen, this affair, is not secure - eventually Damen will wed and have children and not have time to remember his dalliance with an ex-Veretian bastard, but his heart feels safe beyond reason. He wants to stay, he realises.

“But there are so many things I want to do with you,” Laurent says, and Damen takes him back into his arms and kisses him until he can’t even remember his own name.

Six

It is odd to stay at the palace in Ios, with no real role but as Damen’s guest. Laurent is free to do what he wants when he wants, but he has no real duties. Sometimes Damen will discuss his day with Laurent, tell him of the issues the realm is having and listen patiently when Laurent offers potential solutions.

“How do you know all this?” Damen asks.

“I read,” Laurent says, and he pretends that all this knowledge - of roads and taxes and crops - wasn’t originally intended for Auguste.

Damen introduces him to his closest friend, Nikandros, and his most promising soldiers. He has Laurent sit next to him at dinners and brings him gifts of weapons and clothes and then a finely bred horse.

At dinner one day, Kastor looks between Laurent and Damen and says, “Brother, you’re smitten.” Damen just smiles and kisses Laurent’s palm and makes no move to deny it.

Weeks turn to months and Laurent is writing hasty letters to his worried mother, assuring her he’ll come home soon, but he can’t decide when soon will be. The thing is, the thing that Laurent had not prepared himself for, is that he feels quite unwell at the thought of leaving Damen and losing what they have.

One evening, at the climax, Damen loses himself and whispers words of love into Laurent’s neck, and it’s all Laurent can do to cling him tighter. He doesn’t know if he wants to cry or to murmur such assurances back. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Everything about Damen is completely unexpected.

“Here,” Damen says, one morning, coming back to their room - his room - with letters. “Your mother is an avid writer.”

Laurent takes the letter from his hands and rips into it. “She’s worried you’ve kidnapped me and locked me in a tower.”

“Ah,” Damen says, climbing back into the bed. “I’ll be sure to send a lock of your hair with my next ransom letter.”

Laurent laughs, eyes skimming over the page. It’s the same as usual - she’s doing fine and Makedon is fine, and she misses and loves him. It’s up to you if you want to stay, she writes, as she does in every letter, but know you can come home at any time, my little star.

Laurent smiles, and looks up, to where Damen is reading his own letter. The seal on it is shockingly familiar.

“What is that?” Laurent asks, just too sharp to be casual.

Damen gives Laurent an amused look. “A letter from King Auguste,” he says. “We are something like friends, now.” Damen remembers Laurent asking about Auguste as a child - he thinks Laurent has a hero worship for his old King and finds it endearing. Technically, Laurent supposes, he’s not entirely wrong.

“What news does he bring?” Laurent asks.

Damen smiles. “If you are using me to get close to the King of Vere,” he says, “I will be heartbroken.”

Laurent kisses him, quickly. “Please, I can use my own charm to get to royalty, thank you.”

“That you can.” Damen chases the kiss for a few moments before he turns back to the letter. “Auguste has written to inform me that - oh!”

“What is it?”

“He’s getting married.”

“To who?”

Damen’s face makes a complicated expression and then he starts laughing. “To my fiancee,” Damen says, when he finally gets a hold of himself. He hands Laurent the letter.

The words, in Auguste’s looping handwriting is the closest Laurent has been to his brother in years. He finds himself greedily reading over the words.

Jokaste asks me to tell you, Auguste has written, that technically your offer to make her a queen has been fulfilled, if not in the way you intended. She wants to assure you that she’ll still make good on your deal.

“What deal?” Laurent asks. He can vaguely remember Jokaste, a beautiful woman who had appeared briefly in Sicyon after Marlas.

“Ah,” Damen says. He seems to hesitate slightly before he continues. “It is a secret. When we made the treaty, Auguste confided in me his concerns about his Uncle. I agreed to marry Jokaste in exchange for her going to Vere and assisting Auguste against any treachery. I didn’t expect it to take so long, but apparently the man is difficult to catch.”

Laurent is silent for so long that Damen starts to look concerned. “Laurent?”

“You offered to marry someone, so that they would help your enemy of decades?”

“Vere is my ally now.”

“He was barely an ally at the time you sent that woman over!”

“Are you mad at me for it?” Damen asks, with the delicacy of someone who is completely out of their depth.

“No!” Laurent says. He doesn’t want to think of it now, but he hadn’t even considered the idea that his uncle would strike out against Auguste. He’s always thought of his Uncle’s desires as distinctly un-Kingly.

“You sound upset.”

“I’m not,” Laurent says. “I just… you’re so kind and good sometimes that it’s hard to comprehend.”

“I did what was right. Anyone would have done it.”

“They really wouldn’t have,” Laurent replies. He looks at Damen, and the way he’s leaning towards him, earnestly concerned by Laurent’s outburst of emotion. “I love you,” Laurent says, helplessly.

“Oh,” Damen says, softly.

“I love you so much I can hardly breathe with it.”

“Are you crying?”

“No,” Laurent says, even though he very clearly is. “Hold me.”

Damen needs no more than that to bundle Laurent against his chest and tightly wraps his arms around him. “Are you okay?” Damen says, after a long moment.

“Yes,” Laurent says. “I’m just feeling a lot of things right now.”

“Okay,” Damen says, and then he’s stroking Laurent’s hair gently. There’s a long pause, and then Damen speaks again. “I love you too.”

“I know.”

“Good,” Damen says. “Good.”

Seven

The issue with promising himself to Jokaste all those years ago, Damen knows, is that it gave him an image of what his future would be and he hasn’t strayed much against it. Now that she’s engaged to Auguste, Damen suddenly has options that he hasn’t even considered.

He won’t pretend that his relationship with Laurent hasn’t been an issue. He’s been spending the last weeks trying to decide whether asking Laurent to be his official mistress of sorts would offend him or not. And he loves Laurent more than he would a mistress, he thinks. Laurent is fire and ice, the sweetness of pomegranate seeds followed by a sharp tang. He loves the contradictions that make up his lover and he’s been lost on what to do about it.

Laurent is different after the outburst with the letters. Or he is the same, but the intensity has changed. He tells Damen a lot more about his thoughts and his feelings, confides his worries about his mother’s happiness, and the feeling of otherness he gets sometimes, the way he doesn’t fully identify as Veretian or Akielon.

He sits down with Damen some nights, and they stay up together, poring over pages and plans and issues that people are having and coming up with solutions together. It is on one such night that Damen realises that his relationship with Laurent has evolved from lovers to partners - equals, even.

He goes to Kastor first.

Damen and Kastor have an odd relationship. They are siblings, but half siblings, and so everything that should be Kastor’s by right is age is actually Damen’s by right of legitimacy. He knows this causes tension between them, Nikandros has advised Damen to be wary of it enough times. But there’s also an imbalance that they share - as if they both want something out of each other that they’re not getting. Damen doesn’t know what exactly Kastor wants from him, he wishes he did so he could give it, but all he wants from his brother is exactly that - a brother.

He visits Kastor in his chambers one afternoon, while Kastor’s new wife is off making friends or strolling the gardens or doing whatever it is that Princesses without a lot of duties do to fill their time. Kastor seems happier married, as if all he has ever really wanted is a single person that could be his own and nobody else’s.

“What can I do for you, brother?” Kastor asks. Damen pours wine for them both, after having sent the slaves away. Damen has been sending slaves away a lot lately, even from simple tasks like serving his refreshments. He doesn’t know why, except that Laurent tends to look uncomfortable around them and it is Damen’s greatest wish to see Laurent at ease and happy in the life they’re slowly building around each other.

“Kastor,” Damen says, and because he is trying to be more open, more explicitly honest with himself and others, he says: “I know we haven’t always gotten along well, but you are one of the dearest people in my life and when I find myself in moments of indecision, it’s always you who I long to speak to.”

Kastor is quite neatly stunned into silence.

“I wondered if I could ask your advice on something,” Damen continues.

“Alright,” Kastor says, slowly. “What is it?”

“I am in love with Laurent,” he says. “I cannot bear even the thought of spending a day without him.”

Kastor snorts. “Yes, I think everyone is well aware of that. You wear your heart like you do your lion pin.”

“I want to marry him,” Damen says. “What do you think?”

Kastor is quiet for a long moment. “What of your mystery woman? The one you tossed Aleta aside for?” Aleta who was now Kastor’s wife.

“It didn’t work out,” Damen says, and then he smiles ruefully. “She found someone better.”

Kastor scoffs. “Alright then. What do you want my opinion for?”

“Do you think I’ll be able to convince father?”

“No,” Kastor says, immediately. “I don’t think father will be happy for you to only have bastards for heirs.” Damen can hear the bitterness in his brother’s voice, and he feels a pang of something. Regret perhaps, that he was born the legitimate one, but not quite because he doesn’t think he could give up being King.

Damen takes a breath. “I’ve thought of that,” he says, carefully. “My heir wouldn’t be a bastard if they were…”

“What?” Kastor says.

“If they were your future child,” he rushes, “with Aleta. If you’d consider that?”

Once again, he has shocked Kastor into silence. Kastor is giving him a look as if he has never truly seen Damen before. “You would put my child on the throne?” Kastor says, doubtfully.

Damen sits back. “Of course. It will be your child, our blood.”

“I won’t have you call my son your heir only to change your mind when you get your first bastard.”

“I won’t have any,” Damen says. “I don’t… I can’t even think of anyone but Laurent. I don’t want mistresses or slaves or lovers on the side. I only want him.”

Kastor sighs.

“Tell me what you think of this,” Damen says, “honestly, please.”

“It’s insane,” Kastor says. “It will take a lot to convince father, I’m not entirely positive that that’s even possible. What will you do if he disagrees?”

“I’ll keep Laurent as my lover,” Damen says, “and no-one else. Even if we don’t marry, I won’t leave him.”

Kastor laughs, suddenly. “Do you remember,” he says, “when we were young, and you got it in your head that only the highest flower from my Mother’s garden would be good enough to give her on her birthday?”

“Yes,” Damen says. He had loved Hypermenestra like a mother, when he’d been younger, and she had loved him by virtue of being the son of the two people she loved. Her funeral had been one of the few days that he and Kastor had felt truly close. He remembers his brother’s arm across his shoulder when they took the long walk at dawn.

“You were as stubborn then as you are now,” Kastor says. “I’ll support you when you take this to father.”

“Absolutely not,” Theomedes says. He looks at Kastor. “You can’t possibly agree with your brother’s madness.”

Kastor shrugs. “When Damen was nineteen,” Kastor says, “he secured us both Delpha and what has become our most profitable alliance, in the space of a day. I trust his judgement.”

Theomedes scowls, “He is Veretian.”

“He is Makedon’s son,” Kastor says, “and it’s not like he’ll be spitting out heirs.”

The King looks to Damen. “How did you convince your brother of this?”

“Love,” Damen says. “I love Laurent, and I want him to be a part of our family. Like you loved my mother and Nessa.”

“When I am gone,” Theomedes says, to Kastor, “you’ll be in charge of saving him from his own sentimentality.”

“I’ll try my best,” Kastor agrees.

“Fine,” Theomedes says, then he waves a hand to declare the matter over. “Do what you want. I won’t pretend either of you have listened to me since you children.”

It’s just joking enough to make Damen smile. “Thank you, father,” he says, sharing a grin with Kastor.

The next step, is the most daunting of all: asking Laurent.

The issue is that Laurent is unpredictable and so it is impossible to make a plan for when to do it. They’ll go riding together to a nice lake and Damen will open his mouth but then Laurent is prodding his horse into a gallop and Damen will be too busy racing his lover back to the palace to ask. And then when the time is right, he gets nervous. He knows Laurent didn’t enter into this arrangement with the intention of marriage. It hadn’t been on the table at all. Perhaps Laurent doesn’t want that, and he is still young, nineteen soon, and maybe he should wait.

Kastor raises an eyebrow at Damen over dinner, when Damen gets caught up staring at Laurent, and flicks an olive at him.

Coward, Kastor mouths at him, and then he laughs when Damen kicks him under the table and their father rolls his eyes.

Pallas is something of a rising star in the army. He’s young and handsome and very skilled. Damen likes sparring with him, because other than Nikandros and Laurent, there aren’t many people that keep him on his toes when it comes to fighting.

“His left side is weak,” Laurent calls, from outside the ring. “Go low, Pallas.”

“Laurent!” Damen says, disarming Pallas before he can act on Laurent’s advice and turning a betrayed look to his lover.

Laurent grins, unrepentant, and the soldiers who were also watching the fight laugh. Damen can’t help but feel a burst of happiness at the way that Laurent has determinedly snuck his way into the good graces of his men.

“My left side isn’t weak,” Damen says, stepping out of the ring to approach Laurent.

“Ah, I must have imagined you falling off your horse yesterday then, trying to best me.”

“It’ll take more than that to hurt me,” Damen says, “and it’s your fault for being so distracting.”

“Good,” Laurent says, and his smile turns more intimate the closer Damen gets to him. They’re nose to nose now. “Let me distract you further. I’m bored, take me to bed.”

Laurent presses a kiss against his mouth, and then turns and runs before Damen can grab him. The men that bore witness to this are laughing and whistling. Damen knows they enjoy this, hints of their Crown Prince’s virility. He also knows that Laurent mostly does things like this for a reason other than just bedplay. Still, Damen is helpless but to follow. He grins at the men.

“Soldiers,” he says, “if you’ll excuse me.” And then he’s off, caught up in the chase for a prize far sweeter than he deserves.

“What do your slaves do,” Laurent asks, “when you’re not using them?”

Damen frowns, pauses in stroking Laurent’s hair. He should get up and light a candle soon; they’ve spent the whole afternoon in bed and it’ll be dark soon. He’s pretty sure they’ve missed dinner, but noone came to get them so it should be fine.

“I don’t know,” Damen says. “Some of them play instruments, I think?”

“Hmm,” Laurent says. “Are they allowed to leave the castle?”

“I suppose,” Damen replies, “if they want to.”

“But what if you call for one and they’re not here?”

“That’s never happened.”

“So they mustn't leave the castle then,” Laurent reasons. “They must always be waiting for you, just in case you want them.”

“Is that why they make you uncomfortable?”

“Have you stopped using them because they make me uncomfortable?”

“Yes,” Damen replies, honest. Sometimes Laurent plunges him into conversations that he doesn’t know how to navigate, like this one.

Laurent is quiet for a moment. “They make me uncomfortable,” he says, “because they are trained as children that their purpose is life is to be chosen by powerful men and to be fucked by them.”

“It’s not…” Damen begins, but then he stops. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. “It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad,” Laurent says. “Even the word - slave - is bad. It tells you that they have no will of their own. They are property before they are people. That isn’t right.”

Damen frowns. “They aren’t - we don’t force them. They are treated with honour.”

“I think,” Laurent says, and the way he speaks - each word clearly enunciated - let’s Damen know that Laurent has been leading the conversation to get them here: wherever here is. “That I am more qualified to speak of this then you.”

“What do you mean?”

There’s something very specific in the way Laurent holds himself. Tense, but in the guise of being comfortable, relaxed. “When I was younger,” he says, “someone took advantage of me. He had a way of speaking that made me believe it was okay, at the time. It was brainwashing of a sort. When I see your slaves, I think of them as youths - being convinced that their highest purpose is to let some stranger own them and do what he likes with them.”

Damen is quiet for a long time. “Was it,” he says, “one of Makedon’s soldiers?”

“No,” Laurent says. “No, it was before then. I was not a virgin when you first met me.”

“You were barely fourteen when I first met you.”

“I know,” Laurent says. He’s looking at Damen carefully. “...Are you okay?”

“Are you?!”

“Yes,” Laurent says. “It was a long time ago, and my mother found out before long. She went to great lengths to get me away from… the situation. And we spoke of it in the years after and she made sure I knew that it wasn’t my fault.”

Damen is suddenly profoundly grateful to Laurent’s mother. He thinks if he met her now he might cry. “Alright,” Damen says.

“You look very tense.”

“I’m thinking,” Damen replies.

“Okay,” Laurent says, awkwardly. He sits up, taking his head away from its resting place in Damen’s lap. “Do you want me to go?”

“No!” Damen says. “No, I just. I’m trying to-” he closes his eyes. “I can’t do much about it now,” he says. “I am not King yet and it will be a long process when I am. But I’ll get it done.”

“Get what done?” Laurent asks, quietly.

Damen looks at him. Laurent looks gentler like this, only sheets to cover him and watching Damen uncertainly. They aren’t touching anymore and Damen can’t have that, so he takes Laurent’s hand. “Outlawing slavery,” he says.

“Oh,” Laurent breathes. “That wasn’t my intention, in this conversation.”

“What was your intention?”

“I just,” Laurent hesitates and then tightens his grip on Damen’s hand. “I wanted you to know about that. You’re not very subtle, I know you’ve been considering a greater level of commitment between us and I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind. If that’s something that would make you change your mind.”

“Laurent,” Damen says, opening his arms and feeling blessed when Laurent immediately folds himself into them. “You are the other half of my soul. The only thing that could stop me from wanting to marry you is if you did not want that yourself.”

“Oh,” Laurent says, into his collarbone. “What about your father?”

“He gave his blessing. So did Kastor. Now we just need to convince Makedon and your mother.”

He can feel Laurent smile. “Makedon will agree,” he says. “My mother will be difficult, but she wants me to be happy. I can convince her.”

And then Laurent looks up at him, smiling and it is impossible not to smile back.

The plan is to go to Sicyon to get Makedon and Henrietta’s blessing, and then Damen will get a ship to take him to Arles for Auguste and Jokaste’s wedding.

Laurent is lost in thought for a couple of days after the plan is made, and then he comes to Damen one night.

“I think,” Laurent says, “that I would like to come to Arles with you.”

“Okay,” Damen says. He hadn’t wanted to pressure Laurent to return to a country full of bad memories, but he is very glad that he won’t be alone there. “Makedon has shown interest in coming as well,” he tells him.

Laurent nods, “Well, someone will have to remind him what tact is.”

Realistically, Damen is a prince and doesn’t actually need his subject’s approval to marry, but Damen respects Makedon, and also when he was a child he once saw Makedon throw a spear to perfectly take down a boar from a great distance and that kind of awe-based fear hasn’t left him.

“Do you want me to come with you,” Kastor offers, wryly, “and hold your hand?”

Damen laughs and knocks shoulders with him. His relationship with Kastor has been repairing itself slowly, into something mutually caring and Damen is hopeful that it will continue for many years to come. He knows he will eventually thrive as a King if he is surrounded by the people he loves.

They take a longer route to Sicyon, so that Damen can show Laurent around and introduce him to some of the Kyros. It’ll be good to win their favour before the announcement of their engagement is made.

Laurent takes to politics like he was born for it - he’s polite and charming, and he treats everyone as if their opinions are important to him. Damen is awed by easy grace.

“What?” Laurent says, when he catches Damen staring at him.

“Nothing,” Damen says, and then amends, “Everytime I see a new side of you, I am overjoyed that there is something else about you to love. I can’t wait for the privilege of learning everything there is of you for the next few decades.”

Laurent goes wide-eyed and red cheeked at that. “I’d thank you not to say things like that where I cannot properly react,” Laurent says. And then he spends the rest of the evening running his hand up and down Damen’s thigh, under the table, as retribution.

Makedon and Henrietta are waiting outside their home when Laurent and Damen arrive, and Damen finally gets his first glimpse at Laurent’s mother.

Makedon greets Damen properly, but Henrietta doesn’t stop to kneel before she’s throwing her arms around Laurent and kissing his face with great affection. Honestly, Damen can’t blame her. He’d do the same if he were seperated from Laurent for so long.

“Mother,” Laurent says in Veretian, more affectionate than chastising. “Please let me introduce you to Damen.”

Henrietta pulls back from her son, to turn to Damen. She curtsies primly. “Your highness,” she says, in a distinctly Veretian way. She is tall for a woman and as golden and pale as Laurent. Even though she must be close to fifty, she is still radiantly beautiful and poised. Damen feels a spasm of excitement at the thought of getting to see Laurent age such as gracefully.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Henrietta,” Damen says, and he knows he’s grinning like an idiot but he can’t help it.

She looks a little taken back by his overt friendliness, and then she casts a glance at Laurent, who is watching Damen fondly. “Ah,” she says. “I see.” She doesn’t look pleased.

Laurent suddenly looking concerned. “Mother, let’s leave Makedon and Damianos to talk.”

She nods warily and lets Laurent lead her away.

“So,” Makedon says, clapping Damen on the back. “I think it’s time for a friendly duel.”

Makedon never refers to anything as friendly. Damen can’t help the way his heart rate speeds up as a danger response.

They go three bouts before Makedon lets Damen rest, and then they sit down silently for a long moment.

“I love that boy like he’s my own blood,” Makedon says, finally. “Veretians. Who would have fucking thought?”

Damen can’t help but laugh. “I know,” he says. “I wasn’t prepared for it either. Laurent is… truly exceptional.”

“I have an army,” Makedon says, casually.

“I won’t hurt him,” Damen says. “I want to spend the rest of my life making him smile.”

“Good man.” Makedon looks up to his home, where Laurent and his mother disappeared to. “They’re both very headstrong,” he says, “but I think they’ll have stopped arguing about you by now. Let’s go in and see what the consensus is.”

Henrietta seems to sway between pleased and upset during the entire evening, but she accepts their engagement. At dinner, Makedon calls for a round of griva to celebrate, and when Henrietta, Makedon, and Laurent all manage to knock back their cups without a grimace, Damen is pretty sure his heart stops a little. He’s going to be King one day, and yet he has the oddly distinct feeling that he’s the one who’s marrying above their station.

She catches Damen alone a couple of days later, when Laurent and Makedon have mysteriously vanished for the morning.

“Just because you are royalty,” she says, “doesn’t mean you intimidate me.”

They’re standing outside, by the stables. Damen knows he’ll get his first glimpse of Laurent returning from here, and he likes being outdoors. “I don’t want to intimidate you at all,” Damen replies, honestly.

Henrietta sighs. “Laurent trusts you,” she says, “and I know he has a hard time trusting. It took him years to warm up to Makedon. I used to despair that he’d set himself aside forever, always alone, and now I despair that you’re the one he’s chosen.”

“It displeases you that I am a prince?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’ve seen royal courts before. They are filled with deceit and jealousy and terrible things that I never wanted Laurent to be exposed to again. What will you do when your Kyros refuse to accept him? Or your father changes his mind? Or your alliance with Vere falls apart and your people hate him for who he is?”

Damen sighs. “I know it won’t be easy, but Laurent is worth the possibility of facing these things. I know we’ll face them together and we’ll overcome what we must.” Damen looks out to the distance, ever hopeful he will see a speck on the horizon that heralds Laurent’s return. “If I tell you that I’ll choose Laurent over my Kingdom, you won’t believe me - why should you? But for as long as Laurent wants me, I will be his. Like you said, he trusts me. That’s enough.”

Henrietta looks away. “He is my truest love,” she says. “Take care of him.”

Eight

The journey to Arles is uneventful, and Laurent is grateful for that. He doesn’t know what he’s doing exactly, deciding to go back. Part of him is certain that no one will recognise him. The other part of him, the more realistic part, has packed a scarf that Aleta taught him to wrap around his head in the Patran style - which will be enough to cover his hair, at least. His golden hair is long enough to touch the small of his back now, he’s been growing it ever since he heard of Auguste shaving his own head. When they arrive in Arles, Laurent allows his horse to fall back a little, enough that he won’t draw anyone’s attention, and he drops his head and stands shyly behind Makedon.

Makedon gives him a curious look but allows it, and Damen, who is beautiful, sweet and dearly beloved, draws no attention to it, even though Laurent knows he’s noticed.

His heart speeds up when men arrive to meet them, but Auguste is not among them. He sends his apologies, but he’s been caught up in something. They’re led to their rooms. Damen, as the only visiting royalty there for the wedding, is given what was Auguste’s old room. On the way, they pass where Laurent’s old chambers had been, except they’ve been rebuilt since the fire his mother set and are no longer bed quarters.

“It’s a library,” Laurent says, in confusion.

“Yes,” Damen gives him an odd look. “You’ve seen those before.”

They have barely had long enough to get settled, when there’s a knock at the door, and two women are being let into the room.

One of them is a mousy looking woman that Laurent has never seen before, and the other is unmistakably Jokaste.

“Damianos!” she says, smiling. “Finally.”

She is stunning, Laurent thinks. Her blonde hair is a little darker than his, and styled elegantly atop her head. Her dress looks to be an odd mix between Veretian and Akielon, definitely custom made and it suits her perfectly. Laurent feels an odd stab of envy, at the seamless way she appears to have slipped into her life as someone not quite Akielon and not quite Veretian.

Damen stands and grins at her, when she kisses his cheek and beams at him.

“Jokaste,” he says, “You are as lovely as I remember. I’d like you to meet Laurent, Makedon’s son.”

Jokaste turns to him. “Oh yes,” she says, “I’ve heard rumours about your lover even in Arles. Hello, Laurent.”

Then she gets a good look at him and takes a step back. “Ah,” she says, and then she’s frowning. “You have an aristocratic nose,” she says. “Almost like royalty.”

“So I’m told,” Laurent says.

“Who’s your friend?” Damen asks, gesturing to the mousy woman who is standing in the corner, ignoring them.

“My escort,” she replies, but she’s still looking at Laurent. “The fear of bastards is still alive and well in Vere, despite King Auguste’s efforts to change that. Have you been to Arles before, Laurent? You are Veretian, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes,” Laurent says. “I was here as a child. I don’t remember much.”

“I’ll have to introduce you to Auguste then,” she says. “Perhaps he can jog your memory.”

“Perhaps,” Laurent says.

“I’ve heard rumours that you have lovely hair. Why the scarf?”

Damen is watching them a little like how one watches a sports match that they haven’t figured out the rules of.

“You don’t need to see my hair, do you?” Laurent says.

“I suppose not,” she says. She considers Laurent for a long moment before she says, very delicately. “I’ll introduce you to Auguste in two days. If you don’t find a chance to do it before then.”

“Thank you,” Laurent replies, just as precisely.

“Well,” Jokaste says. “I better go. Weddings take a lot of time. I’m sure you two will find that out for yourselves soon. It’s wonderful to see you again, Damen. And to meet you, Laurent.”

“Goodbye?” Damen says, watching her sweep out the door as quickly as she’d come in.

“That was odd, wasn’t it?” Damen asks, when she’s gone.

“Was it?” Laurent replies, “I didn’t notice.”

Obviously, Laurent has underestimated his resemblance to his brother, but he’s not sure if that will be noticed by anyone but Jokaste, who seems sharper than most people. Regardless, she’s given Laurent two days to go to Auguste, and that means he has to decide his approach.

He spends the first day in the shadows. He’s been long gone from the palace, but he remembers the hidden nooks and barely used passageways as if he never left. He overhears enough conversations to learn that the people seem generally pleased with Auguste’s rule - he appears to be just a fair and intelligent as Laurent has always known him to be.

Laurent begs off of the lunch that Damen goes to, and takes that time to sit on their bed, and leaf through the only book he brought with him. The Veretian fairytales look a little worse for wear, due to the book’s age and how often he’s gone through it, but it’s still beautiful and the only thing he has from his life as a prince.

To be perfectly honest, Laurent is terrified. He knows that it’s time to reveal himself to Auguste, past time really, and Laurent is filled with the boyish hope the Auguste will recognise him instantly and take him into his arms like when he was a child and maybe they can both finally heal the last of their wounds together.

But he’s also afraid. Just because Jokaste has seen the resemblance, doesn’t mean Auguste will, or that he’ll believe Laurent. The only thing he doesn’t fear is Damen finding out. His lover has proven thoughtful and resilient to every personal truth that Laurent has thrown him, and at least that is something Laurent can be secure in. Being a Prince is hardly the worst fact about Laurent.

Damen ducks his head into the room after lunch. He doesn’t suspect who Laurent is, but he’s a perceptive man and he knows there’s something odd about Laurent being here in Arles.

“Auguste is having an audience with his people,” Damen says. “There’s a balcony that we can watch at from above, and I don’t think anyone will notice us. If you want.”

Laurent smiles, snapping the book shut and getting up to follow him.

He knows exactly the place that Damen means, because it’s where he used to watch his father rule as a child. The balconies area is built for members of royalty and nobility to come and go as they please, without drawing attention to themselves. Damen has access because he is a Prince and he brings Laurent with him.

This is where Laurent gets to finally get his first glimpse of Auguste, fully grown into his place as a king.

“He’s wearing black,” Laurent says, frowning.

“Yes,” Damen agrees. “From what I’ve heard, he’s kept his hair short and his clothing black since the death of his family. Six years of mourning, it hardly bears thinking about.”

Laurent is silently then, looking down at his brother. Auguste is handsome in the way all golden Prince’s should be, even with his closely shorn hair and the severity of his jacket. Beside him, sits Jokaste, resplendent in a light blue gown. They suit each other, side by side, a fairytale image of royalty.

Laurent finds himself clutching at Damen’s arm.

“Laurent?” Damen murmurs, concerned.

Laurent shakes his head. For the first time in years, Laurent allows himself to think of his uncle. His uncle who, according to Damen, is a danger to Auguste’s throne. If the man wants to overthrow Auguste, then surely he sees the danger that is this wedding. It won’t be long before Jokaste starts giving birth to heirs and Regnier will fall further from the line.

Perhaps Jokaste thinks she has these things in hand, but she has been fighting against Laurent’s uncle for the last six years without triumph. Laurent cannot reveal himself to Auguste, not yet, when Auguste still isn’t safe. He cannot risk it until their uncle is out of the picture for good.

“Damen,” Laurent says, quietly. “Do you know if the King’s uncle is here for the wedding?”

“He is,” Damen says, cautiously.

Laurent nods, because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to speak. He can hear blood rushing in his ears, and he feels suddenly cold. He knows what he has to do. Laurent is going to murder his uncle.

Nine.

While Damen is off at dinner with Auguste, Laurent sits in their rooms and thinks. His uncle is too intelligent to ever be outwardly caught at wrong-doing, and thus he cannot be punished or brought to justice. Auguste, who is loving to a fault, mustn’t be willing to take out their uncle without proof and perhaps part of him is reluctant to kill what he thinks is his last family member.

Jokaste, in her part as the future queen, is unable to directly make a move without threatening her position in court. There is no one but Laurent who is sure enough and willing enough to kill his uncle and thus the tasks falls to him. He will not leave Auguste behind, defenseless, again.

Laurent tucks a knife into his sleeve, and then takes it back out. He needs to do this tonight, he thinks, while he’s still certain that it’s the right course of action. Before he can see Damen again or Makedon and rue the fact that he probably won’t get away with this. If his uncle’s guards get to him, and kill him, he hopes Jokaste will be wise enough to let his true identity go unnoticed.

Laurent takes a deep breath. He knows where his uncle’s rooms are - as much as he wishes he didn’t - and hopes that they haven’t moved. He unwraps his hair from the headscarf slowly, and then undoes his braid.

Laurent takes off his jacket, so that he is only in his flowing white undershirt and trousers, and then, after some consideration, takes off his boots as well. Barefoot and with his hair obscuring his face, he looks vulnerable. Not young enough to be of his Uncle’s tastes, but hopefully whoever is guarding his Uncle’s room won’t be aware of that. If Laurent crosses his arms, he can obscure the knife in his sleeve.

Laurent looks at himself in the mirror for a very long moment and then he leaves.

“Who are you?” The guard asks, leaning lazily against the door of his uncle’s rooms and looking nothing at all how a royal guard should.

“I was told,” Laurent says, quietly, shyly, “to come here.”

“I think you’re early, kid.”

Dinner mustn’t be finished yet. “I can wait,” Laurent says.

“Sure,” The guard shrugs. “Go ahead.”

If Laurent survives this, he’s going to get this guard fired, he thinks. Then the door is opening and Laurent and stepping into the room, and, ah.

So, that’s why the guard didn’t seem bothered.

In the room, as expected, is Laurent’s uncle, looking perhaps a little older, but still every inch the man Laurent remembers from the worst of his nightmares.

Sitting across from him, on a seperate couch, is Damen and Makedon.

Well, fuck.

The three men all look up at Laurent, and Laurent can see that shock of recognition that crosses his uncle’s features.

Laurent doesn’t know what his own expression is doing, but Damen is already stepping towards him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Laurent shakes his head. “I didn’t realise you’d be here,” he says, honestly. “I’m sorry.” He can’t let this change anything. He moves towards his uncle, and away from Damen. This is the only time that he’ll have the element of surprise on his side. If he lives now or hesitates, his uncle will only have time to plot against him.

“Ah,” Uncle says, and he must know that Laurent is here to kill him, that no-one here is likely to help him, because when backed against a wall, his uncle will always try to shock people into stopping. His uncle looks at Laurent, looking vulnerable and hateful, and thinks he is too damaged, too ashamed to have told anyone about his childhood.

And so “Ah,” Uncle says. “If it isn’t my former bed boy.”

If Damen attacks his uncle, it will be catastrophic to the alliance. His uncle knows that Laurent cannot risk that, and so he forces Laurent to protect him. Damen moves towards his uncle and Laurent gets in front, drops his knife so that he can grab Damen’s arms and push him back.

“No,” Laurent says, “Damen, no.”

Damen moves to push past Laurent and then suddenly he stops.

Then there is a cut-off grunt of pain and Laurent turns to see Makedon, holding Laurent’s discarded knife, and his uncle clutching fruitlessly at the open wound in his neck. Makedon hit an artery, Laurent thinks distantly, judging by the way his uncle’s blood spurts before he is slumped over in death.

His uncle hadn’t known that Laurent was alive, and thus he couldn’t have known what Makedon - famous for hating Veretians - would do upon hearing his uncle speak of Laurent’s past like that. To be fair, it hadn’t even occurred to Laurent that he’d have to stop Makedon from lashing out.

“You killed him.” Laurent’s voice is choked.

“Yes,” Makedon says, calmly. There’s blood on his face and neck. He must have gotten caught in the spray.

“Good,” Damen says vehemently. He tries to turn Laurent away from the scene, but Laurent resists.

“No,” Laurent says. “This is - the alliance- Auguste cannot let something like this…” He’s having trouble breathing. The death of his uncle pales in comparison to the fact that Makedon cannot get away with this. Auguste will be forced to charge him. He’ll be executed.

“Give me the knife,” Laurent says. He holds out a hand. “I’ll say I did it, I’m Veretian - it’s what I came to do anyway.”

“No,” Makedon says. He wipes the blade on his chiton with the casualness of a man who has killed many times.

“Makedon.” Laurent wants to stomp his foot like a child in the face of Makedon’s idiotic stubbornness.

The night has to get worse though, of course it does. Before Laurent can reason with Makedon, the door opens and in steps, Auguste.

“Excuse my lateness,” Auguste says, closing the door behind him. Then he looks up and freezes at the sight of their uncle, gruesome in death. Auguste puts a hand to his sword and opens his mouth to call for the guard outside, and Laurent jumps forward.

“Auguste wait,” he says, desperately. This time, when Auguste freezes, it lasts for much longer.

“There’s an-” Damen begins, but Laurent cuts him off.

“Quiet, Damen,” he says. He takes a step towards his brother, slowly. “Auguste, I can explain.”

Auguste is blinking rapidly, his expression crumbling into a mixture of confusion and despair. “Laurent,” Auguste whispers his name like a prayer.

“I’m sorry,” Laurent says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave, but we had no choice.”

“Laurent,” Auguste says. “You’re alive.”

“I still have the book you gave me,” he tells him, desperately. “The fairytale one.”

“Laurent,” Auguste says, and then his legs seem to give up and Laurent has to dive forward to catch his brother, and they both fall to their knees together. “How are you alive?”

They’re both clutching at each other, kneeling. “I’m not a bastard,” Laurent tells him, “Mother would never - uncle sent that man that she killed in her rooms, but she knew what the rumours would do, she knew I wasn’t safe if people thought I was- I wanted to come back but we couldn’t- I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Laurent buries his head against Auguste’s shoulder, and Auguste clutches him with all the strength that Laurent remembers. He knows his tears are going to ruin his brother’s jacket, but he’s so damn relieved to be recognised and with him that he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Well,” Laurent hears Makedon say from somewhere behind him. “Fuck.”

Ten.

Sometime later, when the two Veretian prince’s have gotten something of a hold of themselves, Jokaste sweeps into the room. Damen watches her take in the scene - from Regnier, dead and bloodied on the couch, to Laurent and Auguste, holding each other on the floor, and then Makedon and Damen himself, standing awkwardly.

“Hmm,” she murmurs, closing the door behind her. “And here I had the poison all ready to go tomorrow. Admittedly, that wouldn’t have been quite as dramatic as this.”

Auguste looks up at the sound of her voice and seems to sway slightly in her direction. Even stupefied by discovering his long-dead brother, Auguste looks at her like a man in love. “Jo,” he says, and then by way of useless explanation, “Laurent.”

“Yes,” Jokaste says. “I saw him yesterday. You have the same nose.”

Auguste makes a betrayed noise, and Laurent speaks up from his shoulder. “She gave me to days to reveal myself to you, before she did.”

“Oh,” Auguste says.

“He’s to be my brother in law,” Jokaste explains. “I wanted him to like me.”

Damen sits down on the couch - the one Regnier didn’t bleed out on. He’s not sure he’s capable of actual words yet.

“What do we do?” Auguste asks his fiancee.

Jokaste sighs, and holds a hand out to Makedon. “Give me the knife.”

Laurent frowns when Makedon does.

“We can deal with the Laurent situation later,” Jokaste says, roughly pulling her hair half undone. “First we have to get away with murder.”

She grabs the hem of her dress and rips it violently. “Makedon, stand there,” she points next to Regnier, “that’ll explain away the blood. Damen, stand up. Laurent, Auguste, you too.”

They all do as there told. “Now then,” she says. “Regnier went mad with anger at getting further from the throne. He attacked me. You all witnessed it, and I had to kill him in defense of myself.” She turns to Auguste, “I’m suddenly very pleased with Veretian fashion, for making the neckline of my wedding dress so high.”

And then she drags the knife down her chest, blood welling, before Auguste can stop her. “Jokaste!” Auguste says, horrified.

“It won’t scar,” she says, scoffing. “Alright, everyone look suitably shocked and upset.”

Damen thought wistfully of Akielos, where trickery like this wasn’t necessary. Then Jokaste was screaming and guards were pouring into the room and Damen resigned himself to being very tired tomorrow.

“Well, that was something,” Laurent says, the next morning over breakfast.

Damen laughs, because he’s not really sure what else to do at this point.

“So mother is married to Makedon,” Auguste clarifies.

“Yes,” Laurent says. “She didn’t marry him until Father died. But then, she used a fake name, so I’m not sure where the marriage lies with legality.”

“Henrietta,” Makedon says, grabbing an apple. “What’s her real name?”

“Hennike,” Laurent and Auguste both say, in the same tone of voice.

“How didn’t I see this?” Damen asks Jokaste, and she pats his arm consolingly, as if he is a particularly slow child.

“You’re so tall,” Auguste says, grinning at Laurent, “but you’re still-”

“Shorter than you, yes, I know,” Laurent smiles. “We’ll see how smug you are when you see how fast my newest pony is.”

The brothers laugh together.

“I took war advice from an enemy Prince,” Damen says. “Before Marlas.”

Laurent grins. “It was good advice.”

“It was,” Damen agrees.

“I hope your wedding is a lot less dramatic,” Jokaste says, “or my heart won’t be able to take it.”

“It’ll be in Akielos,” Damen says. “Of course it will be less dramatic.”

Laurent keeps smiling. Damen thinks, he can come to terms with any surprises if Laurent keeps smiling like that, like the world is good and he is truly happy.

“What do we do now?” Auguste says, suddenly. “How do we explain Laurent to the people?”

“We don’t,” Laurent says, and Jokaste nods in agreement.

“But you’re a prince,” Auguste says.

“I’m marrying Damianos,” Laurent says. “I’ll still be royalty. And I’ll have plenty of reasons to come see you. I don’t care what the Kingdom thinks of me.”

Auguste nods. “If you’re sure,” he says, with the voice of a man that would do anything to please his brother.

“As long as you know who I am,” Laurent says.

“We should go south,” Jokaste says, “after the wedding, to take a break from court and get used to being married.”

“Yes,” Auguste says.

Jokaste looks to Makedon. “What do you think the weather Aquitart is like, this time of year?”

“Ha,” Makedon says. “Warm.”

“Wonderful. You should bring your wife.”

“Makedon,” Laurent says, “This makes you Auguste’s stepfather as well.”

While everyone is distracted by this train of thought, Laurent turns to Damen and leans into him gently. “Is this okay?” he asks, softly.

Damen grins at his lover, who is beautiful and brave and possibly the best man that he has ever met. “Yes,” Damen says. “Are you okay?”

And Laurent, Laurent’s smile is warm like the sunrise, and sweet like honey. “Never better.”

#captive prince #writing #lol i accidentally posted this from my main first try #rip me #anyway #sorry if bits of this are crap i uh wrote it so fast i dont actually remember a lot of it???#enjoy #the hennike lives au #long post #sorry to people on mobile

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