(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]

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.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Laurent inhaled sharply, a reaction he repressed instinctively with a quick, hard lock of his jaw. For all their skirting around it - himself overtly, Damen less so - he had not expected Damen to come to the proper conclusion so quickly.

He was caught in Damen's dark, wide eyed gaze, pinned there as neatly as if by a sword, and Laurent could only gaze back. Was this how he had imagined Damen discovering the truth at last? It did not matter. They had tumbled here, just as they had tumbled here at home. He wondered what Damen must think of it. 'It must seem impossible,' he said. 'Given your memories' end.'

[princekiller]

'Yes,' Damen replied for there was no reason to lie in the face of Laurent's honesty.

Laurent only stared at him now, wide-eyed and with his shoulders drawn tight as though cornered. Damen felt as though he couldn't move either, felt as though he could barely breathe.

But he did after a moment, and he considered more closely what he could remember of Vere, only now in a new light. Their trip to Nesson, the feel of Laurent's palm on his thigh, the glitter of that sapphire earring upon his neck. He thought of Laurent's body pressed against his own on the balcony, the tremble of his silent laughter, the joyous burn through his body as they'd flown across the rooftops. He thought of their evenings spent hovered over maps in Laurent's tent, strategizing and planning and conversing. The coupling fires at Vask and Laurent's smile when Damen returned to collapse in a heap by his side.

'You said you've always known,' Damen said then because it was the on piece that didn't fit. 'You knew and still you let me bed you.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Damen punched the breath from him once more, and Laurent's gaze dropped to his wine glass. He was surely meant to hate himself. That had been his uncle's design, and like all good plans, it was simple, its outcome likely. Laurent had felt revulsion for Damen until he had not, been alone until Damen had no longer let him, been untouched in all the ways that mattered until Damen tumbled him downward. He had no excuse and would not offer one.

He picked up his wine and attempted one of Damen's deeper sips. He offered the only reply held within him. 'Yes.'

[princekiller]

The reply came with no caveats. No excuses. Laurent knew of Damen's identity from the start and still he'd trusted him. Confided in him. Bent over for him.

He followed Laurent's lead then and quickly took another large drink of his wine before leaning to set the glass on the table. His blood ran undeniably warmer now, but because the alcohol or the new, startling bit of knowledge, Damen wasn't sure.

He suddenly found looking at Laurent more difficult, as though having the doors flung open upon possibility had paralyzed him. He had always found Laurent beautiful, had felt an attraction that had stubbornly refused to yield even upon suffering the end of a whip.

And now he'd seen this Laurent. Softened and warm and remembering a version of Damen he'd yet to be.

Letting out a rough breath, Damen rubbed a hand against his brow and suddenly wished for the wine to take a swifter hold. 'Did our men know?' he asked then immediately remembered another comment Laurent had made and a somewhat strained laugh bubbled forth. 'Ah, what you said of Nikandros and his opinion of you. Yes, I can imagine what he thought.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'What they all thought,' said Laurent, which had only ever been half the truth, and nearly always at Laurent's expense. He felt a hardness, the same part of him that had always railed at being underestimated rousing again, and Laurent allowed it. It was preferable to the too raw energy he felt now, as flayed open as Damen had ever been on the post.

He stood and moved under the pretense of fetching the chocolate still in the kitchen. It was where he'd left it, a large unbroken brick of dark chocolate. The merchant had said it would go well with the red. Laurent could hardly see it beneath him.

'And you?' he said, and then, when his voice wavered, 'Does it please you to have gotten a leg over the most difficult ride in all of the four kingdoms?'

[princekiller]

Laurent abruptly stood then, leaving Damen to stare after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. There was no barrier between the two rooms however so Damen's gaze did not leave him and he frowned when Laurent's tone turned biting, a threatened snake wound tight to strike.

He stood then, rounding the chaise though he did not tread into the kitchen, giving the space between himself and Laurent that Laurent clearly needed.

'It pleases me that I earned your trust,' he said, gaze dropping to the large brick of chocolate Laurent hovered over now and then to Laurent himself, his body held tight, a line of tension despite the drink already. 'And that we were to rule together. Side by side. In the short time I do remember, I know... I do know we worked well together, Laurent.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

When Damen spoke, his voice was closer, and Laurent held himself very still. They did work well together. Against all reason and odds, they always had, but that did not mean the course had been smooth. 'Eventually,' he said. 'The path was not easy. I am not easy.'

He turned to find Damen standing near the entrance to the kitchen. He was not Laurent's. There was so much he didn't know, so many things that Laurent held little desire to tell him when the truth was not forced, even as he knew that those truths had strengthened their bond. His Damen knew every part of him. This one had only begun. And still.

'You should know that, if you are ever inclined to - ' Laurent paused, his pale eyes for a moment widening as he struggled for the word. 'Deepen our friendship.'

[princekiller]

That, at least, was an undeniable truth. Laurent was many things -- sharp, manipulative, conniving, even more intelligent than he was beautiful -- but he was not easy. He was warmer now than Damen remembered, but he was still very much the same man with all his sharp edges and piercing tongue.

Knowing what he did now, Damen couldn't help himself imagining how it might have gone. Had Laurent been the one to kiss him first or had Damen initiated? When had Damen revealed his identity? Before, he hoped.

Or did he? Would it have even mattered?

And how had those lips felt against his own? How soft was his skin? Had Laurent asked to be taken or had they simply fallen into it? Had one time bled into another? Into many? How had Laurent's face look when he yielded? How--

Damen forced himself to stop as Laurent's gaze met his own and his breath stilled for a moment before he said, 'You would still want me? Even here?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'Perhaps.'

He wanted him, yes, but Laurent had not yet decided if that was wise. This world was new, and in it they could be anything, to anyone. Without the ever spiraling chaos of home to propel them together, perhaps it was not to be, but Laurent would not rule it out.

He cocked his head, finally gathering the chocolate to carry back to the chaise table. He remained well clear of Damen.

'Would you?'

[princekiller]

It was exactly the response Damen might have predicted from Laurent and yet it still surprised him, eliciting a quick breath of a laugh and an echoed, 'Perhaps,' of his own in reply.

Laurent stayed well clear of Damen as he brought the chocolate back into the front room, but Damen made no move to return to the couch, only stood where he was, watching curiously. And considering. He couldn't say he'd never thought of bedding Laurent before, hadn't thought of a dozen ways he'd like to touch Laurent if given the chance, impossible an idea as it had been. But that wasn't the question at the moment. This was much more than a single night of fucking.

'Want is not the question,' he stated then as he stood at the foot of the couch. He cocked his head, let a small, almost hopeful smile curve his lips. 'What if I were to court you?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Laurent smiled despite his determination not to, though he was careful to keep any traces of hope from his eyes. He said, 'The Damen I knew spoke of this. Of a world even stranger than this one, where a brother prince of Akielos could come in state to my father for my hand.' Laurent reclaimed his glass and leaned back against the chaise.

'He would have been delighted to foist his second son off to the enemy. Please, sit.' Laurent nodded at the opposite end of the chaise. 'Tell me, what does an Akielon courtship entail?'

[princekiller]

It still felt strange to hear himself referred to nearly as another person. There was sense in it, he knew. The Damen Laurent had known, the Damen he'd bedded had seen more than he had himself, had lived through more.

Though, Damen liked to believe, chose to believe, that the Damen Laurent had befriended, the one he'd slowly come to trust, was the same.

He eyed the cushion Laurent motioned toward briefly before taking a seat upon it, reaching once more for his wine glass. The air about them felt decidedly different now, lighter in a way Damen could not explained and he settled back, his eyes on Laurent. 'Gifts, largely,' he said. 'Tokens of affection in the form of jewelry or clothing or... books I think you might enjoy. Portraits. Letters. Invitations out riding or to join me for dinner or to a feast. I imagine there might be some alterations if I were to court a Veretian, though I've honestly never thought of it before.'

He paused then, still smiling faintly as he ran a finger along his wine glass. 'Would that please you then? To be courted?'

[cast_iron_bitch]

The wine must have taken hold, for Laurent found himself twisting sideways to face Damen, his cheek resting lightly against the cushions once at his back. The traitorous smile on his lips remained as Damen made his list.

'By you,' he answered, feeling the warmth that had crept down his throat in his cheeks now. He cared for very few of these possible gifts, but it was the manner in which they were given that was important, and Laurent set each item to memory. He would like to give Damen items he might cherish in turn.

He said, 'I am particularly intrigued by what books you might select to tempt me. Are you a very avid reader?'

[princekiller]

It was only Laurent's clarification that made Damen consider the notion of Laurent being courted here by others. Or whatever might stand as courting in this culture. Laurent was strikingly beautiful, a fact that had never escaped Damen nor many others. Cold as he could be, there could be men willing to take on the challenge, men Laurent could warm to just as he'd seemingly warmed to Damen.

It was a notion that made Damen decidedly uncomfortable.

'No,' he said with a quiet, somewhat forced laugh as Laurent relaxed slightly. He took another sip of his wine. 'I've always preferred action to reading, learning on my feet rather than from words. Much to my father's dismay at times. But you like languages, do you not?' he continued, softer now. Considering. 'I could find you books in dozens of different ones, find you books on how to learn a few even.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'You ought to have listened to more tales of political intrigue,' said Laurent with an arched brow. He'd known the answer before he asked, of course, recalling that Damen had been an active youth like any young warrior.

He curled his wine glass close to him and considered. 'They speak Spanish here,' he said. 'And Chinese. It is more predominant in some areas than others. I would like to learn those.'

[princekiller]

It was a suggestion that might have been helpful some five or ten years ago, Damen thought. As it was, he only smiled faintly, and wondered if reading would indeed have aided him in alluding Kastor's plotting and Laurent's machinations. Or if he would have simply fallen into it either way.

'Chinese and Spanish,' Damen echoed fondly. He knew very little about either, was certain he couldn't even say where the languages developed or anything of the lands where they had developed. But he knew of at least two bookstores and he was positive he could ask a number of people for help. He would have a dozen or so books for Laurent in no time at all. 'And would you consider a ride out into the countryside with me,' he continued, turning slightly to prop his arm on the back of the couch then and resting his head on his hand. 'Might not be as exciting as the last time we rode together, but it's been months since I was last on a horse. I've missed it.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

'Is it possible?' asked Laurent. Neither of them possessed the wealth here to keep horses, but it seemed that Damen had found another way. He had arranged himself on Laurent's chaise in much the same way he'd done when Laurent had declared himself too inebriated to stand. It reminded Laurent to drink, and so he did, nearly half a glass down now. It was not unpleasant.

Leaning forward, Laurent selected a few nuts for himself, then pushed the chocolate nearer to Damen. 'Have you a friend with horses?'

[princekiller]

Damen hadn't seen Aramis in some time, but still he sprung immediately to mind. He thought he might be able to consider the man a friend though likely not strong enough of one to reasonably borrow his horse for any length of time.

'Yes,' he replied, pushing himself away from the chaise enough to reach over and break off a piece of chocolate for himself before resting back once again. 'But there are other means as well. I hear there's a stable some miles into the countryside and you can rent horses for a time. I believe it's a guided thing; they won't let you out on your own, but it might be better than nothing at all.'

[cast_iron_bitch]

Laurent's brows lifted. 'That is a pattern here,' he noted. 'One does not pay to own a luxury, one pays for time with it instead. It's all rather feudal.'

He watched Damen take the chocolate. He knew from experience how warm his hands were, how the chocolate must be melting against Damen's fingers already. Curious, Laurent took a small piece of his own. He let it soften, then ate it, collecting the few melted bits with his tongue after. 'I don't eat many sweets,' he said. 'This is quite good.'

[princekiller]

'Yes,' Damen agreed with a quiet laugh. It had struck him as odd as well, though not quite as disconcerting as the fact that, though he was free here, he could not afford many things that were considered luxury. Including a car, he'd discovered. And a motorcycle. Though he longed to learn how to operate both.

His thoughts, however, were soon pulled to the quick swipe of Laurent's tongue across his bottom lip. Knowing what he did now, was he allowed to look? Was he allowed to indulge in thinking of that tongue in greater detail?

For the moment, he simply popped his own bit of chocolate in his mouth before sucking the melted smears off the pad of his thumb and finger. He made a humming sound of agreement, chewing enough before he could speak and offer a smile. 'Indeed,' he agreed. 'Rich, but not too sweet.' He took another sip of his wine, noting how the flavors seemed to compliment one another well. 'Did you research this as well?'