Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Exalted," Nikandros said. "You can't stay here."

Which was ridiculous. Damen was king now, uncontested ruler of Akielos. Who had the authority to tell him to move?

But Nikandros had been Damen's friend for long enough that even his strict sense of duty wouldn't stop him from telling Damen he was being an idiot when he was being an idiot. And Damen knew he was being an idiot now, he just… couldn't quite bring himself to care.

His brother was dead. He'd known it might happen, known that this was the likely, and indeed, optimal outcome of their fight, and yet he still hadn't fully believed it. A part of him had hoped there'd be some sort of logical explanation that would make everything all right again.

But instead, he hadn't even been able to dispatch his brother himself. The Regent had took that from him.

Nikandros sighed, and Damen felt his hand on his shoulder. "Come, Damen. You must greet your people. We will… we'll take care of the body."

"He should be buried with Father," Damen said, voice rough. "He deserves that honor."

"Exal–Damen." Nikandros looked pained. "I know you loved him, but… he was a traitor to you, and to your father's memory. He does not deserve any honor."

"I know what he did," Damen said, his voice coming out harsher than he meant it to. "I just–Nikandros, he was my brother."

"He was your brother," Nikandros agreed. "And you loved him. But he has been a traitor, and all of Akielos has seen it. They have had to hear his lies. You can't give him the honors that are due to him as the son of the king. Not if you want to hold Akielos."

"Dammit, Nikandros." Damen let his eyes slip shut for just a moment. He hated when Nikandros was right. He hated that Kastor had betrayed him in the first place and put him in this situation. His shoulders slumped. "Just give me another moment. Let me say goodbye as a brother before I go greet my people as a king."

"...of course," he said softly, and reached to put a hand on Damen's shoulder. There was a long pause before he spoke again, and when he did, it sounded like he was straining. "I remember… when we were boys… how we used to annoy him, and how tolerant he was of us."

"I looked up to him." Damen swallowed. Now was not the time to cry. He could not appear weak or tearstained the first time he spoke to his people as a king. "He was my hero for so much longer than he was my enemy, and yet, history will only see the usurper."

Nikandros squeezed his shoulder. "You will have to carry his memory. It… isn't fair."

"It isn't. And it wasn't fair to him that I was the heir instead of him for no reason other than that our father married my mother, not his." He waved his hand sharply before Nikandros could object. "I'm not saying what he did was right. I just… I wish things were different."

He sighed. "I know you do. You're a good man, Damen. You would have done right by him, if things hadn't turned out this way."

As patient as Nikandros was being, Damen knew he was right. They couldn't stay here. Damen now had a kingdom to run. He took a last deep breath and stood. "All right," Damen said. "We'll go tell the world I am king."

Nikandros nodded and dropped his hand. "Your people are waiting for you." They were, though Damen couldn't help but think of how small the crowd would be. The people of Marlas, along with Nikandros' soldiers and those who had arrived with Damen, and Torveld's Patrans. There would be messengers sent, of course, but his first address as king would be to these people.

Damen took another steadying breath and thought of Laurent. He'd be back that night, and they could hold each other through the night and through all their complicated feelings. But that would be later.

With thoughts of his lover to bolster him, Damen stepped out in front of his people, and watched as everyone fell to their knees.

"Our traitorous brother is dead," he said, and didn't even flinch as he said it. "Marlas once again belongs to Kyros Nikandros, and Akielos belongs to us."

The cheers that greeted his words were gratifying, even through the numbness that had overtaken him.

"We still have much work to do to fix the harm our brother has wrought. Our path is long and difficult, but we will face each new challenge with honor." The crowd cheered at that as well. Damen smiled. "We thank you, our loyal subjects, for staying true to us and to the Akielos for all this time." Or for switching sides quickly enough when the opportunity presented itself, at least, but he didn't have enough men to turn down any willing to fight for him, and it's not like they could go back to Kastor. "Your honor does you proud, and will ensure many victories for Akielos!"

It wasn't a long speech, but there wasn't much to be said. Every man here knew why they were here, no matter what side they'd started on. Damen threw himself into the work that followed, filling his mind with logistics, plans, and messages for the kyroi in the south--anything to keep the image of the Regent's sword thrust through his brother's throat out of his head.

When night came, all he wanted to do was fall into bed with Laurent, and cry for the brother he had lost, but Laurent still hadn't returned.

He didn't return the next day, either. Or the day after that. Nicaise hadn't returned either, and Damen couldn't decide whether that was a good sign or a bad sign.

Damen wanted to ride to Fortaine himself and drag Laurent back by his stupid yellow hair, but Nikandros stopped him.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but we don't even know if he's there. Or alive," he said. "We can't risk you riding out alone into enemy territory for a foreign prince who might not even be there to find!"

Damen wanted to hit something. But instead he sent spies to see what they could learn.

The irony, of course, was that Laurent himself would never have stopped him. Laurent would have been riding out at his side, ready with some ridiculous ploy or disguise that shouldn't possibly work, yet somehow would.

The spies brought back that there had been two prisoners taken, and that Govart was in a bad enough rage that even Guion, who held the fort, was afraid for his life. There was nothing concrete about the fate of those prisoners, so Damen kept waiting.

"You should return to Ios," Nikandros told him.

"No," Damen said, and ended that conversation. There was only so far he would allow Nikandros to push before Damen reminded him who was king.

There was one bright spot. Kallias and Erasmus' reunion. Not that they would so much as look up from the ground when Damen was around, but Lykaios filled him in on the details. Against all odds, considering where they'd started, she and Damen had become friends.

"Were Ismene and I this bad in the beginning?" she asked him, after telling him about the two men holding hands under a tree and then blushing furiously when they'd noticed Lykaios looking..

"Even worse," Damen said, and she laughed.

On the morning of the fifth day, he finally had word from his scouts--not about a pair of riders approaching as he'd expected, but about an entire company of Veretian soldiers riding toward them under the starburst banner of their prince. There was alarm on the faces of his men, but Damen felt only relief. Laurent was alive, and he was here.

He spent the next hours repeatedly telling his men not to ready themselves for war before finally leaving control of the fort to Nikandros and riding out himself to meet the company. He reluctantly agreed to take Torveld, so that it was a meeting of princes rather than a man riding out to meet his lover, or a prince-killer riding out to get slaughtered by the troops of a kingdom that hated him. He'd also brought along Lykaios, Ismene, and two of Nikandros' best men after they swore not to attack. Torveld had brought four of his own Patran guards, and while riding up as part of a small, swift group was better than waiting the endless hours for Laurent to come to them, it still wasn't what he wanted. Damen's elation at Laurent's safety and his impatience warred inside him and left him itchy and out of sorts.

"So you've known the Prince of Vere was alive this whole time?" Torveld asked.

Damen stared at him and remembered that Laurent's identity was not actually something everyone knew. "It's Laurent."

"Yes," Torveld said. "I know his name."

Damen just shook his head. He'd figure it out soon enough.

And he did. Damen smiled a little to himself at the strangled noise of Torveld's gasp as he saw Laurent, unmistakable at the head of the troop with Nicaise by his side. His relief to see both of them alive eased some of the itchy tension brought by days of not knowing, and not being able to act as he wanted to.

Laurent drew up his horse, expression unreadable as he regarded Damen. "So. You have your kingdom."

"And you have an army," Damen answered. His expression, on the other hand, was completely readable. He was smiling. If they weren't on horseback, he might have dismounted and run to take Laurent in his arms. It was probably for the best he couldn't. He knew Laurent well enough to see that they'd probably have to talk about their new positions before anything happened between them. It didn't make the urge any less pressing. He looked over at Nicaise and raised a hand. "Glad to see you're both well. I'd ask what kept you so long, but…" he gestured at the army. "I think that question answers itself."

"Oddly, the men most loyal to me were not all stationed at the fort where my uncle was rumored to be staying." There was a flicker of stronger emotion on Laurent's face that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. That the rumor had been false was something they were both well aware of now. Yet again, Damen banished the image of the Regent's sword running his brother through.

"Yes, instead I got the dubious pleasure of meeting him. But not of killing him." A fresh wave of grief and regret flooded him and he shut his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. I've always imagined he'd be my problem in the end, one way or the other." He didn't sound particularly happy or sad about it. Just resigned. "You're still at Marlas?"

Well, Damen had imagined Kastor would be his problem in the end, at least once he'd accepted Kastor as a problem at all, and look how that turned out. There'd be time to catch each other up later, though, and he didn't think he'd be able to keep his composure if he started talking about it now. So he just nodded. "I waited for you."

"Of course you did." Finally, there was a small, fond smile from Laurent, though it disappeared quickly, like the rest of his expressions. He glanced past Damen at the people who'd ridden with him, and the fort beyond. "We should ride on. It's been a long road from Acquitart. My men are tired, and we have diplomatic matters to discuss."

"Diplomatic matters." Damen did not make a lewd remark about what sort of diplomatic matters the two of them could discuss. Not now, not in front of the troops. Especially as now that he'd managed to look at people who weren't Laurent, he could tell just how hostile Laurent's men were towards him. More than a few had hands on their weapons, and it was likely only Laurent's orders that kept them from attacking.

Right. He was the prince-killer, the monster who had killed Prince Auguste. It's not like he ever forgot what he'd done, but it usually didn't feel like the biggest part of his identity. Not even with Laurent, not anymore.

He turned his horse. Torveld still looked gobsmacked. His men looked confused. Lykaios and Ismene just looked amused. Well, they had known longer than anyone, save himself and Nicaise. Damen raised his hand, letting his voice carry through the crowd.

"Come, my brother of Vere. You and your men are welcome. Tonight, we feast!"

He motioned for his men to follow Damen and the rest of his party to Marlas. That could have gone much worse. He could still feel the tension and rage boiling off his men behind him, but he would deal with that later. The important part was that they followed him now. The rest would come later, when he had a chance to speak to Damen.

He'd seen the suggestion of a leer on Damen's face when he'd mentioned diplomatic matters, and while the idea of sex was very appealing, they had too many other issues to deal with first. Starting with an explanation of why the fuck Akielon soldiers had raided and then razed the village of Breteau. He was sure there was some kind of scheme involving his uncle, but without any further intelligence, he didn't know, and he needed Damen to announce–publicly–that such attacks were unacceptable. There was no way he'd be able to keep his men in the same lines as Akielons if he didn't.

Nicaise seemed to sense his mood, and rode up next to him. "I'm not sharing with you if you fight," he told him. "You can sleep in the hallway for all I care." He'd been annoyed at Laurent since they left Fortaine.

"I don't think it will be an issue. If I remember correctly, there are plenty of rooms in Marlas, if Damen and I can't get along." As though he could ever forget anything about Marlas.

Nicaise scowled. "Well, don't come complaining to me either. I don't care about your lovers' quarrels."

"I'll try to keep my heartbreak to myself," he said dryly. "In any case, it won't be anything for you to concern yourself with. I assume you'll be resuming your duties as Damen's squire?"

"Will you be resuming your duties?"

"You're still mad about the dress."

"You didn't even blush!"

Laurent smiled a little. "Try harder. I like blue. I might have objected harder to orange."

Nicaise wrinkled his nose. "I'd object to being seen with you if you were in orange. It doesn't go with your complexion at all."

Laurent bit down on a fond smile. Of course Nicaise would care about something like that. He was very predictable in some ways. He turned his attention to the ride in front of them, and as Marlas came into clearer view, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

Six years had brought a great deal of change to the fort. The trappings and flourishes of Veretian architecture had been bashed down to match Akielon sensibilities, and despite having seen the place in his nightmares for the past six years, even Laurent found it unfamiliar and foreign-looking. He didn't look back, but he knew that his men would find it similarly disconcerting. This had been theirs, once.

It wasn't now.

He had to trust his men to remember that the Akielons were their allies now, and to ignore the insult to the original Veretian keep. He'd asked them to swallow far worse, back in Arles. They could handle this, too.

The muttering behind him indicated that they were less than pleased with the situation. The muttering intensified, and Laurent looked up to see Damen trotting over.

"It's… different," he said awkwardly. "I should have thought--well, I suppose it's too late now. We don't have to stay here, though. I am King. Any of my Kyroi would be honored to host me."

"They are my men, and they'll get used to it," he said grimly. "I trust them."

"That isn't what I--" Damen broke off and shook his head. "Never mind." The gates were opening. Damen rode to the head of the party without looking back towards Laurent.

Nicaise leaned over. "Everyone acts like you're so smart, but if you really thought it was your men he was worrying about, you're stupider than Torveld."

Lykaios and Ismene rode up to join them. "What did he say?" Lykaios asked, looking at Nicaise.

Nicaise rolled his eyes. "Damen offered to move things to somewhere more comfortable. He interpreted it to mean the rest of the Veretians and declined." Laurent could feel his face getting hot at being discussed like this. Nicaise ignored him. "Because he's an idiot."

Ismene sucked air through her teeth. "Laurent, you are allowed to think of your own comfort, you know."

Lykaios added, "Aren't Veretians supposed to be hedonistic?"

"We are," Nicaise said. "Except for him."

Laurent shot Nicaise an annoyed glare as they rode through the gates, then turned his attention to Ismene. "He's right. I'm somewhat famously an ice cold bitch who doesn't partake in any entertainment. And getting this alliance off the ground is more important than anyone's comfort."

"That sounds like the sort of excuse someone who wasn't allowing themself comfort might make," Lykaios said, giving him a sweet smile. "Don't you think everyone being comfortable would improve the chances of an alliance working?"

He ground his teeth and shook his head. "I can't make anything about this alliance comfortable for them. The sooner they accept that we're working with Akielos, the better off we'll all be. Marlas will be fine until we move on."

Ismene gave Lykaios a small head shake, then turned back to Laurent. "Just take care of yourself. For the sake of the alliance, if you won't let it be for your own sake. There's no alliance without you."

"Maybe I could lead," Nicaise said, shooting Laurent an insolent look. "How hard can it be? You manage."

Lykaios reached over to give the boy a light shove--not hard enough to make him do anything more than sway in the saddle. "Hush, you."

Nicaise flashed a grin that was more genuine than any he'd shown since they left Fortaine. Laurent wondered how long Nicaise would continue to stay with him and the Veretians. He still had a choice, after all.

"Come on," Ismene said, as they reached the gate. "We have to see to our own people." She paused and gave Laurent a serious look. "Go talk to him."

He frowned at her. Of course he was going to talk to Damen. They had to talk. Even if there weren't… what there was between them.

"She means about your feelings," Nicaise said. He rolled his eyes and dismounted. "You're utterly useless."

His feelings. Really. As if they mattered at all in comparison with everything else they had to deal with. He shook his head and wheeled his horse around to find Jord. "Get the men settled," he told him. "The barracks, if you think they can stomach it, the tents if not."

"It will be the tents, your Highness."

Laurent couldn't blame them. He nodded. "Fine. I'll be in the keep, though."

Jord gave him an unhappy look. "With the Patran prince and--"

"And the Akielon king," he finished for him, meeting his eyes firmly. "Our allies."

"Yes, your Highness." He wasn't happy about it, but he would follow orders. That was what mattered. Laurent nodded, dismissing him.

Torveld had finished dealing with his men by then and walked over. "So you're Prince Laurent. I, ah, may owe you an apology. Or several."

Laurent shook his head. "You can hardly be blamed for treating me as the person I appeared to be. No apologies are necessary, though I regret to inform you that I am not, and will never be, for sale." He smiled to show Torveld that it was amusing--not offensive--that he'd offered so many times to buy him.

"Damen knew, though? I suppose that explains why he was so adamant he'd never sell you." He shook his head. "I thought he was just being--well, you know how he is. Perhaps we can start over, though? Get to know each other as princes?"

Laurent kept his smile pinned in place. "I look forward to it."

Torveld nodded awkwardly and smiled back. "I'll leave you to it. If you need anything, let me know. Patras is happy to help you."

There were others who approached, either those who had known him from before or those in his own faction, with questions and suspicions he continuously had to lay to rest.

Damen did not approach, though Laurent could feel his eyes on him. He didn't know if Damen was avoiding Laurent or the regiment of soldiers who hated Damen for killing Auguste. Either way, it was a good, surprisingly strategic move on Damen's part, and Laurent was glad of it. Really. He was. They could talk later.

It was a while before later came. While Laurent trusted Jord to keep the men in line as they set up camp just outside the gates, he wanted to make himself a very visible and clear presence. He helped where he was needed, as he had on the ride from Acquitart. He wasn't anyone's friend, but they trusted him to do his part, and that was enough.

Afterward, he went to see the Patran physician Vassil, who pronounced him fit enough, though he was obviously still annoyed at how hard Laurent had been pushing himself when his shoulder wasn't even entirely cured. Fair, but unlikely to change. At least Vassil had taken the reveal of his true identity in stride. He supposed once you'd learned of one King in hiding, a second wasn't nearly as surprising.

And then he had to get himself settled, which meant finally entering the keep. Despite having been mutilated, Marlas felt haunted to him as he walked through its halls. This was where his final memories of Auguste and their father were, and then those horrible days after. By the time he reached his rooms, he was tense and edgy.

He should have listened to Ismene. She was often kinder to him than he was to himself.

Well, there was no point in 'should have' now. He entered the rooms that had been set aside for him. Most of his unpacking had already been done by servants--free now, he knew. It was an odd jolt. He'd become used to handling his own things in Akielos.

There, sprawled on the bed, lay Damen, reading a book. And clothed, which Laurent wasn't sure was a relief or a disappointment.

When he saw Laurent, he looked up and rolled on his side, propping himself up with his elbow. "Hello, lover."

The words tipped him over to annoyance. "Couldn't wait for me to get settled?"

Damen's expression fell and he sat up, putting the book aside. "Laurent, I've been waiting over a week. I thought you were dead."

Of course. Damen was trying to be playful, and Laurent had missed it entirely. He really was in a mood, wasn't he. He should have stayed at the camp with his men--another useless thought. He must be tired. He spread his hands and gestured toward himself. "Not yet."

"Nor is Nicaise. I'm glad. I missed you both." He stood up and crossed the room, reaching out hesitantly. "What happened? I know the Regent wasn't there."

"No," he agreed. "But Govart was. Our time at Fortaine was very diverting." He reached back toward Damen, taking his hand. "Nicaise acquitted himself very well."

Damen scowled and pulled Laurent closer. "I should have hit him harder with the chair when I had the chance. Did he hurt you again?" He ran his free hand down Laurent's side, pressing down gently, frowning whenever he noticed Laurent wincing. "Did he hurt Nicaise?"

"No," Laurent said with grim satisfaction. He'd managed that much, at least, in encouraging him to leave while Govart was distracted. "He had already managed his escape by the time Govart remembered he was there."

Damen finally smiled. "He's a clever child. I'm not surprised he did well." He cocked an eyebrow. "And you?"

"I'm not bleeding nearly as badly this time."

"That's not as comforting as you might think. Show me." He reached for the laces at the back of Laurent's neck and frowned. "Your clothes are ridiculous."

"My clothes are fine." Regretfully, he brushed Damen's fingers away from his laces. "I'll show you later. I wasn't making an innuendo when I said we had matters to discuss."

Damen dropped his hands, still looking concerned. "I thought you wanted to wait until you were settled."

"Now is as good a time as any. I wanted to speak with you in private first anyway." He fixed his gaze on Damen's. "As we left Fortaine, the captain of my guard told me of an Akielon raid on the village of Breteau--a very recent attack."

Damen's brows pinched together. "I'm still catching up on the mess Kastor left me, but that sounds familiar. It was Makedon's people, in response to an attack on the Akielon village of Tarasis."

There was the missing piece. He hadn't wanted to hope there was a provoking incident, but it would make it slightly easier for his men to swallow. "We need to speak together, unequivocally, about an end to these raids."

Damen nodded. "Agreed. But it will take some convincing. There's a lot of hatred on both sides, and too many want a war."

"I know. We still need to do it. You saw how my men were when we arrived. It wasn't only about Auguste."

Damen gave a sharp little exhale and turned, pacing the room as he thought. "We'll need to give them an incentive for peace. Something they want more than each other's blood." There was an odd, strained note in Damen's voice. Laurent remembered that he was not the only one who'd lost an older brother now.

"If you have any ideas, I'm open to them. I was going to threaten public and painful execution."

Damen barked out a laugh, though it sounded more strained than amused. That was fine, though, there wasn't much amusing about the situation. "It's a solid start, but Veretians hire clan raiders to do their fighting for them. It's harder to pin blame that way."

Laurent gave him a thin smile. "And here I thought you'd never learn how to speak diplomatically. Thank you. That answers one of my questions. And the solution to that is simple enough, too. Any man found connected to such raids would share the fate of those he hired."

"I can be very diplomatic when I want to be." He flashed Laurent a dimpled grin. "Surely you've noticed I'm good with my mouth."

Laurent felt some heat come into his cheeks at the memory. "I might recall something to that effect."

Damen snagged his hand again and pulled him closer. "Don't worry, it's not my go-to strategy. Only for you." A beat. "And a lot of Vaskian women. Maybe it is my go-to strategy." He blinked, frowning. "Should I have fucked Torveld? It suddenly doesn't seem fair."

He bit down on a smile as he allowed himself to be pulled in. "I'm sure he'd appreciate it. He apologized for trying to buy me."

"Good." Damen's expression darkened and he wrapped his arms around Laurent. He pressed his lips to the top of Laurent's head. "I did tell him you weren't for sale."

"So did I." He leaned a little into the embrace, slipping his own arms around Damen. He knew he couldn't allow himself to be soft anywhere else, but Damen drew it out of him effortlessly. He'd have to watch himself for that.

Damen rested his chin on Laurent's head. His body was warm against Laurent's, big and protective. Even if that last part was just a feeling, not a guarantee. "Anyway, executions are a good incentive, but it also would make sense to establish trade between our country. I know there's demand for Veretian steel and Veretian wine. And there's at least one cloth merchant I bet we could talk into expanding his route."

"I wasn't being facetious when I talked to him about Akielon embroidery and Veretian fashion. I think there will be demand, if we can get our people to stop killing each other."

Damen laughed, pressing his face into Laurent's hair. "You never stop surprising me. How do you know so much about the Veretian and Akielon fashion industries anyway?"

"I'm Veretian," he pointed out, unable to hold back his own smile. "How would I not know about fashion?"

"Well, if you listen to Nicaise speak about you…"

He laughed softly. "First of all, Nicaise would agree with me. I caught him admiring some of the embroidery back in Ios, and that's part of what inspired me. Second–I could never even begin to approach his encyclopedic understanding of fashion and what looks good on people, and he knows it."

"The only person I've seen keep up with him is Jokaste, and there's a friendship that should terrify everybody." Damen sounded more amused than anything else. "We're lucky they're on our side."

"We are." Laurent felt a slight twinge of guilt when he considered how long he'd suspected Jokaste of turning on them. He didn't think he'd been wrong, but she had wound up on their side nonetheless. She had nowhere else to go, now. He wondered how she was faring.

Damen pulled back a bit, enough to look at Laurent, though not enough that either of them would have to let go. "Anything else we should discuss now? Things just between us."

Laurent shook his head. The raid had been foremost on his mind as something they needed to deal with before they could move on to anything else. He knew the handful of Veretians he'd brought wouldn't stand down until there was some resolution. This was a start.

He ran his thumbs absently along Damen's back. What he wanted to say next would be harder, but he knew Damen needed to hear it. No matter how much the petty, bitchy part of him wanted to remain silent and let him suffer. He pushed it all down and met Damen's eyes.

"I'm sorry about Kastor."

The effect the words had on Damen was immediate. He… crumpled. His shoulders slumped, his head drooping forward, his arms squeezing tighter around Laurent. "He betrayed me," Damen said, his voice rough with emotion. "He stole my crown and tried to kill me."

"He was your brother."

"Yes." He swallowed. "I thought… I thought I might be getting through to him. That I might not have to kill him. But then the Regent--"

Laurent doubted that Damen had been getting through to him. Someone willing to kill his own brother--or have him dragged to his enemies in chains, as Jokaste had told him--was unlikely to change his mind after what would have been a very brief conversation. He didn't say so, though. Damen wanted to believe the best of Kastor. It didn't hurt anything to let him.

The mention of his uncle drew a soft, bitter exhalation from him. "I'm sure he waited until the moment it would be the most painful to interfere."

"He seemed to think I'd ally with him. Like there was any way I'd ever ally myself with him." He shifted his grip and pulled Laurent even more firmly against him. "Even if my loyalty weren't already with the true King of Vere, even if I didn't know everything he'd done, what sort of fool would ally with a man who stabs his own allies in the back? Does he truly think I'm that foolish?"

There was a reason for the offer, Laurent was sure. It just probably wasn't what it appeared to be. "He wanted to twist the knife," he said, and that was almost certainly one reason. "Take your brother from you, your chance for revenge if that was what you had wanted, and then remind you that you couldn't go to war over it."

Damen was quiet for a long moment. "I don't think I've said it before, and I'm not sure you even want to hear it, but. I'm sorry. I know it doesn't change what I've done."

"It doesn't." Nothing could change the past. "I don't know if I want to hear you apologize for it." He kept his arms around Damen, despite his own conflicting emotions. "Thank you, though."

Damen pressed a kiss to the top of Laurent's head. "I think sometimes of how it could have been if we'd never been to war. If I could have courted you properly."

He snorted. "Is that what would have happened?" It was hard to imagine anyone seeing past Auguste to him. Even Damen.

Damen pulled back just enough to meet his eyes and smile. "You know it is." He leaned in to kiss him.

He shook his head a little, but didn't move away, tilting his face up to kiss back. That sounded like a much simpler world, and he honestly wished they could live there.

Behind them, the door opened, and Jord stepped in. "Your Highness," he said. Damen looked up, clearly annoyed at the intrusion, and Laurent heard the slide of steel as Jord drew his blade. "Unhand him now, Prince-Killer!"