*

“that can be arranged, baby boy.” he said with a quick wink, clapping inigo’s shoulder with his free hand. “you hurry up and finish that drink, and i’ll get you out of that old robe in no time.” dominic found himself fiercely proud that the prince would stand here and make jokes with him; a part of him silently grateful he’d finally gotten the man to open up. the king had always been close with willow, and even he and avianna had their spells of… intimacy. but for a long time, inigo remained a quiet, stoic mystery. someone dominic knew he would like, if only the young prince ever let him in.

he ran a thumb along the rim of his chalice, eyes dancing with amusement as they stood and talked — idly watching the prettier partygoers as they moved with abandon. aura knew how to throw a party, dominic would give them that. there were lords and ladies present tonight that he’d never even heard of before. 

“SO how have you been spending your time these days?” he asked, eyes trained on a specific aurian duchess, who’s corset was particularly tight fitting that evening. “i’ve not been back to eden in months.”

“you’re such a temptress at this hour.” inigo teased, shaking his head in mock disapproval, all the while nonchalantly emptying his chalice and motioning for a refill with a playful glint in his eyes. “but you’ve got my attention.” there was a time not terribly long ago where dominic’s presence stupefied inigo; he initially figured it’d been the ever-daunting status of kingship paralyzing his questionable sociability, but it proved to be the existence of a person that seemed so grossly opposite to him. nature had given them non-collinear priorities, and who were they to disrupt that notion? alas, despite their intrinsic differences they continuously happened to cross paths, eventually forging an odd friendship, something. . . fluid and nonjudgmental that was once unbeknownst to inigo.

the crowd bored him. duchesses sparsely occupied his mind, worriment frequently plaguing him in regards to his garden in place of their slender forms and warm, seductive gazes. he was faithfully bound to home, even when attending a prestigious and invigorating gathering in another kingdom.

“how i’ve always spent it. poorly. eden’s fairing well, though.” he answered, emitting a sigh under his breath. he never had anything interesting to say. the men and women populating the ballroom were of varying stations, however inigo felt it safe to bet that collectively, they harbored countless lifetimes worth of stories. most days, he didn’t think he had enough for twenty-four years. “and you? i’m keen to hear your updated list of conquests and casualties.”

“that depends, in this hypothetical does the prince have your tight ass — ?” he joked, in such a loud manner it was clear dominic had little to consume that night aside from mead and cherry wine. a laugh sprawled from the pit of his stomach, as his words drew the attention of the surrounding partygoers. they quickly looked away of course, none wanting to be singled out by the pair; but the damage had been done. dominic tried to stifle the smirk on his face. an out and out failure, of course. 

“i don’t consider it to be any particular cause for celebration myself, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself, inigo.” he said, and despite his drunken disposition, actually meant it. “certainly it’ll make the night go by faster.”

a bent elbow made sharp contact with the king’s ribs as inigo withheld a bashful grimace, wishing to display a fraction of his resilience. “gods’ blood. you’re such a prick,” he chided in between spouts of laughter. it was funny, but the lingering eyes had forced inigo into deep introspection. nervous heat spread throughout his palms, a thin film of sweat rising to the surface, and he hastily rubbed them against his cloak. the less people assumed, the better. that required he remain casual inside and out, which was becoming increasingly hard in dominic’s company, who needn’t try to appear natural: he simply was. it both agitated and intrigued inigo.

“i could enjoy myself with you, if you wouldn’t so crudely objectify me.” he feigned hurt in a softened voice. while pleasure was a far cry from what he could imagine occurring that night, it wasn’t an unwelcome thought. “i’m not a tavern wench. you’ll have to bring me at least two more cups full if you want that much out of me.”

 LOGAN LERMAN, CIS MALE  — ON YOUR KNEES, that’s INIGO MOREAU ! You really don’t recognize them? They’re  TWENTY FOUR ,  EDEN’S BELOVED  PRINCE . Ring a bell? Usually  HE  is known to be quite  BENEVOLENT  and  COWARDLY . But if need be, simply call them the  SACCHARINE . Now keep your head down, they’re looking this way!