the dead don't stay buried

The wireless sang with slow, brass band music as the fire crackled in the small hearth of their rented room somewhere on the continent. They had been traipsing all over Europe that Maisy was starting to lose track of what country they were in-

Or maybe it was the wine.

She put down the goblet and turned, padding across the carpet with her skirts swishing around her thighs. Isaac was in the wide, wingback chair by the covered window, trying to read by the light of a single candle. She approached slowly, taking in the play of light over his face, wondering when he had become so beautiful to her. What was the moment he had gone from her colleague to the most important person in her life?

It made her anxious she couldn’t pin point it. Surely something so momentous should have been noticeable.

He didn’t look up from his book as she stood there but his lips quirked.

“Captain,” she said sweetly, a sing song lilt in her tone. “Oh, Captain.”

He turned the page of his book with agonizing slowness, still refusing to look up. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, and little interest in her or the music, although she knew that was a lie.

“Hmm?”

The smile snuck across her lips as she sashayed a little closer. She placed a palm over the pages then took the book from his hands and folded it face down on the table.

She held out an expectant hand.

“I want you to dance with me, Captain.”

His dark eyes were warm as they looked up at her. “I’m not much of a dancer, and this isn’t much of a dance hall.”

She wasn’t about to let him off that easily. She tugged on his hands, prepared to pull him up if necessary and pleased when he easily came to his feet.

“But for this instance," he mused. "I suppose I can make an exception.”

"Yes, you will," she laughed as she tugged him across the rug and closer to the wireless. She slid her hands around the small of his back just as his hands settled against her waist and they fell into the lazy sway of the dance together so easily as though they had done this a million times before. Maisy had no qualms about leaning into him as they danced. His lips brushed her cheek and she sighed happily, savouring the moment even as she tried to push down the chatter of her thoughts that kept reminding her their time like this was limited.

Their mission was almost over and soon, her finger would be bare once again.

Without thinking, her arms tightened around his waist and she turned her face away lest he see the devastation written across it.

“Thank you,” she said softly. It wasn't enough. She wanted to say so much more but the words were stuck too deeply inside her.

"Oh, please,” the King scoffs. A telling smile plays across his lips. “You've been by my side since they were infants. They adore you and you them. They're as much yours as mine."

Mason takes a moment to digest that. It’s true when he looks back on the twin princess’s childhood, he is a strong feature in them. It’s their father he loves the most. His King and Sovereign, but most of all – a good man who has held Mason’s heart in his hand since the moment Mason stepped through the castle’s gilded gates and he had laid eyes on the young King.

It hadn’t stopped him from planting the royal’s face into the dirt a few days later, slicked with sweat and bare chested. The Order of the Sunless Path had been the only thing Mason had known – trained since he was a child to fight and dance along a blade, heralding death wherever he went. His order was revered and mysterious and Mason had long resigned himself to giving his life to it, until the King had asked for it instead.

Mason goes to where Isaac is sitting tiredly by the stone window, the view beyond illuminated in silver shadows by the twin moons wanning overhead. He places his hands on the King’s shoulders and presses his chest to the other man’s back. He can feel the tension in his shoulders that never really leaves – the weight of a kingdom bearing down on him. They had lived in peace for almost ten years now, but Mason knew there was every chance a war was coming.

And if he knew, so did the King.

He presses a kiss to the side of the King’s neck before he speaks, smiling against the tiny shiver his touch creates. “It means a lot to hear you say that.” He presses another kiss, regretful. He’s bit his tongue until now but he can’t stay silent anymore. On most things, he saw eye to eye with his king, the keeper of his heart, but in this, he feared they may clash. “But it only makes what I have to say all the more important."

Isaac doesn't answer, just continues staring out over the bustling city and the parapets beyond. The city within the castle walls teems with life even at this late hour. Mason tries not to wonder if the princess is out there, skulking through the shadows with her druid companions… or her warrior knight.

“Your daughters are princesses,” Mason begins, wrapping his arms around Isaac from behind. It’s cowardly to say this at his back but Mason hopes his embrace somehow softens the blow. “- the court already expects much of them. Of you. They're almost of age now. It's going to be expected that you move on that. And soon."

"I won't use my children as political pawns, Mason. Not like I was. I want them to have the freedom to choose."

"I know, Zac," Mason uses the private nickname he has for him that no-one else ever hears - he's not trying to talk to Isaac as his liege right now, just his lover. "But Lucia and Ser Ryan... Have you seen them together?"

He has, Mason knows he has. The fierce intensity the youngest princess has for the knight almost ten years her senior borders on obsessive. And Ser Ryan was doing little to dissuade her.

"Lucia has always been... different,” Isaac answers finally. “She has little love of court life, always preferring to be with her herbs.” Isaac’s voice grows slightly distant. “Sometimes I wonder if allowing her to spend so much time with the druids was too indulgent of me."

"It's not the druids that are her focus now. Ser Ryan is one of your best warriors but...” Mason tries to choose his words carefully. He doesn’t want to question his king, but as the king’s lover, he wonders if he is privy to things the King can’t – or won’t – see. “Is he really the best suitor for a princess? He has no lands, no title-"

Isaac barks a laugh and the force of it causes Mason to release him from his embrace in surprise. Isaac turns away from the window. "Oh, he has lands. He just refuses to acknowledge them. And every title I have offered, he's rejected. He has nothing to offer Lucia but himself. And she wants him anyway. He has no desire for anything else - not her title, her lands-"

It slowly dawns on Mason that Isaac is far more across this than he realised. Of course he is. There's little that goes on in this court and his kingdom that the king isn't aware of.

"A true love match," Mason murmurs and Isaac inclines his head. Mason thinks of the Queen, his thoughts churning. Clarity ensues. "Like you never had."

Isaac's expression softens at Mason’s understanding and Mason steps close to pull Isaac back into his arms. They share a kiss, part apology and part relief on Mason’s side and all muted passion on Isaac’s.

Isaac dropped the datapad to the surface of his desk with a clatter. He looked tired, the top buttons of his uniform undone and his hair messed from running his hands through it. Mason wished he could have been the reason for it, instead they were back on the Berlin, once again taking orders from the top brass and none of them good.

Mason didn’t know where this left them.

“I was thinking,” Isaac started, leaning back against the edge of his desk. “Instead of parting ways, what would you say to remaining together. As… as an actual married couple for both our sakes?”

Mason’s hearing was better than good but for a brief moment, he wondered if he needed to see the team about a diagnostic.

Isaac couldn’t be saying what he thought he was saying… was he?

“What? Was that a proposal?”

Isaac regarded him calmly, his tone measured. Unflappable. “I told you from the start, Mason. I’m not interested in just… a fling.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “And I told you I wasn’t either. I was playing for keeps, Zac.”

“Then keep me. Marry me, Mason. Fuck, this… So wasn’t exactly how I had planned to ask you.”

Mason was acutely aware of the room they were in, back on the Berlin, surrounded by the weight of Isaac’s Alliance commitments. Their planet side interlude had been sheer magic and Mason had thrown himself head first over the cliff only to land securely in Isaac’s arms. They’d built on whatever simmering attraction had been there from the beginning – and Mason could admit that now, that it had always been there, masquerading as respect and admiration for the Captain’s capable leadership but in reality so much more. But now, called back to duty, the cold touch of the Alliance had left him frozen in time and unsure of his place.

The war was over, Isaac had been promoted for Admiral and the phoenix rehabilitation program to be scaled back and disbanded.

Mason wasn’t sure where that left him.  He was a relic now, of the world before, and while the Alliance had been willing to overlook his past affiliations with the Cerberus organization, he was expecting them to call in their chips now.

In all likelihood, they would rip him far away from Isaac and he’d been trying to prepare himself for that.

“Marry you,” Mason breathed, closing his eyes to savour the thought – just for a moment. The possibility hadn’t been one he could let himself think about. His last marriage had been a shambles. “Isaac…”

Isaac glanced away, as though knowing where mason’s thoughts had gone. His mouth pursed but then he turned back and offered Mason the smallest, saddest smile.

“I’ve only ever asked one other person this question, Mase. I meant it then but she died. And for a long time, for a really long time, I didn’t let myself think I could ever ask it again. But with you… I want it. I want you to marry me and stay beside me. Make all the things we talked about on the farm a reality.”

“But the Alliance-“

“I’ll protect you. They want to make me an Admiral? Fine, but that means they’re not going to fucking touch my husband- phoenix or not.”

Mason’s breath hitched in spite of himself. “Say that again.”

The curve of Isaac’s mouth was beautiful as he straightened. His hand found Mason’s jaw. He held him in place and tilted Mason’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet and Mason… Mason saw their future there in those brown eyes.

“Husband,” Isaac said firmly. “If you’ll have me.”

Mason curled his fingers around Isaac’s wrist, squeezing gently. He felt dampness prick at the corners of his eyes and he wondered how he could be so lucky. How did he deserve this? Isaac was everything. “I love you,” he said hoarsely. “I love you, Isaac. I love you with every fibre of my being. I’m saying yes because I want a life with you. Not because I’m afraid to face anything the Alliance wants to throw at me.”

Isaac’s thumb brushed over his cheek, smiling. There were galaxies in his eyes Mason wanted to lose himself in. “I know. And whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I’m not letting you go.”

Mason slid his hands around Isaac’s hips and drew him in close. He breathed Isaac in, the scent of his aftershave and the hint of his hair gel he only bothered with on duty familiar and comforting now that he knew they would be together. The Alliance could try taking Isaac on, but they would lose.

“You and me?”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ, Zac.

Where the fuck are you?

I'm coming to get you right fucking now.