Laurent of Vere

In truth, Damen's attraction to Laurent both defied all reason and made entirely too much sense. He could still remember all too well the first time he'd laid eyes upon Laurent, before Damen knew him at all. Damen had wanted him even then.

His phone buzzed again before he could come up with a suitable counter and he frowned at the words that popped onto the screen. Something did not feel right.

Unsure of how to proceed for a moment, Damen's fingers hovered over the device. Then:

I have made myself an abundance of soup for the evening. Would you like some?

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Laurent gazed down at the text with a strangled feeling in his throat. For a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the idea of leaving, of retreating from this apartment and its occupant to the life he'd had only earlier today, not simple, but far simpler than this. He would not, of course, and he was too unused to imagining happiness to keep hold of the fantasy for long.

At length, Laurent exhaled and began to type.

No, thank you. I've ordered dinner.

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The response did not appear for a long moment and Damen's frown deepened at the words.

Then I will bring only myself, he wrote, the stranger worry he harbored low in his gut spurring him to grab his coat from the hall closet and shove on his shoes. The fact that he was wearing little more than a pair of loose-fitting trousers and an oversized sleeve-less shirt barely occurred to him.

Edited Date: 2017-01-25 06:17 am (UTC)

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Laurent stared down at his screen. He'd had no opportunity to warn either of them, and his mind stalled with rare panic. That Nicaise must stay here was certain. That Damen would be irate was also certain, and Laurent attempted to turn his frayed thoughts to weighing the pros and cons of waiting another day before he broached the topic.

His fingers moved, beginning to type out a new message to delay Damen when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Laurent sprang from his chair as if shot by an arrow, and it was only as he opened the door that he realized it could not be Damen.

'Pheasant and chocolate?' asked the boy on the other side. Laurent stared at him until he began to fidget and look inside the bag. 'It's all here. Rice, bread. Birds. We good?'

Shaking himself, Laurent reached out and took the bag. 'Yes.' He fished awkwardly into his pants pocket and pulled out several bills. They were more than the food and the tip combined, but he pressed them into the boy's chest, half pushing him into the hall.

'Donovan's thanks you for your business!' he heard as he firmly shut the door, and Laurent rested all his weight against it.

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In the time it took for Damen to leave his dwelling and being his walk to Laurent's terrace, there was no further correspondence from Laurent himself, which Damen chose to take as indication that Laurent did not oppose his arrival.

There were few things Damen had taken to easily in this city, but transportation was one of them. Though he still did not know how to operate a vehicle himself, he was well acquainted with the workings of the bus system as well as what people called taxis, and he employed the use of one now, paying the proper amount of coin once he was delivered just outside of Laurent's complex as well as offering his driver a smile and open gratitude for the service.

In moments, he was outside Laurent's door and he wasted no time in knocking, checking the device in his pocket one more time only after he'd done so. Still, Laurent had not left him no message.

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Laurent breathed in deeply through his nose. He had remained against the door for some time, his eyes closed and his hand still clutching the paper delivery bag. He breathed in and in, but his pulse would not slow. He had just resolved to make tea when another knock vibrated the door against his back, and Laurent's stomach lurched.

Turning, he pried open the door with his free hand and glowered. 'The tip could not have been inadequate,' he began, but Laurent paled at the sight of Damen. He opened his mouth.

'Soup.'

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There were no footsteps before the door was being wrenched open before him, expression cloudy and words bewildering.

'Tip?' Damen asked just as Laurent added a single, even stranger word. He paused for a moment, glancing down at the bag Laurent held in one hand as he tried to piece events together. 'As I said, I left it,' he said, brow furrowed still. He was not accustomed to seeing Laurent in open disarray. It was far more unsettling than he might have expected.

He didn't invite himself in, but stood, still studying. And said, 'That is quite a lot of food for one person.'

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A banging sound woke Nicaise. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the first place, but the cushions had looked so inviting. He hadn't slept well in days, if at all. The door to the library was still ajar and through it Nicaise heard voices. He sat up, setting the book aside, wondering who it could be. Laurent said he lived alone.

Nicaise got up, and there was another knocking, another voice. Was it people from the children's home come here to bring him back? Some other threat, perhaps? He looked around, but the room was sparse. A pen sat on the desk, it wasn't much of a weapon, but he picked up and walked confidently into the other room despite the hammering of his heart. He wouldn't let them take him.

He stopped, stood there, rumpled and sleepy in a slightly too-large shirt and jeans, and glowered at who he found in the doorway.

"I thought you said they didn't allow pets," he said accusingly to Laurent.

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'Yes,' said Laurent, staring helplessly back at Damen, then, 'Yes,' at the sound of Nicaise's voice. It was impossible to imagine that he would not be roused by all the noise, yet Laurent had hoped to delay this, for all their sakes.

'Come in, Damen,' he said, turning back to Nicaise. His gaze dropped briefly to the pen in Nicaise's hand, gripped tight beneath the bandages that wrapped his forearm. 'Darrow has neither slaves nor pets,' he said, searching for calm, 'And there will be no need to write anything.' He settled the bag on the table and pulled out a chair for Nicaise, extending his hand for the pen. His next question was pitched for all.

'I hope I may trust everyone with forks and knives?'

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A movement out the corner of Damen's eyes caught his attention and he glanced over, arching an eyebrow in surprise at the sight of a young, familiar face. The child's tone, when he spoke, was just as sharp as Damen remembered it and he carried a pen like a weapon.

Laurent's strange suddenly made more sense, however.

'I see it's your turn housing children,' he said, keeping his voice very calm. He took no further steps forward.

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Nicaise walked with his usual grace over to the larger eating table. He ignored the Akielon, his face a cool mask to show he wasn't afraid. Whether pets or slaves were allowed or not, he was still here, and Nicaise considered himself superior to him.

"Then why has he brought you food?" he asked, handing Laurent the pen and then primly sitting down. He would make no promises about cutlery if the giant came near him.

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Laurent breathed in carefully through his nose. To his mind, Damen had housed precisely zero children, only an Akielon one year Laurent's junior, who Damen had met but a single time. He ignored it and went to the refrigerator, deciding to add a small salad to Nicaise's diet. He would need the iron.

'The food is from a restaurant,' he said, placing a small bowl of greens before Nicaise. He pulled the plastic silverware from the bag and used it to begin cutting the pheasant into portions appropriate for a sick child's stomach.

He looked up at Damen between strokes of his knife. 'You are letting out all the warm air.'

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Laurent seemed to barely address Damen as Nicaise sat himself at the table, letting himself be cared for as though he had suddenly become a pet of Laurent's. There was a gentleness in the way Laurent cut the meat, a gentleness Damen had seen so rarely, and he was suddenly struck by the memory of sapphires and Laurent's bruised skin.

Some of his anger deflated as he formed some bit of understanding, but he remained silent as he closed the door behind him.

'What has happened to him?' he asked, noting the bandage wrapped around one of the boy's wrists.

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As a palace pet, Nicaise was well used to being served, so he waited patiently and watched as Laurent prepared his food. Compounded by the Akielon's presence, he was ready to press Laurent more about his no pets claim if he tried to actually feed him.

But the Akielon spoke first and Nicaise leveled him with a glare from across the room. "How is it your business?" He looked to Laurent. "Why is he here?"

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Laurent placed a plate with pheasant and a much larger portion of wild rice before Nicaise, not allowing his eyes to drop to the offending bandages. 'Nicaise's stay at the children's home proved untenable,' he said simply, resisting the urge to sink into the chair nearest where Damen lingered. Instead, he poured himself a glass of water and drank from it, hoping that the cool would prove soothing.

'Damen and I went through much since our parting in Arles,' he told Nicaise, hesitating in the form of taking another sip. How soon could Nicaise bear the incredible truth that they were lovers, moreover, that Damen wasn't Damen at all, but Damianos? 'I trust him with my life, and so can you.'

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Frowning still, Damen turned his attention to Laurent, watching the careful bob of his throat as he took a long drink of water. He was being careful with his wording, Damen noticed. Careful in a way Damen hadn't seen in months. There was no mention of him and Damen as lovers, a fact that did not settle well with Damen at all.

And yet, the words he did speak unsettled him in an entirely different way.

'We are friends,' he said, masking his surprise. 'And equals. And you would do best to accept that sooner rather than later.'

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Nicaise's mouth fell open and his cheeks bloomed red when Laurent actually told the Akielon about what happened at the children's home. Laurent didn't go into detail, but it was still more than he would ever want the barbarian pet to know. Nicaise's hands disappeared under the table so his bandages wouldn't be visible.

He did not know what Laurent meant by a parting at Arles. More astounding was that Laurent trusted anyone with his life, an Akielon no less, and to openly admit it? Nicaise thought briefly about the way Laurent had looked before he left the palace, how Damen was at his side, and sneered down at his plate of food.

His eyes cut to the Akielon and he did not hide the disdain in his expression. "I don't take orders from Akielon dogs."

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Laurent exhaled. He would prefer Nicaise to eat his food. He would prefer that he never have harmed himself at all, nor been killed at home. He would prefer a great many things that could not be, and Laurent could find no more reason to prevaricate.

At home, it might have been a game, one genuinely amusing to Laurent, but meant to sharpen Nicaise's already quick mind. Here, Laurent was blunt. 'It was not an order, and he is not a dog. He is a King, Nicaise, or was, before this place stripped him of his title.'

Laurent looked from Nicaise to Damen. 'This is Damianos.'

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And another surprise still.

Damen blinked, then stared at Laurent for a moment. He had not expected Laurent to be so honest. Based upon both memory and what he knew now of Laurent's mind, he had assumed that Laurent found some bit of enjoyment in the child's sharp tongue and easy dismissal of Damen. Either his patience had merely worn thin or his warmth toward Damen had grown to such an extent as some comments said at his expense were not to be tolerated.

'And neither of us are kings here,' he added after a moment. 'At least not in title or power. Have you been here long?' he asked then, the question posed toward Nicaise though it's Laurent whom Damen looks to.

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Nicaise stared at Laurent. Of every shock and surprise this place had thrown at him, this one, that was not even a product of Darrow, was the biggest. He wanted to be as blunt as Laurent, to ask why the enemy Prince who had killed his brother was here to eat pheasant with them, was a friend, an equal.

Prince-killer was on the tip of Nicaise's tongue, he wanted to spit in the Akielon's face and make it count this time. But he thought of the bed of cushions Laurent had made him. Laurent, who looked shaken for some reason. The Laurent Nicaise knew back home was neither shakable nor so forgiving. Would the Laurent Nicaise knew before have invited him to his home?

Everything here was...wrong. Nicaise felt wrong. Displaced.

Nicaise looked away from Laurent and to his plate of food, overwhelmed. He hardly registered Damianos' question, not that he would have answered it either way.

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It was one shock among many, and not one Laurent savored delivering, but it was done. He watched Nicaise and weighed his options. He didn't mean to let the boy suffer again, but how much weight could the assurance hold? He had left Nicaise to his death - what reason could he have to trust him?

Laurent glanced at Damen, but he would find no advice there, not because of any failings but because there was none. There was no good path here. All Laurent could do was to attempt to offer hope.

'You've been here a handful of days. Acclimation will come in time,' he said. 'You know what it is to survive, Nicaise - I am asking you to do it again. I will be a better friend to you this time.'

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The shock was clear upon the boy's face as he turned his attention back to Laurent and, in an instant, Damen felt what remained of his ire dissipate. For there was confusion in the boy's face too, and maybe something like betrayal. Damen knew exactly how he was seen in Vere, knew it was not without good reason. Surely, if history had played out differently, a prince who had done what he had would be equally reviled in Akielos. Damen could not fault the boy his reaction.

But he would not offer his friendship, at least not yet. If only in part because he knew Nicaise would not accept it.

The whole conversation felt one he should have no part in and Damen took a half a step back, his eyes darting to Laurent before he spoke. 'Do you wish me to leave you? It was not my intention to interrupt.'

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Nicaise let Laurent's words sit and ruminate. It was true, he had learned how to survive at a young age. Anyone born into poverty must. And he had learned a new sort of survival at ten when he came to the Palace. He had missed his family so intensely at first he would cry himself to sleep. He did not like the ways the Regent would try to comfort him, and he soon learned that the Palace wasn't a place where you were allowed to be vulnerable. After the first few weeks he hadn't once let himself cry again.

He wouldn't let it happen now, not here. He had already shown enough weakness by taking a piece of glass to his wrists in a failed attempt at leaving this place.

He didn't know what sort of friend Laurent could be, or what that even meant, but he did not want to be fragile. He would not.

Nicaise took one breath, two, and carefully picked his utensils up to eat. "I'm fine, but his ugly face is ruining my appetite," Nicaise said, turning his nose up at the Akielon.

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'A simple remedy then would be not to look at him,' said Laurent mildly, draining the last of his water. Nicaise was eating - under the circumstances it might be the best that he could hope for, and Laurent pushed back his chair.

'Perhaps you and I could speak alone,' he said to Damen, indicating a corner of the living room. 'Nicaise, eat. When you are finished with that you may have the chocolate.'

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