(no subject)

[cast_iron_bitch]

He was too aware of his pulse.

It was foolish, as a good many things Laurent had decided to let transpire tonight were foolish. Still, he assembled several bottles of wine, a plate of cheeses, a small assortment of meats, loaves of bread, and grapes. It was too much, but so too was Damen's appetite. He had placed a large carafe of water in the cold box to chill. He had dressed himself in a long sleeved shirt, a tie, removed the tie, and put it on again.

He should not have demanded this.

Laurent could count on one hand the number of times he had given up control in the last seven years. That any had had a happy ending was an affront to plausibility, but it hadn't escaped Laurent that each favorable time had been with one man. Yet each time had been the result of circumstance, the both of them caught in an escalating chain of deadly events and each doing their best to survive it. Never by Laurent's own hand, save for that night in the fort, that evening in the inn.

A heavy knock came at the door, rendered by an overlarge Akielon hand, and Laurent waited in silence while his heart climbed down from its perch in his throat. He went to the door and opened it. Damen was on the other side.

'I hope you don't expect a spectacle.'

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[princekiller]

Damen had managed to think of very little else since Laurent's declaration the night before. He nearly didn't know what to make of it, the weight of trust Laurent seemed to have in him. Not only was he choosing to engage in an activity that would almost certainly remove his tightly-held control, but he was choosing to engage in that activity in the presence of the man who had killed his brother. The man Laurent had spent years utterly despising.

Though he was quickly coming to suspect that there was more here. The statements Laurent had made regarding the alliance, this notion of Damen being possessive... It was becoming too much for him to not want to push for further clarification. Too much to ignore.

And so he knocked now at Laurent's door, clad in his usual pair of long shorts and a sleeveless shirt, hair drawn back away from his face as he'd learned to be in style. Dangling from two fingers of his right hand he carried a large glass container -- something called a growler -- of his favorite local brew. He smiled as Laurent opened the door, gaze catching on the tie that hung from his neck. Though another common style choice, Damen had not prepared to see it on Laurent, nor had he prepared for how alluring so simple a garment could be.

'Why wouldn't I?' he responded, attempting to wrestle the strange tangle of nerves under control. 'Veretians love their spectacle, don't they?' He held up the glass growler with a wider smile. 'I brought beer. Have you tried any since you're arrival?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Damen met his gaze and smiled, and Laurent ruthlessly refused to be charmed by it. He stepped back to allow Damen inside. 'Beer,' he said. 'No. But I have researched and every article agrees that I should not imbibe multiple forms of alcohol. You know more than I.'

Laurent referred to the small assembly on his counter. 'Shall I drink wine or beer? Or will there be any left?' he asked of the glass growler. 'That is barely the size of your arm.'

[princekiller]

'I wasn't certain what you'd have on hand,' Damen admitted as he stepped inside, noticing immediately the countertop full of various bottles of wine along with an assortment of meats, fruits, and cheeses. Laurent had clearly put a great deal of thought and effort into... loosening himself.

'Perhaps the beer is redundant,' he agreed, setting the growler amongst the bottles of wine all the same. 'I'll leave it with you to try later. If you don't like it, I'll be happy to return to take it off your hands.'

He stole a grape off the platter then and easily popped it into his mouth before flashing Laurent a warmer smile. 'Is there to be any sort of ceremony to this or shall we start filling up our glasses?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Laurent gazed at the ale. He was almost certain he would not like it, but it was a pleasing avenue by which Damen might return. He looked back at Damen who was in the midst of a joke at his expense.

'A ceremony, I think,' said Laurent, gazing very seriously at him. 'Please give a speech, and I will fetch the glasses.'

[princekiller]

Laurent cut him a look and Damen felt his lips twitch into a wider grin at his tone.

A laugh bubbled free a moment later and he grabbed a small handful of grapes for himself as Laurent gathered their glasses. He'd grown accustomed to Laurent's sharp tongue and tone in the past weeks, could recognize the sarcasm for what it was.

'You've caught me unprepared,' he said, his grin unwavering. 'And I'm far more suited for battle speeches than wine ceremonies anyway. Do you have anything you'd like to say before we get started? Any last kernels of wisdom or caveats?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'I don't know what wisdom I'm meant to have,' Laurent replied, but he reconsidered. 'Take the food to the table by the chaise,' he instructed as he opened the red wine. The bright color would be fetching on Damen's lips, and though he did not expect to become as inebriated as he had with Makedon, the chaise would be a far more comfortable position should he find difficulty in walking again.

Laurent poured two glasses and brought them to the little table before the chaise, handing Damen his own. Occupying the edge of the chaise, Laurent sat primly upright, looking at his glass and then at Damen. 'Begin, then.'

[princekiller]

'Whatever wisdom that might leave you as soon as the drink takes hold,' Damen said, still smirking before filling his mouth with the four or five grapes he'd taken, freeing his hands to grab the platter.

It occurred to him only once he was halfway into the other room that he'd done Laurent's bidding without question, as though the bonds around his wrists might still mean something. It shook him slightly, if only because it was not accompanied by any real sense of shame. They were friends here, in this place. And, friends or otherwise, it was not in Laurent's nature to simply ask for anything.

Damen sat the platter atop the table before seating himself on chaise, relaxing into the cushions as Laurent handed him a glass of red wine. He lifted his glass as though in salute before bringing the rim to his lips, drinking only a sip as he watched to see if Laurent would truly do the same. The taste was pleasant, strong and earthy and Damen chased the taste with a swipe of his tongue before speaking. 'Did you research the types of wine as well? I noticed you bought quite an assortment.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Laurent lifted his own glass and took a careful sip. The taste was much like the few sips he'd had in the restaurant, strong and still a bit foreign, but not unpleasant. He swallowed and found the warmth that crept down his throat not unfavorable as well.

'I did,' he said. 'The wine merchant was most instructive and directed me to the lighter bodied red wines, and a sweet white wine if I could not tolerate the red.' Laurent reached for a piece of the aged cheese he had bought. 'It is meant to bring out the salt of the cheese. I can taste no difference.'

[princekiller]

Damen's smile turned warmer, a quiet laugh bubbling free of his throat as he took another sip from his own glass before reaching for his own slice of cheese.

'Clearly not a man who appreciates the true purpose of drinking,' he stated as he chewed. Whether or not it brought out the salt of the cheese, Damen couldn't say either, but it was good nonetheless. He shifted slightly on the couch to better face Laurent, who still sat just on the edge, his back a straight line. Damen could recall only one instance in which Laurent had not been fully in control of his faculties, an instance that had not been of Laurent's choosing.

It was a sobering memory, his smile fading somewhat as he softened his tone. 'Are you certain this is something you truly want?' he asked, still holding his glass carefully. 'I meant only to tease you the other night.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'I would rather understand my own limits in the comfort of my home than discover them elsewhere,' said Laurent. He could not count Makedon as a learning experience, not when the man had poured and clapped Laurent's shoulder with an equal ceaselessness. Yet his posture had clearly made Damen uncomfortable, and Laurent made an effort to sit deeper amongst the cushions. He had asked Damen here because he trusted him - it would not do to make him feel a threat.

He took another sip of his wine, then a bite of bread. 'Will my ache tomorrow?' he asked, a faint line between his brows for the memory.

[princekiller]

Gradually, Laurent sat back a bit further on the chaise, muscles uncoiling as the was very carefully forcing them to do so. The words he spoke held logic, however, and Damen silently vowed not to ask again. It was clear Laurent meant to trust him and Damen would not give him reason to question it.

'Possibly,' he answered honestly, taking another, deep sip of his own wine. 'Finding one's limit takes longer than a single evening, I'm afraid. But there are methods to curbing it somewhat. Water, for example. A glass or two before you rest your head can help some come morning. Did you experience any of this with Makedon?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'A sensation that my head was soon to split in two?' asked Laurent. 'Nearly favorable to the nausea that resulted from any bright bit of light. I would like to avoid that.'

Laurent steeled himself and had another sip of wine. He was again met with a warmth in his throat and stomach. 'Also, your need to place a bowl by my bed.'

[princekiller]

Even just the notion of Laurent so far gone as to need a bowl, made Damen laugh faintly. It was ridiculous, really. Almost impossible.

'We'll see what we can avoid,' he promised all the same as he leaned forward to grab himself a bit of bread and another grape. 'Though I will say, the more loose you get this evening, the more you'll pay for it tomorrow. If you're more controlling of what you drink tonight, you'll not suffer so badly, but then that does ruin the purpose of this experiment.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Then Laurent must aim for a point in the middle, halfway between control and this elusive looseness. 'I find it difficult to give up control,' he said, shifting so that his legs were drawn up beneath him on the cushions. He leaned his elbow on the armrest and thought the room was perhaps a touch warmer than before.

'Tell me of your first time. What is in the palace, or did Makedon spirit you away to a tavern?'

[princekiller]

Laurent shifted slightly, drawing his long legs up beneath him. Damen refused to let himself stare, instead taking another sip of his wine.

He smiled at the question, at the memory it brought forth. 'Kastor, actually,' he corrected with a warm smile. 'I was thirteen. It was late and my father was away, out negotiating somewhere across the border. Kastor snuck us out past the guards and down into the cellar where he introduced me to barrel upon barrel of sweet alcohol. We drank ourselves sick, drank for hours, and could barely move the next day.'

It felt a bittersweet memory now, heavy in a way it had never before been, though Damen's smile faltered only slightly. 'I don't believe I've been so sick in my life, before or since.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

The affection on Damen's face was for a moment too much, and unease roiled through Laurent, as unsteadying as Makedon's wine. He breathed in carefully and wondered why Kastor had waited so long. Why had he not done away with his father, with Damen, sooner? Sentiment? Laurent could not believe that, any more than he could understand why his own uncle had waited so long to make an attempt on his own life. He supposed they ought be grateful, that they'd been allowed as many years as they had in comparative peace.

'Things were good between you once,' he ventured.

[princekiller]

It was a quiet observation and Damen turned his gaze on Laurent once more, studying those blue eyes, marveling not for the first time at how much less piercing they were here than they'd been in Vere.

'Once,' he agreed, stretching his arm out across the back of the chaise as he relaxed a bit further. 'Though, I'll admit it's difficult to look back upon some events and not see them in a different light now. Perhaps he had truly been trying to poison me that night? If not for the fact that he'd been nearly as sick as I, I think I might believe it. But if that's the case, when did he decide to do away with me?'

But then, Damen thought he did know. And that Laurent did, too.

'A king maker would always choose the weaker man.' The memory drifted to Damen's mind unbidden and with it a similar sensation as the night Laurent had first spoken those words.

He finished off his glass of wine then in one large gulp.

[cast_iron_bitch]

Laurent watched as Damen's wine disappeared all at once. He leaned forward and found his hand still more than steady enough to refill Damen's glass.

'Do you love him still?' he asked, gratified to hear his voice come out more evenly than he felt. It was masochistic to ask this. Whatever Damen's answer, it would not bring either of them peace.

[princekiller]

The wine was starting to hit now, a slow simmer in his veins, a growing a haze across his brain. It was mild so far, even after downing his glass, and he happily welcomed another one when Laurent handed it to him.

'Kastor?' he asked, though he knew Laurent could mean no one else. He considered it for a moment, a long moment, and found there was really only one answer. 'He is my brother, he's... Is it foolish to feel as though I might be able to talk to him? If he were here, of course. I'd... I'd like to ask him why. How he could hate me so much.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'You tried,' said Laurent. It was foolish to speak of it with wine in his hand, dangerous, even, but Laurent could not leave Damen in suspense. 'I was not there to hear it, but at home you had your chance. If I were to venture a guess, I believe some part of him loved you, too, but not as much as the thought of being King.'

[princekiller]

It could have been a lie. All that Laurent had shared with him since his arrival to this place could all be lies. And yet Damen was inclined still to believe him.

He took a sip from his newest glass, ran his thumb along the rim thoughtfully. Then said, 'Perhaps that's why he didn't simply kill me. I have to believe that, don't I? That he held enough love for me that he couldn't draw the blade.' The thought brought another question to mind and before Damen could think better of it, he asked, 'Do you know if he still lives?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

He expected the question. It was inevitable, if not in this very moment, then one day soon, and still Laurent's heart gave a brief, shuddering quake. He set down his wine glass and turned to face Damen fully.

If the wine had impaired him, it was of no matter. Laurent was no match for Damen if Damen wished to hurt him, they had proven that much on the sparring ground. Laurent inhaled. He steeled himself.

He said, 'I killed him. That was not my blood on the chiton I arrived in. It was yours.'

[princekiller]

Damen felt a weight drop in his stomach the moment Laurent set his wine glass aside and seemed to steel himself. Yet, somehow, once the words were spoken, Damen could not feel surprised. He'd know the blood wasn't Laurent's. As dirtied as he'd been when Damen saw him, as doubtlessly disheveled and worn, he had neither been bleeding nor bore any cuts.

But-- 'Mine,' he echoed for that part was a surprise. 'Did he kill me first?'

He didn't voice the logical next question. He found he couldn't. Somehow in the past month it had become easier to imagine Kastor killing him than Laurent. That realization shook him more than the knowledge of Kastor's death and he sat up straighter, eyes locked on Laurent's. 'In your world, our world, who rules Akielos?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

The tenderness between them had been a new thing. A fragile thing, one Laurent had only just begun to consider a possibility when he arrived here so abruptly, yet he felt a surge of it now.

He said, 'You, Damianos. He put a knife through your side, but you live. My last remembrance of home are the bells ringing to herald in your reign.'

[princekiller]

Instinctively, Damen dropped a hand to his side as though he might feel the wound Laurent spoke of. He felt nothing, of course, though his hand mindlessly drifted to the scar he carried lower, the one his brother put there years before.

'That's why you killed him,' Damen said, knowing somehow the truth whether or not Laurent chose to confirm it.

In that moment, everything made sense, the pieces slotting into place one by one, all the glimpses and hints that Laurent had offered since his arrival, his softer demeanor and warmer smile, his desire for Damen's presence and refusal to entertain the notion of choosing between Damen and his own brother. And the alliance he'd mentioned, two kingdoms united to be ruled by two kings.

His breath shuddered, eyes locked on Laurent's.

He'd let himself ponder the notion only twice before this moment and both times he'd ruled it impossible. It still felt impossible, but--

'We were lovers.'