lost. lost. lost.

            ONE  BY  ONE  ,  they  become  bare  with  one  another  ,  unable  to  be  anything  other  than  their  true  selves  .  he  finds  it  poetic  ,  to  see  clive  in  their  truest  form  and  glory  ,  to  be  lucky  enough  to  loom  over  the  other  .  becoming  one  page  ,  one  painting  ,  colors  mixing  together  to  form  a  masterpiece  .  and  yet  ,  nicholas  knew  that  would  always  be  ,  was  always  destined  to  be  so  beautiful  .  they  are  ,  so  ...  so  beautiful  .  soon  ,  as  anticipated  ,  there  is  one  undergarment  that  separates  the  king  from  eyeing  his  lover  disrobed  and  it’s  with  haste  that  he  acts  .  a  quick  yank  and  a  rip  is  all  it  takes  .  he  means  to  apologize  ,  for  being  so  greedy  ,  but  a  tug  has  them  entirely  naked  before  him  and  he  can’t  focus  on  anything  else  .  nicholas  will  apologize  later  .  still  resting  atop  of  clive  ,  the  king  leans  back  on  his  knees  to  admire  such  a  glorious  view  .  it  takes  him  a  moment  to  speak  ,  in  complete  awe  .    ❝    you  are  a  masterpiece  ...    ❞    words  slip  out  before  he  can  even  put  them  together  in  his  thoughts  .  then  ,  with  the  bare  of  their  chests  touching  as  nick  rests  forward  again  ,  he  kisses  them  most  passionately  and  slow  .

            THE  WORLD  AROUND  THEM  is  a  blur  ,  with  only  the  delightful  ,  delicious  sound  of  their  pleasant  hums  to  fill  the  air  .  nicholas  is  convinced  he  has  done  something  right  in  this  life  ,  or  perhaps  a  previous  one  ,  to  have  such  a  magnificent  moment  such  as  this  one  .  hands  roaming  over  their  body  ,  pressing  into  patches  of  bare  skin  and  teasing  where  undergarments  still  remain  .  the  butterflies  in  nick’s  stomach  have  turned  into  something  else  entirely  and  there’s  a  heartbeat  not  only  in  his  chest  now  ,  but  further  south  .  their  sudden  turn  has  the  king  gasping  ,  though  satisfied  with  their  matching  appearances  of  splotchy  blushing  ,  seeable  even  through  powdered  pale  cheeks  .  a  victorious  smile  dawns  on  his  lips  ,  chest  huffing  with  a  laugh  .  oh  ,  how  he  sees  the  world  in  their  eyes  and  can’t  help  but  drown  in  their  gaze  .

FOND WORDS, the bridge between clive and the king, nicholas, their heart, tethering them together in a moment sweeter than a cherry dessert. hums at his highness mixing pigment with a touch, gentle, eyes heavy in adoration. “no,” they say decidedly, a small smile settling into place. all for him. “you’ve made me beautiful.” 

the flinch in grip from nick comes as waves of relief, pools of it, oceans of it. and clive might be feeling emotion in whole bodies of water! it’s all so much so fast, crashing into nicholas with this fast-paced yearning! so they can’t quite help the stuttering sound pushed from the threshold of a smudged white throat, a sound for him, wanting him, asking for him. a thankful sound, even. please, they think, never take your hands off of me. “i’ll only ever sing for you, my heart, this i promise.” they say, whimsy, hips subtly swiveling and letting out a withheld breath once that touch is gone. 

eyes find moving, working fingers, then into sight comes the stark of nick’s chest where clive is becoming a gaping, adoring shell of their usual theatrics. hands, hesitant, reach to touch. my stars, so hairy, so mighty. at the question, they’re snapped from their attempted exploration. their eyes meet his, bright with an idea. “my universe,” cups either side of his neck, beckoning him forward, backward steps. “i’m an entertainer by nature, you see,” they explain, urging his highness to take a seat on the side of the bed. clive slots between his sitting legs, and pushes the strap of their gown down one pale shoulder, teasing, face all delicately smug. “..and i’ve shown off for many men and women, all decent, none as beautiful as you.” certain, clive reaches for nick’s wrists, brings them to the curve of where hips and waist meet, urging him to feel them up and around, gown hitching with it. “i’ve unraveled at the thought of you, oh, it’s so embarrassing — in my dreams, you take me by my hips, you, all vivid and clear and set on what you want, and you make me yours that way.” clive picks up a sway in their hips like a leaf riding a breeze, back and forth as if to a tune but the room is only alive with the melody of their words and breaths. clive turns around as they sway in place, begins humming a song, somewhat hoarse. the second strap is pushed over the cliff of white, round, and the soft of the gown falls and halts at clive’s hips where the material tightens a smidge.

roisin had never been one interested in politics. even as a child she would daydream during lessons, barely able to remember the content. it had exasperated her father- the duke was an ever erudite man. he was the most ambitious and loyal man roisin had ever met; willing to do anything for his king and country. the duke and duchess had spent much of roisin’s childhood at court, while she and her siblings were raised on her family estates. even when young, queenship had never been something she had dreamed of. instead her daydreams included being a renowned artist, perhaps as a duchess or marchioness, with a family of her own.  

looking at her husband, she wondered how this had become her life. it was nearly otherworldly. sometimes it was as if she were living someone else’s life. she was a queen- no the queen of aura. she could have never imagined such a life for herself. “if you say so.” she tilted her head at him. “if i can do anything to make it more enjoyable, do tell.”

she frowned slightly at his sigh. “would you consider the festival a gift?” she glanced around them, and then up at the starry sky. “i suppose many have considered it a gift from the gods.” it was a sight to behold, in all truthfulness, but roisin wondered how truly holy it was.

            A  QUICK  NOD  and  a  hidden  smile  ,  nicholas  reaches  for  his  wife’s  hand  .  a  kind  gesture  and  one  of  reassurance  ,  nothing  more  .  his  lips  press  against  the  back  of  her  hand  as  his  eyes  glance  up  into  her’s  .  nothing  is  wrong  ,  they  plead  .  will  she  believe  him  ?  it  doesn’t  matter  ,  in  the  end  ,  but  to  keep  her  blissfully  unaware  of  what  he  does  in  their  time  apart  ...  nicholas  hopes  she  will  .    ❝    thank  you  ,  roisin  .    ❞    sentiment  for  so  many  things  .  it  seems  untimely  to  call  her  his  ,  appearances  be  damned  .  those  nicknames  ,  to  call  one  his  heart  or  his  sweetness  ,  are  no  longer  reserved  for  her  .  even  to  pretend  would  be  wrong  . 

            ❝    in  truth  ?  not  i  ,  no  .    ❞    the  king  catches  a  glimpse  of  his  people  and  those  from  other  kingdoms  ,  enjoying  their  evening  among  the  best  the  kingdoms  have  to  offer  .  to  them  ,  he  wouldn’t  doubt  it’s  a  gift  --  a  time  of  celebration  and  ease  after  such  a  nightmare  .  nicholas  ,  in  part  ,  is  grateful  for  the  distraction  but  not  at  the  cost  of  painful  memories  .    ❝    i  am  glad  there  are  those  who  find  joy  in  the  festivities  ,  as  i  am  sure  they  think  of  this  as  more  than  a  gift  ,  but  i  am  not  one  of  them  .  after  everything  these  few  weeks  ,  i  would  like  to  be  home  .    ❞    his  words  are  quiet  ,  as  to  not  offend  bystanders  ,  but  nicholas  can’t  hide  his  emotions  with  her  .  not  ones  that  are  so  obvious  and  often  shown  directly  ,  anyhow  .    ❝    i’m  sorry  ,  i  know  you  wish  i  had  said  more  ...  positive  things  .    ❞

TURNED AROUND AND things are quite sweetened, tooth-achingly by a requited goal, adoration, thriving in awaited lonesome, longing meeting with its loveliest resolve. so the stars have returned to clive’s eyes but they only reflect his highness, perhaps he is made of them! all forgiving and sincere. made up of all purities unmatched with gossip and stigma. clive wonders, how differently the people would feel should they have the opportunity, the blessing, to see his majesty in such a state; wiped clean of guilt if only for now, and faced with the pleasure of connection. clive takes his words and stores them away in their mind, keeps them close, even if some cannot be registered completely. it was the kind words of affection they had always wanted, and upon receiving, can’t seem to fully digest as if a sour but hearty sunday meal. clive will try their very best. 

met with fleshy passion, clive hums sugary into the kiss they shared. a gift, clive thinks, my most treasured gift. they open up promptly for him, all smooth slides and instances of marrying breath. to be kissed by nick was to be seen, was to be beautiful, was to be cared for in the small frame of time they had known and adored and courted each other in pure infatuation. to be explored, like this, all wet heat and sincerity. when they part, it’s agonizing but clive’s eyes on the king’s kissed flush was a new sort of gift. they exhale heavily, and the invitation spreads out a breathy smile across clive’s milky white, smudged expression. a hand then lifts to smooth along the skin of this sweet man’s cheek, holding. “nothing has yet to hold a candle to your beauty and grace, my nicholas. you are well suited to make even gods green with envy,” said amidst a mild, fluttering chuckle. another sweet twist of a kiss before clive parts them, gaze wavering. “my sweet king, so handsome, you promised fruit and now i would like to offer my own,” a hand finds itself wrapped around the king’s wrist, guiding, to the mid-front of clive’s gown. they attempt to meet his eyes then, “..have you dreamt of touching me, your highness? —or perhaps, in your dreams, i am touching you,”

            TIME  ,  WHICH  MARCHES  FORWARD  ,  suddenly  spins  around  them  and  regardless  of  not  knowing  what  occurs  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  door  ,  it  seems  as  if  all  time  has  stopped  for  them  .  slow  motion  as  nicholas  takes  his  precious  time  ,  getting  to  know  every  inch  of  clive  that  he  has  yet  to  meet  .  namely  ,  for  the  moment  ,  their  mouth  .  plush  ,  bright  lips  met  by  a  king’s  hunger  for  more  .  and  he’ll  take  what  he  can  get  ,  every  second  more  special  than  the  last  .  even  parting  the  small  distance  that  they  do  ,  nick  is  left  to  pout  --  but  redness  overcomes  him  and  soon  ,  a  smile  replaces  said  pout  .  the  compliments  only  further  his  complexion’s  color  ,  but  his  stomach  is  filled  with  butterflies  .  to  be  anyone’s  ,  other  than  a  king  is  a  gift  he  has  never  known  .  a  gift  he  loves  very  much  so  .  a  finger  is  lifted  to  swollen  lips  ,  smudged  with  whites  and  reds  as  nicholas  tries  to  fix  the  portrait  he’s  painted  .  perhaps  he  is  an  artist  after  all  !    ❝    i’ve  ...  i’ve  completely  smudged  this  ,    ❞    a  nervous  chuckle  followed  by  bashful  giggles  .  

DETERIORATED BLISS falls away fast like wilting petals. it’s the cruel demise of an often fragile sense of one’s self, thin like tea china, like a breeze cut clean through by the wings of a hawk. they had chased their own tail in dizzying reluctance, and now they have stained bliss itself. foolish! foolish, foolish! horror unfolds and cracks like a powdered shell on clive’s face, splitting them, tearing them in two before the king. clive had ripped their own seams when they were not prompted to, and such a mess ensued. nicholas had turned their brooding diffidence into an arrow through the thick of his own chest, oh dear, “oh no, no — that is, oh dear, nicholas. you are FAR from cruel, i .. i felt i was doing you a kindness. you must forgive my mind. this is just what i have known, you see, and i — “ a high breath hiccuped inwards, clive is growing overwhelmed now. head is shaking, oh disbelief! in themselves, in the room, in their dwindling audacity. 

clive cups the soft of nick’s neck, their voice is broken and bordering on hysterics. the shine in nick’s eyes feels like a twisting knife, and clive finds themselves mirroring him. “please hear me, my heart,” they begin. “please, i regret to ask you for sympathy; my, i feel like a beggar — we were not all bred with such plump fruit and reassurance. this has been hard for me, you see, and i feel conflicted. but you have been most kind and gentle with me, your highness,” a chaste peck to his jaw, “and i want to accept your affections, no interruptions! i will work hard at it and i will be better.” clive’s hands drop as arms wrap around his majesty’s waist, pulling him in and gazing upward at beauty itself, hurt. “i think of you as the universe, my nicholas,” they say, assure, dreamy. “would you look at that? i am holding the universe!” gleeful eyes squint as a toothy grin blossoms, and clive feels something worrisome subside. it would be their priority to live presently, and abandon such thoughts of grief and disbelief. “my universe, will you forgive me? and will i be beautiful for you once more? and could you stand to look at me now?”

            PANIC  THREATENS  TO  DROWN  HIMSELF  as  a  moment  passes  .  the  few  seconds  of  silence  between  them  is  deafening  .  nicholas  hears  his  heartbeat  in  his  ears  and  must  remind  himself  to  breathe  .  had  he  been  so  foolish  ?  to  think  anyone  could  look  past  the  crown  he  wore  ?  the  vision  of  a  fantasy  has  been  cracked  and  nick  finds  himself  desperate  to  repair  it  .  his  face  twists  into  even  more  of  an  offense  at  the  mention  of  a  kindness  .    ❝    that’s  not  a  kindness  !  i  don’t  want  to  leave  you  !    ❞    a  tear  falls  as  he  speaks  and  it’s  wiped  away  as  soon  as  it  had  appeared  .  more  than  anything  ,  he’s  frustrated  .  all  he  wants  is  for  the  other  to  see  themselves  how  nick  sees  them  --  perfectly  beautiful  and  kind  .  their  stations  matter  not  to  him  and  whatever  obstacles  they  face  will  be  worth  it  .  to  him  , at  least  ,  would  they  agree  ?  the  way  he  feels  toward  clive  is  overpowering  enough  to  have  nick  be  impulsive  and  greedy  .  he  just  hopes  they  do  see  him  as  he  wishes  to  be  seen  ,  as  a  simple  man  who  wants  to  be  with  them  ,  more  than  anything  .

NICK TAKES WHAT IS HIS, what should be his, everything the universe has to offer if you only asked clive, with grace and a sprinkle of his own theatrics. it’s the clink of his coin and the sharp charm in his step, so alluring, and the grand nature of the room only serves as suitable for a man of nick’s stature. the room is vast in its wooden detailing, so big, so big! clive’s eyes can hardly take it all in. perhaps to his highness, it was just meeting a standard, but clive’s world beyond the square of a stage was four crumbling walls of once white, now eggshell, tainted by life and its careless patrons, torn cloth and antique oddities. this, however, is structured and clean and a reflection of nick’s larger than life existence. nick was all over these walls, clive thinks and thinks and thinks! they’re roaming around with electrified awe and curiousness, daring to sprawl fingers against the sturdy velvet of the curtains and anything shiny and wooden, all caught up. and for a moment, clive feels out of place and slows their movements, tries not to be obvious. 

this doesn’t stop them from turning to nick with a sweet smile, “to be truthful, i had only imagined you and anything else would be a delicious addition. the room.. oh, nicholas,” they begin, something slightly somber and dreamy about it as they’re picking up a pearlescent plate, maybe for delicate jewelry or perhaps fruit, and setting it back down gently. “.. it is most beautiful.” where had this melancholy come from? “delightful, really.” they’ve turned around fully now, padding towards his highness. hands find themselves flat, yearning, against his chest. close now. “i must ask for your honesty; do you find i look out of place here, my nicholas?” clive finds it hard to look directly at him now. oh heavens, he’s a statue of marble in a place quite built for someone closer to his greatness. clive feels much like a soiled painting, that color is far too rich or far too dull. impossible to tell which. “i cannot help this feeling of guilt, my king. i cannot imagine the kind of folk who have bedded here, oh, i’m quite embarrassed, you see. i’m flushing bright under all of this makeup. soon i’ll be damp and ugly.” very unlike the queen and anyone else who might’ve found themselves under nicholas. 

clive takes nick’s hand, then, and presses a kiss to the skin of it. it’s a derail into the familiarity of self-doubt and compensation that felt like a sickly, warm bath. “i will not be upset with you if you choose to stop seeing me after that point, wonderful nicholas. aura has instilled me with an acceptance that will act as my safety net in these trying times —  i have you to thank! but please, i beg, don’t humor me. i have always figured there’s no space for the likes of me in your life, or in this room. say —  we can live out the fantasy until you grow tired of it!”

            NOT  ONE  TO  FREQUENT  INNS  ,  he  is  rather  impressed  by  the  volume  of  the  room  and  the  lengths  to  which  it  has  been  decorated  .  nicholas  had  expected  something  much  tinier  and  unfamiliar  ,  while  the  current  room  does  remind  himself  a  bit  of  home  .  while  there  is  so  much  to  explore  ,  his  gaze  locks  onto  clive  in  fascination  about  their  wonder  .  there  is  only  one  thing  in  the  room  that  has  him  in  awe  and  it  doesn’t  include  decor  !  oh  ,  he  suddenly  finds  himself  eager  to  take  the  other  back  to  aura  for  a  tour  of  the  castle  .  there  is  worry  to  show  clive  his  own  bedchambers  ,  as  it  is  a  room  shared  with  his  wife  ,  but  it’s  so  grand  he  hopes  the  musician  wouldn’t  mind  .  he  beams  with  their  curiosity  ,  happy  to  be  able  to  bestow  such  a  sense  of  amazement  to  them  .  it  must  be  so  much  more  inspiring  to  be  capsuled  in  a  room  like  their  own  when  nothing  of  familiarity  looked  anything  similar  .  in  the  moment  ,  nick  wishes  for  clive’s  status  ,  to  be  a  normal  citizen  with  dreams  of  a  bigger  world  .  what  would  they  think  to  know  nick  has  just  that  ,  but  still  finds  himself  unhappy  ?

            ❝    out  of  place  ?    ❞    the  king  echos  ,  puzzled  by  their  words  .  he’s  not  sure  why  such  a  thing  would  matter  in  the  first  place  ,  as  neither  of  them  live  within  the  inn  .  they  appear  as  they  do  ,  two  people  who  will  enjoy  a  quiet  night  in  each  other’s  company  .  the  more  they  speak  ,  the  more  nicholas’  heart  begins  to  ache  .  a  cheeky  grin  is  replaced  by  pouted  lips  and  furrowed  brows  .  the  second  they  speak  harshly  of  their  appearance  is  when  the  king  extends  a  finger  below  their  chin  and  lifts  their  gaze  to  mirror  nick’s.    ❝    who  has  bedded  here  before  us  matters  not  .  we  belong  here  ,  right  now  ,  and  i’ll  have  no  word  of  you  thinking  otherwise  .  and  i  ...  i  never  want  to  hear  you  call  yourself  that  again  ,  you  hear  me  ?  such  lies  ...    ❞    he  inches  closer  ,  placing  a  peck  to  their  cherried  lips  .  his  lips  linger  on  their’s  ,  hand  moving  to  caress  their  cheek  .

she wonders what he has been up to- if indeed he had joined in on the festivities and the parties- or if he was just saying so in an attempt to appease her. she didn’t allow it to show, however. instead, roisin nodded her head and grinned. “good, you deserve some fun.” it was true. nicholas deserved this short chance at freedom and lacking responsibilities more than anyone roisin knew. he seemed so serious. in such need of having his spirits lifted.

“oh, but where is the fun in simply strolling up?” she asked with a laugh. she hadn’t meant to trample him, but wasn’t going to admit that she had simply tripped. it had been loud and busy, enough to make nearly anyone distracted and unsteady upon their toes. she wasn’t usually one to be clumsy. she was so often the picture of grace, gliding across rooms and dancing in synchronous movement with a partner in a ballroom.  

she was unsure if the festival had her feeling more like herself- or in opposite, unlike herself, than she had in ages. to be anonymous was both freeing and odd. it was fun, she supposed, for a short while. anything longer than the few days it lasted would have her itching for her usual life. for her silk sheets and satin dressing gowns, for her painting room overlooking the gardens, for her life of ease and luxury. “after all, there is no greater gift than attention from you, my king.”

            BOUND  BY  MARRIAGE  and  yet  they  lead  separate  lives  ,  intertwined  together  with  secrets  hidden  underneath  the  surface  .  nicholas  has  always  lived  for  his  duty  and  his  people  ,  but  not  always  clued  his  wife  into  how  he  spends  a  spare  moment  or  thoughts  of  political  strategy  .  he  refuses  to  feel  guilty  or  as  if  he  should  fill  her  in  on  every  detail  ,  leaving  a  healthy  amount  of  mystery  between  the  two  of  them  .  what  roisin  chooses  to  do  in  warm  ,  sunny  afternoons  in  their  home  or  elsewhere  is  her  own  choice  .  he  has  always  been  adamant  on  giving  her  an  independent  freedom  from  himself  and  that  sentiment  won’t  change  because  his  attention  is  being  monopolized  by  another  .

            in  truth  ,  he  is  thankful  for  roisin  .  she  is  someone  he  greatly  admires  and  has  come  to  care  for  in  their  time  together  .  with  any  woman  he  could  have  ended  up  with  after  the  death  of  annabella  ,  roisin  is  a  kind  spirit  who  serves  aura  greatly  as  their  queen  .  however  ,  he’s  never  quite  thought  of  her  as  anything  more  than  a  close  friend  .  a  close  friend  to  have  heirs  with  ?  it’s  surely  complicated  .    ❝    watching  everyone  else  enjoy  the  festival  is  enough  for  me  .    ❞    he  prefers  standing  off  to  the  side  ,  enjoying  the  atmosphere  and  twinkling  night  stars  .

            he  can’t  tell  if  she’s  speaking  genuinely  or  as  to  please  him  .  his  own  demeanor  decides  on  the  latter  and  nick  sighs  .    ❝    there  are  plenty  of  greater  gifts  in  the  world  than  my  attention  ,  i’m  sure  .  this  festival  is  one  of  those  ,  is  it  not  ?    ❞

𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒  𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆  /  @northernsfury

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :  the  center  aisle 

     MINDING  HER  OWN  BUSINESS  WAS  NEVER  ELENA’S  STRONG SUIT.  amidst  the  drunken  merriment  and  drama  of  the  fireflight  festival  ,  elena  thrived.  wherever  she  went  ,  she  liked  to  leave  her  mark  behind  ;  an  emptied  goblet  ,  a  whispered  insult  blamed  on  another  ,  even  a  song  stuck  in  someone’s  head.  all  little  things  but  fun  nonetheless.  

     spotting  the  king  of  aura  in  the  crowd  distracted  her  from  the  small  pockets  of  mischief  she  created.  to  her  current  company  ,  a  couple  she  had  never  met  prior  ,  she  said  ,  “  is  this  wynne  or  imogen?  ”  then  promptly  slunk  off  in  the  direction  of  the  king  while  the  strangers  began  to  argue  (  ‘  who  are  WYNNE  and  IMOGEN?!  ’  ).  nothing  could  shake  the  smirk  that  inched  its  way  onto  her  face.   

     elena  expertly  wound  her  way  through  the  throng  of  people.  she  had  to  admit  this  was  the  first  time  during  the  festival  she  found  herself  sober  which  allowed  for  a  much  easier  time  ducking  past  those  who  were  drunk.  growing  closer  to  the  auran  king  ,  elena  slowed  and  kept  behind him  ,  announcing  her  presence  by  saying  ,  “  i  have  plans  to  journey  to  solis  soon.  i  may  be  able  to  bring  you  back  something  interesting.  ”     

            AURA  IS  A  NEUTRAL  NATION  and  under  nick’s  reign,  such  a  policy  will  never  change.  he  has  no  qualms  about  becoming  invested  in  gossip  or  talk  of  war  while  the  other  kingdoms  remain  subtly  hostile  or  prepared  for  such  an  event  .  if  he  is  faced  with  a  certain  reality  then  his  strategy  will  adjust  ,  but  he’s  done  well  enough  to  plant  seeds  of  solidarity  within  the  nation  .  while  there  is  no  official  allegiance  for  his  kingdom  ,  there  are  ties  that  bind  them  with  others  and  provide  them  a  safety  net  just  in  case  .  nicholas  is  no  fool  and  if  push  comes  to  shove  ,  he  knows  just  how  to  remain  on  his  throne  while  keeping  his  people  safe  .

                 regardless  ,  that  doesn’t  mean  his  ears  aren’t  open  to  what  others  have  been  saying  .  while  he  doesn’t  feed  into  assumptions  ,  there  is  no  trouble  with  knowing  them  and  gaining  a  step  ahead  if  anything  were  to  happen  .  that’s  where  elena  comes  in  --  a  traveling  bard  with  much  to  say  .  while  some  are  convinced  they  would  act  otherwise  ,  nick  knows  anyone  can  be  bought  for  the  right  amount  of  coin  .  it’s  why  he  has  no  worries  about  her  allegiance  to  him  or  her  willingness  to  tell  another  about  their  deal  ...  because  he’ll  pay  more  than  whatever  someone  else  could  bribe  .

                  he  turns  quickly  ,  brows  raised  and  almost  alarmed  by  the  sudden  intrusion  .  ❝    straight  to  business  then  ?    ❞    nick  asks  ,  but  his  attention  lingers  on  what  she’s  just  said  .  solis  ,  the  farthest  away  from  aura  and  understandably  the  least  amount  of  ties  .  with  a  marriage  bound  to  eden  and  a  shared  respect  /  bond  itself  with  the  king  of  acacia  ,  what  does  solis  have  ?    ❝    you  know  my  terms  .  if  you  bring  back  something  worth  hearing  ,  you  will  be  greatly  rewarded  .    ❞

HIS HIGHNESS is ripe with a bashful kindness, and pink like a peach. he speaks of clive as if they are priceless, only right for the change which life grants you gradually and unfit for the kind folks bestow upon those they don’t find personally suitable. clive had always been subject to wishes of change; less makeup, more scruff! less scruff, more lipstick! sing higher! play quieter! with nicholas, there’s a swelling of warmth in clive’s stomach, not nerves, but a comfort once found in the solace of a familiar duvet and under the gaze of a trusted friend. he is kind and forgiving as a king should be in storybooks and naive imaginations. clive does truly believe his highness hangs the sun, moon and stars. tonight they are hung just for them! “i’d come and find you again and again if you ever did,” they say, wistful. but, please, continue to remember me. i fear i shall die if you didn’t bother to try.

for each sweet sound scooped sugary from the king’s throat, clive’s smile grows an inch wider. his kiss is as bold as his status, and clive’s eyes are electrified with excitement. not without bouncing up and down a few times, and cupping his warm cheeks in return, reassuring. “your highness! my nicholas, my heart. anywhere you go, i will follow! did you know i have never known another nicholas with such intimacy? you’re the first and i’ll be certain that you are the last with such fervor!” a smile sent his way, sincere and painted a deep, fleshy, feathery pink. “i know just the inn you speak of. i believe i stopped there once in seek of work..” fingers point and move animatedly with their words. “..you could perhaps guess how that turned out! oh, the luck of me, but it led me here, i suppose. you are much better than scrubbing wooden floors, my nicholas.” said matter of factly, a hand coils around his wrist now. “will you take me there at once?” they ask. “i’m very grateful to and for you, did you know? and i’ve so much to show you —  quickly! we must go!”

            IT’S  SUDDENLY  AS  IF  HE  wants  nothing  more  to  be  their’s  indefinitely  .  the  affectionate  nicknames  have  his  heart  pounding  in  his  chest  and  the  wind  nearly  knocking  the  breath  out  of  nick  .  why  have  a  god  given  name  when  an  angel  has  declared  him  something  so  much  better  ?  he  feels  content  ,  no  ...  happy  in  clive’s  touch  and  would  fight  off  armies  to  stay  in  their  grasp  for  eternity  .  bright  blue  eyes  stare  back  into  the  other’s  ,  a  ghost  of  a  smile  on  his  lips  .  the  king  is  fearful  to  mention  such  a  marvelous  claim  ,  afraid  clive  would  admit  their  mistake  .    ❝    i  did  not  know  that  ,  but  i’m  glad  i  do  now  .  i  have  never  known  another  clive  ,  but  i  can’t  imagine  they  would  be  anything  near  as  talented  and  beautiful  as  you  .    ❞    no  bard  has  ever  been  as  kind  or  as  sweet  as  clive  --  or  anyone  at  all  ,  truly  ,  when  it  comes  to  nicholas  .  roisin  is  charming  and  pleasant  ,  as  a  wife  should  be  ,  but  neither  of  their  hearts  have  ever  belonged  to  the  other  .  he  is  clive’s  heart  ,  just  as  the  other  is  his  .

             ❝    i  am  honored  to  have  been  so  lucky  ,  to  be  here  with  my  clive  .    ❞    it  feels  odd  ,  such  a  sentiment  rolling  from  his  tongue  but  the  king  cannot  stop  smiling  .  he  has  never  felt  this  way  before  ,  to  be  enamored  of  them  .  instead  of  holding  back  and  distancing  himself  in  fear  of  what  could  come  of  their  situation  ,  nicholas  has  decided  to  jump  head  first  .  perhaps  clive  would  catch  him  .    ❝    yes  ,  yes  of  course  !    ❞    enthusiasm  matched  with  their  own  as  nicholas  nearly  skips  in  time  with  his  bard  .    ❝    to  show  me  ?  what  could  you  have  to  show  me  ?    ❞    yet  ,  his  question  is  left  unanswered  as  they  rush  off  to  the  inn  around  the  corner  ,  the  both  of  them  completely  oblivious  to  others  around  them  .  nicholas  knows  he  should  be  careful  and  discreet  ,  distancing  himself  enough  to  not  appear  as  if  he  had  been  kissing  the  other  beside  him  moments  ago  .  with  an  idle  thought  ,  the  king  reaches  a  thumb  to  his  lips  to  void  himself  of  any  stained  lipstick  .

CHARMED BY HIS curiosity, clive moves swiftly on, no answers given. though, the whimsy and adoration in the way they sway and jitter might be an answer in itself, in a way —  clive had always been something of a terrible liar in conversation, despite their knack for theatre. much better to polish and decorate the truth. “it is wonderful, nicholas. your pigment is my most favorite and if i had the skill, i would paint you just so! lovely and red —  have you ever had your portrait made, nicholas? or has no one dared to slick their brushes with the challenge of capturing such allure? i do wonder, could even the most esteemed painter capture your unforeseen bashfulness?”

clive had never known love the way it curled, inky on a page or played out drastically on a stage. even in their own work, the concept bloated and swollen with theatrics and illusion. a thought had strolled in a week or so back, were there types of love? if so, clive feels a love for the curl in nick’s lip, and the flushed way he existed in the warmth of a compliment, victim to his own blood and heat. a love for the way he dips in and out of the profound, almost testing, a sincerity that felt as rare as it sounded from his highness. for those strings of words, clive allows themself to feel special. a small jolt of joy, wide-eyed for a moment, a step forward; clive is contained but overjoyed somehow. “OH! and to think i assumed you had forgotten me some time ago. i live in your head just as you live in mine!” a sudden, pleased hum sounds from clive in suit of the king’s touch, pulled forward, allowing, sweet. the flesh of their bottom lip is caught between teeth, so smitten, gazing up as if gaping at a god or a forgiving sun that refuses to blind its admirers. clive’s hands find someplace on nick’s chest, flat with ring-clad fingers sprawled. “i am in such awe of you, your majesty. nicholas, nick, my king,” leaps forward, up and to press a honeyed kiss to his cheek, “  —  will you take me somewhere?” his jaw, “away from here?” his lips. “oh i know the festival is so lovely, it is —  the flickering lights compliment you! however i ache to have you someplace with more privacy,” the words are frantic with some worry much like their kiss, worry about ruining everything, worry about speaking too low or too loud, worry about makeup smudging at its creases and worried about nick disappearing where he stood.

             WITH  THEIR  WORDS  ,  it  is  quite  impossible  for  the  king  to  be  any  color  other  than  a  deepened  pink  .  even  with  his  efforts  to  appear  detached  and  unaffected  by  such  compliments  ,  it  would  be  cruel  to  pretend  otherwise  for  them  .  besides  ,  if  he  remained  cold  ,  how  was  he  to  hear  clive  sing  praises  for  him  ?  an  angelic  voice  ,  nicholas  is  positive  .    ❝    most  favorite  ?  oh  ,  i’m  sure  you  have  others  !  i  have  not  ...  but  i  know  of  a  painter  .  perhaps  i’ll  tell  them  your  feedback  and  have  one  composed  .    ❞    his  wife  .  the  painter  is  roisin  ,  frequently  sat  in  front  of  an  easel  with  brushes  by  her  side  .  how  would  that  go  ,  asking  her  to  paint  his  portrait  and  gifting  it  to  another  ?  the  thought  has  his  stomach  in  a  twist  .  he  thinks  ,  quite  possibly  ,  he’ll  let  the  queen  take  his  head  if  she  desires  .

                 the  assumption  of  forgetting  clive  stings  deeper  than  nicholas  could  have  known  ,  even  with  no  intention  of  doing  so  .  how  could  anyone  forget  clive  ,  let  alone  a  man  who  they  had  shared  a  kiss  with  ?  there’s  the  twisting  in  his  stomach  again  at  the  thought  someone  could  be  so  tangled  with  the  bard  and  disappear  with  no  warning  ,  with  no  hesitation  .  if  not  already  so  deep  within  his  bones  ,  nicholas  might  consider  such  a  thing  .  to  cut  ties  and  run  ,  afraid  of  what  he  feels  and  what  chaos  it  could  bring  .  for  a  king  to  desire  a  bard  ,  body  and  soul  .  he  has  never  been  allowed  to  desire  anything  ,  let  alone  another  ,  but  now  the  thought  of  pulling  himself  away  is  unendurable  .  nicholas  will  suffer  the  chaos  and  turmoil  for  whatever  possibility  his  affections  for  clive  could  bring  them  .  he  has  never  known  fondness  ,  to  be  given  or  received  ,  like  he  does  with  clive  .  the  king  figures  that’s  why  he’s  so  offended  ,  though  the  thought  clive  has  faced  this  before  has  him  placing  a  gentle  touch  to  their  powdered  cheek  .    ❝    clive  ,  you  must  know  i  could  never  forget  you  .    ❞    his  words  are   earnest  ,  eyes  locking  onto  the  musician  .  if  they  hear  one  thing  ,  remember  one  thing  from  their  time  together  ,  let   it  be  this  .  please  ,  let  them  believe  him  .

roisin’s eyes were locked on the king, biting the inside of her cheek. it was a bad habit, she knew; to chew on something while in thought. it was something she had been doing since childhood- biting the ends of paintbrushes when deep in thought about her work, chewing her cheek or lip. thankfully, she had grown out of biting her nails, which was perhaps the worst habit of all. 

“it is special,” she agreed with a hum. “i do hope you’ve been partaking in some of the festivities, dear.” roisin wondered what he thought of it all, the short festival where none were noble or even royal. to lose a title given by birth- even if it were for just a few days- had to be jarring. even roisin, who had spent most of her life as a lady, found it most unusual. “enjoying yourself.”

she let out a laugh- more a giggle than a laugh. “the wine may be part of the reason,” she admitted. it made her feel warm- inside and out. whether it was the alcoholic content or the comforting spices, she had no idea. “perhaps it was my way of capturing your attention,” she added in a teasing tone.

            ABSENTMINDEDLY  ,  HE  NODS  ,  though  there  hasn’t  been  much  for  him  to  partake  in  .  nicholas  refuses  to  dance  ,  has  had  only  boring  small  talk  with  people  he  will  never  see  again  and  the  only  thing  the  king  has  shared  with  others  is  ale  .  tightly  wound  ,  it’ll  be  a  miracle  if  he  finds  enjoyment  in  anything  besides  a  moment  alone  with  the  night  sky  .  he  longs  for  aura  and  his  crown  ,  as  if  it’s  been  missing  for  weeks  .  routine  is  what  he  knows  ,  what  he’s  comfortable  with  and  the  sudden  change  in  pace  has  him  spinning  .    ❝    i  am  ,  i  am  .    ❞    liar  .  roisin  has  always  been  good  at  encouraging  such  things  ,  the  perfect  demeanor  for  a  queen  .  he’s  lucky  and  he  knows  it  ,  but  a  certain  guilt  weighs  on  his  chest  .

                her  laughter  is  contagious  and  nicholas  snorts  ,  amused  by  her  less  than  tipsy  manner  .  at  any  other  point  in  time  he  might  pull  her  to  the  side  or  ask  if  she  needs  to  rest  ,  but  the  festival  has  clearly  done  well  to  lift  her  spirits  and  make  her  feel  ...  well  ,  normal  .  if  only  he  too  could  achieve  that  .    ❝    my  attention  ?    ❞    alcohol  loosens  the  lips  ,  this  he  knows  .  they  could  be  worse  to  each  other  .  the  two  of  them  could  wish  the  other  harm  or  his  dear  wife  could  want  nothing  more  than  his  head  on  a  pike  .  things  could  be  worse  .  of  course  ,  he  could  certainly  put  more  of  an  effort  into  making  them  better  ...  but  he  won’t  .  not  with  another  on  his  mind  .  nicholas  tilts  his  head  and  raises  a  brow  as  if  she’s  said  something  in  another  language  .    ❝    you  have  my  attention  ,  roisin  ,  if  you  so  desire  it  .  there’s  no  need  to  trample  me  for  it  .    ❞

UNDER HIS PRESENCE things are warm and glistening much like the night lights, and much like the feeling in clive’s belly, full and bubbling with cider and regard. clive finds themselves feeling lucky, even, like a big bright star caught in the eyes of someone, a small speck in the universe, yearning for a wish. “how do you know i do not curtesy for every charming man i find in the aisle?” it’s not true! though they do wish it were so; what better way to show off a gown than to curtsey?

clive’s only wish now, starless, is to say his highnesses name forevermore, nicholas nicholas nicholas! a hand coils around their forearm, carefully searching for a wrist. “oh, curse me for being partial to such vacancy. nicholas, you’ve found me!” how wonderful! “you flush more often than anyone i’ve ever known. even under these lights, nicholas, you are stunningly pink! that is how i think of you, did you know? of course not  —  i had no chance to tell you.” oh, how swiftly they had left things! high and dry like sunday’s laundry! 

clive is so content to live, even in small part, inside the king’s brain. nick’s brain; would it be as pink as his ears? shiny as his cheeks were? “oh, nicholas,” tone deepens, sincere but with a glaze of certain charm. “i am only ever performing for you.” off the high of their bold remark, that’s when clive tugs nick to that same corner of solace where they had begun, searching for that damned square of cream cloth. no idea where it is now, must’ve dropped it  —  but onto better things! once they stop, in a dim crevice of the festival, some noises drowned out and muffled as if under a fortress of leaves and vines, clive breathes out a huff. eyes sparkling still somehow, “i must be frank,” they say then, bravery. “i am simply intoxicated by your affections and quite deliriously eager to have your attention. i have thought of you each day, had you realized or had you felt that? i used to think, as a child, oh dear, so hopeless, if i had thought really vigorously of another, then perhaps they could sense my thoughtfulness. had you felt anything in those few weeks, nicholas?” it’s frenzied in its seriousness, and clive’s up and down on tippy-toes, eager in emphasis and fondness. “in my dreams you’re grand but not as grand   —  i cannot for the life of me build your greatness from the scraps in my imagination. i thought to myself, oh dear, i must see his highness once more. and here you are! like magic, don’t you agree?”

          IF  NICHOLAS  HIMSELF  WAS  NOT  ALREADY  numerous  shades  of  pink  ,  he  would  surely  be  turning  so  !  the  other’s  words  have  him  blushing  and  caught  off  guard  .  it’s  not  something  he  had  merely  thought  about  ,  less  than  imagined  ...  and  now  that  he  is  ,  the  spark  of  insecurity  flares  once  more  .  his  face  falls  without  confirmation  of  teasing  ,  but  nicholas  shrugs  it  off  .    ❝    do  you  ?    ❞    compliment  ignored  entirely  as  he  focuses  on  clear  jest  .    ❝    not  that  i  ...  it’s  not  any  of  my  business  ...  just  curiosity  .    ❞    the  king  bites  his  tongue  before  he  chews  further  on  his  own  foot  .  the  unknowing  with  clive  is  what  shakes  him  from  a  fantasy  ,  yet  he  clings  onto  paradise  as  tightly  as  one  can  with  such  a  dream  in  his  company  .

            as  previously  suspected  ,  his  own  name  gliding  off  the  other’s  tongue  is  even  better  than  a  charming  melody  .  better  than  he  imagined  !  nicholas’  eyes  reflect  the  night  sky  ,  twinkling  as  the  fireflies  do  among  the  stars  .    ❝    that’s  ...  how  you  think  of  me  ?  is  that  good  ?    ❞    if  he  could  become  anymore  pink  ,  he  does  !  they  think  of  him  is  all  nicholas  takes  away  and  he  can’t  help  but  grin  .  their  previous  affair  had  ended  so  quickly  with  no  answers  to  extinguish  the  fires  of  curiosity  in  his  mind  ,  in  his  chest  !  how  was  he  to  know  anything  and  where  would  he  even  had  began  to  guess  ?  it  gave  him  motivation  to  see  them  again  ,  among  numerous  reasons  .

ODDITIES DROWNED OUT or disregarded for a night, a wonderful night, of mutual frolicking and reach for a splendid evening. just off the sharp, sickly edge of smallpox, folks from all around dance eagerly and drink as if they were kings and queens, with only the stars and fireflies watching over them to supervise. clive thrives in the motion blur of anonymity and joy, dancing in circles under the soles of their feet were screaming for mercy. even then, red-heeled and damp, clive smiles toothy and wide, a mask held with some inkling of class and delicacy, dancing around and swigging whatever came their way like a toddler. naturally, solace calls, and clive finds themselves digging through their tote for a handkerchief in the surprising quiet of a darkened corner. sounds of instruments curling like smoke in the air, shining lights, the sound of shoes meeting the ground, vague chatter.. where is that handkerchief? 

got you! said amongst themselves, and thus begins the steps back into the meat and potatoes of the festival. that is, until, they’re met with another. beauty! clive is quick to remember, and a grin blooms, all sweetness, like his highness. “my oh my, could it be? among us commoners?” teasing; that’s the whole point, wasn’t it? clive pokes lightly, playfully at his chest, but truly wants to grab at the thick of his chin and tug. ridiculously beautiful, he is. clive’s chest is aflutter, overjoyed with this reunion! “your majesty,” a small curtsy, clutching a chunk of fabric attached to their mismatched gown ( homemade, they might add! the same colors as the decor for the festival! ). standing up straight once more, clive lowers their mask, blinking thrice. when they speak, it’s coy and nearly devoid of the small slice of history they shared. clive tries to picture his highness, cornered and red, kissed, blushing, once more. oh the times they had tried to replicate it in makeup and art and music all those weeks between then and now! “are you finding the occasion suitable for your needs, your highness?” they ask, “i myself find it most wonderful. my belly is full and my eyes are made of stars, you see,” eyes widen then, showing, dilated and reflective, batting. swiftly onward, “have you thought of me? and am i clear in your head, your highness? quite clear like now?”

            THE  HINT  OF  A  SMILE  IS  HIDDEN  and  overshadowed  by  a  quick  glance  in  another  direction  .  nicholas  rolls  his  eyes  ,  playfully  ,  arms  folding  gently  across  his  chest  .  even  on  a  night  where  he  is  fitted  as  a  commoner  ,  blending  into  the  crowds  of  people  ,  clive  treats  him  as  a  king  .  it’s  conflicting  ,  whether  he  should  correct  them  or  not  .  the  way  they  address  him  as  his  highness  ,  his  majesty  ,  it’s  a  phrase  anyone  would  use  but  from  them  it’s  as  if  it  comes  from  fondness  and  admiration  .  as  if  those  monikers  are  reserved  only  for  them  .  on  another  note  ,  the  both  of  them  are  on  a  first  name  basis  --  or  ,  they  certainly  should  be  after  what  occurred  weeks  ago  .    ❝    as  goes  with  tradition  ,  tonight  i  am  a  commoner  .    ❞    even  saying  so  has  his  words  soured  .  the  poking  has  him  finally  grinning  outright  ,  tempted  to  pull  the  other  close  .  if  tonight  he  is  not  a  king  ,  why  act  like  one  ?  because  he  is  a  married  man  ,  regardless  of  status  ,  that’s  why  .  the  curtsy  has  nick  shaking  his  head  quickly  ,  jumping  forward  to  assist  them  back  upright  .    ❝    i  am  your  equal  this  evening  ,  clive  !  there’s  no  need  for  curtsies  .    ❞    the  void  of  such  actions  has  him  cringing  with  strangers  ,  but  with  his  bard  ?  he  will  allow  it  .  encourage  such  a  thing  ,  even  .

             THE  NIGHT  SKY  SHINES  BRIGHT  with  fireflies  ,  dancing  around  and  giving  light  to  the  festival  .  it’s  as  if  they  know  exactly  what  to  do  and  how  ,  something  nicholas  wishes  he  knew  too  .  his  attire  is  dark  ,  hiding  himself  while  also  looking  the  part  .  it’s  a  ridiculous  affair  ,  a  ridiculous  idea  --  and  yet  ,  there  is  a  part  of  himself  having  fun  .  the  music  ,  the  laughter  ,  it’s  a  better  upbeat  than  when  smallpox  had  traveled  through  the  kingdoms  .  a  bit  of  ale  in  his  belly  has  calmed  his  nerves  and  eased  a  burdened  mind  ,  letting  him  enjoy  what  small  attributes  he  can  .  the  king  will  make  idle  small  talk  and  smile  as  if  he  is  a  common  man  .  yet  ,  he  is  not  and  no  festival  will  change  that  .  all  the  fireflight  festival  has  brought  him  are  empty  opportunities  and  the  dangling  of  a  forbidden  future  in  his  grasp  .  he  will  bask  in  such  a  thought  for  the  night  ,  but  nicholas  finds  it  cruel  .

             he  whisks  his  way  throughout  the  crowd  ,  eyes  set  on  a  darkened  part  of  the  marketplace  void  of  others  .  no  one  will  bother  him  and  if  they  do  ,  can  he  shake  them  off  as  a  commoner  would  ?  as  much  as  he  would  prefer  ,  nick  decides  it  best  to  stay  quiet  .  the  sound  of  flutes  has  him  gazing  around  ,  interested  to  watch  .  it’s  then  he  spots  a  few  people  wearing  masks  ,  dancing  around  in  a  circle  .  a  joyful  action  ,  he’s  sure  ,  but  then  another  in  a  mask  catches  his  gaze  .  off  to  the  side  ,  not  where  he  was  originally  looking  --  but  nicholas  can  spot  powdered  skin  and  a  familiar  silhouette  .  not  skipping  ,  no  ,  though  he  hurries  in  pace  to  investigate  .    ❝    no  mask  can  hide  your  beauty  ,    ❞    he  speaks  in  hushed  tones  ,  smile  bright  as  he  finally  faces  them  .    ❝    hello  ,  clive  .    ❞

there was something to the breeze as it ran through her hair, bringing the usual scents of the marketplace with it, along with new smells and the sounds of revelry. it was as if the entire aisle had transformed, an atmosphere all together different than that it held most days. there were no sounds of bartering between sellers and buyers, but instead the sounds of music and laughter, and the babbles of the people surrounding them. 

she tilted her head slightly, blue eyes on his face as he spoke. “soulful is definitely a way to put it.” she echoed his grin. “i can’t say i have ever seen anything like it.” and it was true, could anything be compared to a quarter-centennial event, one which puts those noble and common on the same level. “there’s someone a short ways down selling a delightful spiced wine.” she had of course been partaking in some drink, as nearly everyone had; it was perhaps a reasoning for the unsteady footing she had had, but not enough to make the world seem fuzzy and far away. “and have you had a chance to enjoy the dancing?”

            WITH  THE  LOUD  AND  WILD  ATMOSPHERE  ,  nicholas  finds  it  difficult  to  keep  his  focus  on  roisin  .  there  are  times  when  he  would  love  to  explore  the  marketplace  ,  purchasing  every  single  thing  he  thought  beautiful  ,  but  then  it  is  possible  his  pockets  would  run  dry  .  exquisite  silks  and  sweet  fruit  enjoyed  under  a  gorgeous  night  sky  ...  what  could  be  better  ?  he’ll  certainly  give  the  merchants  a  glance  ,  nick  decides  .  if  one  listened  closely  ,  it’s  quite  possible  they  could  hear  the  king  himself  hum  along  to  the  nearest  melody  .  even  though  ,  if  spoken  aloud  ,  there  would  be  nothing  more  than  denial  .

             ❝    i  suppose  that’s  the  point  ,  is  it  not  ?  something  that  happens  every  so  often  should  be  special  ...  and  it’s  certainly  living  up  to  that  .    ❞    his  eyes  wonder  ,  catching  every  firefly  he  can  .  he  remembers  learning  about  them  as  a  child  ,  curiosity  forcing  questions  that  should  have  been  kept  quiet  .  they  don’t  live  long  ,  he  remembers  ,  and  wonders  if  the  insects  themselves  are  grateful  to  have  lived  at  such  a  moment  .  of  course  ,  how  are  they  to  know  ?    ❝    spiced  wine  ?  is  that  why  you  nearly  trampled  me  ?    ❞    he  teases  ,  words  said  in  jest  .  regardless  of  his  indifference  toward  the  festival  ,  the  sights  have  lifted  his  spirits  .  at  least  ,  that’s  what  he’s  clinging  onto  in  fear  of  unraveling  .    ❝    oh  ,  no  ,  i’m  fine  watching  .    ❞

IF THEIR HEART COULD split by overdone seams, tear and retreat to a shadow of wholeness over and over, it would be fiercely ripping itself into loose threads at the sound of their king’s sensitivity. no such beautiful heart and soul should have to digest that way of thinking, that awareness; it could kill you! clive thinks about warning him. he’s too kind. yet they’re being kissed by the fleshy glistening form of this kindness and compassion, firm and grounding, affectionate, fond, dare they observe. their gown-clad chest just touches the kings as they touch, kiss, speak silently. in clive’s head, swims a portrait of the king’s smile, wide like horizons and sweet like now, here, brick and weeds and inklings of honesty. 

clive pulls away, breathless and flushed, swelling pink. “your highness,” they breathe out eventually, sugary. their eyes are wild upon the king, drinking him in until imaginary hiccups bloom bubbles of adoration in their throat. clive hooks a hand around the thick of his wrist, pulling it and observing down at it. as it were, it was painted white and rose, creased in his fingertips and the lines of his hands like tiny white rivers. “your hands,” they say, sorrowful. eyes flicker up, meeting. clive cannot imagine how they must look; a right smudged mess. separation now felt cruel and unfair, air meeting the wet of where clive was kissed and adored, and that’s when they decide quickly to push back in, pressing small kisses to the sides of his mouth, his chin, his cheeks; oh, if only they could kiss his eyes. tiny thank yous, press and press and press, mumbled in between the cracks of infatuation, “forgive me, please, you must, i find you most delightful already,” they say, a peck to his jaw now. “..without the castle, oh my stars, i cannot imagine its size in person,” floating off track, clive pulls away, taking some time to even out their breathing. “..there is no crown on you now,” they observe, simple. trying to be helpful, careful. despite all things profound, he was a king. clive speaks honestly, more hushed, smiling lightly. “you are just handsome and kind. and you’ve kissed me back and  — and.. what a wonderful gift you’ve given me.”

           AND  SUDDENLY  ,  EVERYTHING  IS  SPINNING  .  though  he  feels  as  if  the  lack  of  oxygen  could  knock  him  unconscious  ,  nicholas  doesn’t  dare  to  part  .  their  lips  touch  and  it’s  something  the  king  had  never  known  to  crave  .  there’s  a  hint  of  intensity  that  causes  him  to  cling  to  the  other  as  the  only  solid  thing  in  a  dizzy  swaying  world  .  and  with  the  hunger  ,  which  he  subsides  ,  there’s  the  desperation  of  more  .  the  desperation  that  this  moment  ,  this  very  sweet  moment  will  be  whisked  away  and  nothing  will  ever  ring  close  .  it’s  only  a  kiss  ,  he  thinks  ,  but  he  would  live  in  this  scene  for  the  rest  of  his  days  if  possible  .  the  seconds  linger  and  before  they’re  gone  ,  nick  thanks  his  lucky  stars  .