#arracen

He didn’t know what had happened to them. Nelisa at least would have the good sense to pretend she was no one important, possibly even attempt an escape, but certainly Idalis would have heard of them, and it would be so easy to scare the servants into revealing the truth. Would he have them killed, or give them to his men for entertainment? Would he keep them for himself, just to show them and all that he, Arracen, could no longer protect even those he loved most?

Maybe he should have kept fighting, for them. But then, had there really been a chance for anything other than more death and less mercy?

The cut in his arm throbbed with pain; it barely bled anymore, but certainly, it should be seen to by a doctor. Then again, plenty of the soldiers he had ordered into battle had to go without proper care, there simply weren’t enough medics; didn’t it serve him right, then?

He hadn’t been able to protect or care for anyone, at the end.

He had lost track of time when he finally heard footsteps and the shine of a torch approaching the barred door of his cell. Four soldiers, wearing Idalis’ colours, came into view and unlocked the door.

»By the King’s orders, you are to come with us.«

There was no point arguing; Idalis had already proven he had no issue threatening his life. He tried to stealthily dry his tears as he was escorted upstairs, the fading daylight still bright after the darkness of the dungeon.

They brought him into one of the guest rooms.

»Clean yourself up, sir. You will join the king for supper.«

Arracen stared at the door as it was slammed in his face, completely baffled. What was going on? What was Idalis playing at? Did he want to present his captive to the court - to blackmail his, Arracen’s, followers into loyalty, or purely as a show of triumph?

The tub was even filled with warm water, and on the bed lay a set of his own civil clothing, clearly straight from his wardrobe, which Idalis must have shamelessly rifled. It wasn’t a very festive outfit, but it was more than decent.

He pulled himself together; no matter how anxious it made him, for now he didn’t have a choice but to do as he was told. He certainly didn’t want to anger the man who held Nelisa’s and Lint’s lives in his hands if he hadn’t already killed them.

He would see how much wiggling room he could carve out once Idalis finally deigned to tell him what he was up to.

The warm water was so comforting he was tempted to just sink back and relax into it for a moment. But he didn’t know how much time he had to get ready, and really, right now he didn’t feel like he deserved this kind of luxury, so he opted for a quick full-body wash instead. It felt plenty luxurious, even so, to finally get the sweat and blood and grime still clinging to him from the battle off. The water stung in his wound, but at least it had stopped bleeding. He wondered whether Idalis had plain forgotten he was wounded, or wanted him to suffer, or force him to bargain for a doctor.

It didn’t matter. Without doubt, he still was better off than most of the wounded, so he really should stop wallowing in his misery.

He swallowed thickly, noticing how dry his throat was. There was a jar of water on the bedside table, and he took a hesitant sip, unwilling to trust anything Idalis had given him. He was hungry - he hadn’t had anything to eat since his capture, except a slice of bread a dungeon guard, one of his own, slipped him when none of Idalis’ people were looking, and he didn’t really know how long it had been. He had barely noticed it at first through the fear for his loves and the humiliation of being manhandled home into his own castle, but by now it was almost painful.

He would have supper with the king, they’d said. He wondered, bitterly, whether Idalis would enjoy watching him try to stay dignified in front of a meal fit for a king, while he was so starved.

He forced a deep breath, dressed himself, and sat down in the chair by the window to await whatever Idalis had in store for him. He couldn’t lose his head now, whether from fear or from hunger; Lint’s and Nelisa’s lives might hinge on his actions.

He was glad he had been quick, because it wasn’t long before the door opened after a brief knock not waiting for a response.

Once more he was escorted by guards, this time into the dining room.

He had half-expected it to be filled with sneering faces Idalis had assembled, ready to watch him flounder in a desperate attempt to protect all he loved.

Instead, the room was almost empty. Only two people sat at the table.

He was led forward to its head, and forced onto his knees; not that it took much forcing - he hated how pliable he was being, but he had to put his loved ones’ safety first, and that meant not angering the man before him.

He forced himself, despite his fear, to look up at the man sitting in his father’s place, where he himself had only sat so briefly. All these deaths on the battlefield he had decided were warranted to protect the rest of his people, and now it had all been for nothing. Fresh tears caught in his throat, but he forced them down; he would not give the conquerer the satisfaction of seeing him weep.

Idalis stared down at him like a hawk, shifting slightly as he examined his prey. He was startlingly young, younger than Arracen himself - he knew this, of course, when he was still a hostage, he had heard the king laugh off this child-king of a distant land; but that was before they all learned better, before the insatiable young man marched across one border after another. On the right-hand seat, a man that could only be Cassio sat and examined him as well, less like a hawk, more like a cold-blooded reptile.

»I was too busy to think of what to do with them, so I just left them where they were,« Idalis explained, then smiled too smugly for comfort. »I guess you can stay here with them. Since you’re considering.« His smile slipped when his eyes flickered to Arracen’s arm. »And I will make sure a doctor will see you. I expect you to recover well.«

Arracen couldn’t decide whether that was an order, a threat, or a simple statement - it was all a bit too much to keep up. He decided to take it at face value. »Thank you.«

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile flicker over Idalis’ face.

The door opened, and Arracen’s anxiety reached its peak. Were they-?

»Arracen!« Nelisa rushed towards the door, her voice catching in her throat, then she stopped and, uncertainly, bowed to Idalis, who had stayed behind him. »Your Majesty.«

»Nelisa.« Arracen all but fell into her arms, pulling her close, only opening one arm to also pull in Lint when he approached a little more cautiously. He had done his best to keep his composure the entire evening, but it was gone now, he couldn’t wait a moment more.

It was all he could do not to ask whether they were okay while Idalis was right there, after he had already told him so, as if he doubted his word.

They seemed alright, at least in bodily condition.

»I suppose I will leave you, then.« He looked around to see Idalis smile, and again, it appeared strangely genuine. »I expect your decision in the morning.«

In the morning.

Not all that much time to consider, then. But at least he would have opportunity to consult with his lovers. Not his advisors, but then, it was only too easy to imagine why Idalis wouldn’t want him to.

»I understand,« he said quietly.

»Good night,« Idalis said to him, still smiling, before he turned deadly serious with startling suddenness. »For the sake of all of us, don’t try to leave the castle grounds, will you?«

As soon as the door fell closed behind him, Arracen, Nelisa, and Lint all started talking at once.

»Are you alright?«

»You’re injured!«

»Where have you been?«

»What has he done to you?«

»It’s so good to see you again!«

»I was so worried!«

Even Arracen himself wasn’t sure later who had said what in that flurry of love and worry, but it was Nelisa, ever practical, who put an end to it with a soft laugh, the most comforting sound Arracen thought he’d ever heard. »Enough, enough! Let’s take turns.«

None of them were quite willing to let go of one another, so it was a bit of a challenge to maneuver to sit on the bed. Arracen held them close on either side, their arms wrapped around him, the burning in his arm, having been jostled in all the huggery, negligible compared to the warmth and relief seeping into him.

»Are you okay?« Lint began, looking up at him wide-eyed. »You’re injured.«

»It’s not - it’s just a scratch, I’ll be alright.« Arracen swallowed. He barely knew how to begin telling them about what had happened, so he jumped right in. »He wants to marry me.«

Nelisa gasped. »And-?«

»Are you two alright?« Arracen felt bad brushing over Nelisa, but he had to know. »I didn’t - didn’t know what had happened - what he’d done to you-«

»We’re alright, we’ve just been in here.«

»He thought I was a pet,« Lint said quietly.

»He - he said something like that, that he thought I kept a pet.« Arracen studied Lint’s face - it must have hurt, after struggling so hard not to be one. »But you’re not,« he reiterated what he had told Lint a thousand times, and would tell him a thousand more if that was what it took to make him sure of it.

Lint nodded, and whispered, still spooked at the memory, »I told him that.«

Arracen beamed at him. For Lint to tell that a total stranger - a very powerful stranger at that; being the best thing Arracen had heard in weeks was an insultingly low bar for that. He kissed the top of Lint’s head. »I’m glad you did. And not just for your sake,« he added. »He was… he kind of implied he was upset with me because of - because he thought that.«

»Did he hurt you?« Nelisa almost shouted.

»No, I - he put me in the dungeons but nothing worse than that.« It was bad enough, by far. Maybe they would talk about it later, what it had been like, to sit there alone and frightened and desperate without knowing what would become of them. But not now. Now they were all safe.

Nelisa eyed him a moment, as if she knew there was something he wasn’t telling them, but then picked up the other subject he had so unceremoniously dropped. »And now he wants to marry you?«

Arracen nodded wearily. »He… wants to gain the people’s support.« It felt all wrong. Wasn’t he betraying them, then, by seemingly endorsing that man? But then - if it would gain him the right to rule again, be a protective layer between them and Idalis - wasn’t it the right thing to do?

»And we both need an heir sooner or later,« he continued, quietly. This one seemed awfully right, an inescapable truth.

»And you?« Nelisa asked quietly. »Do you want a child by him?«

He hadn’t even looked at it this way, he realized. He had been too caught up in worry about the immediate consequences to consider that heir they had talked about as his child. With Idalis sharing fatherhood, would he be able to raise them to be a good, responsible, caring monarch to his people? Or would they become a glory-hungry conqueror like Idalis? How much say would Idalis even leave him in the matter?

Would either of them be a good father?

»I don’t want a child at all,« he muttered, but shook his head as soon as the words came out. No, that wasn’t quite right - he very much did want to raise a child, he always had. Children, even. »No, I mean, I just… I don’t want to…«

He had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t have one without going through the ordeal most fit to remind him of his bodily condition. Sure, he could adopt all the wards he wanted, but he would have to bear an heir anyway. His plan had been - when he couldn’t put the thought out of his mind - to find some nobleman, or perhaps, if he dreamed boldly, a noblewoman sharing his situation and understanding all the better, whom he could grow fond of and who would respect him for what he was outside of King. Then get it over with with the least suffering possible.

It still seemed a lot. And now… he didn’t know how Idalis would treat him, and he certainly didn’t like the man; the fact he barely even had a choice in the matter was just the icing on the cake.

He couldn’t leave his people to whatever ruler Idalis saw fit.

He buried his face in Nelisa’s shoulder, wishing he could just stay there, safe between them, forever.

But he couldn’t, because there was a knock at the door.

He could feel Nelisa straighten up, and he was confused himself for a moment before he remembered. »Oh! He said he’d send a doctor. Come in,« he called, getting up; there was no way around it.

»I was under the impression you kept a human pet,« Idalis said abruptly, dipping his bread into the rich broth that had been served. »I’ve since been informed of the situation. It seems we are on the same page about this matter.«

Arracen’s mind, still reeling from the absurd accusation, raced to figure out what Idalis was trying to tell him. Was he trying to make him feel secure? Preparing to pull the rug by telling him this was their only common ground and so Arracen was currently having his last meal?

He had - at least heard about, if not met, Lint. Something must have happened, for better or for worse. That was, really, the only thing that mattered.

He couldn’t fuck this up, for his and Nelisa’s sake. »I’m glad to hear that.« Have you met Lint? Is he alright? What have you done with him?

»He’s fine.« This time Idalis smirked, and Arracen couldn’t keep looking at him, knowing how transparent he was. »He and your other lover.«

Nelisa hadn’t had the good sense to escape, then. He was momentarily overwhelmed with a mixture of terror and selfish relief, but he had to focus. There it was - the threat was coming, he could feel it, as inevitable as a monster approaching a ship at sea. Idalis was just about to tell him what he would need to do, what more of his dignity he would have to trade away, to keep it this way.

The worst part was that he would do it. Of course he would.

»But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you. I have a proposal to offer you.«

Oh, of course. A proposal. If Arracen hadn’t been so hungry, his appetite would have abandoned him at the duplicity. »I’m listening.« What else could he say?

»I purpose to marry you.«

For a moment, Arracen could only stare in shock. One among the two of them had lost his mind, there was no other explanation. »I beg your pardon?« he finally choked out.

»I wish to marry you.« Idalis set his cutlery down. »Your people love you, you know that. It will be easier for me, and them, if they learn to love me also, and what simpler way to achieve that than through you? And further, I will need an heir sooner or later. That is to say, a consort that will carry them.«

Arracen swallowed thickly. It was always going to come to this; he had known that his whole life. If there was one thing royals did not get a choice in, it was the matter of producing an heir. It had been easy to put it out of his mind, for a time.

But maybe he shouldn’t have.

Then it wouldn’t have hit him like a horse’s kick to the chest now, when everything hinged on his reaction.

»If you agree, and I find you trustworthy, you may rule this your country in my stead while I’m away. Your lovers will be safe - I won’t mind them-« his eyes flickered to Cassio, »-as long as the child is mine, and so long as my husband cares for them, I will protect them like family.« There was a genuine softness to his voice for a moment, before he sobered up. »And you are also royal. You, too, will need an heir sooner or later. I am offering you a mutually beneficial arrangement.«

Arracen still couldn’t find words. All his lessons in diplomacy and rhetorics, swept away by the notion that, in fact, he could not and would not lead the life of a man given a body that fit.

Idalis gave a small huff. »Let me be clear, I am proposing to take you as my king consort, not my queen. You can have all the moondew you want after you give me an heir; it will be easy, now that we can work on rebuilding the trade routes. But I do need an heir and - I like men. Which makes you the preferred candidate, politics aside.« His voice trailed off, and for the first time, his gaze did too.

It was true, Arracen reckoned. There weren’t many male royals with a womb, not that he knew of. The argument made his heart a little lighter, even; Idalis was choosing him because he was a man, not in spite of it.

Not to spite him.

He had heard of moondew - that fairytale substance that could transform someone’s body to match their soul. It wasn’t really a fairytale, but it might as well have been in the chaos of the past years, with him going to be a hostage at Thobrinos’ court, and then the war Idalis started messing up all the trade routes from the west.

Eliphion, the country that was truly Idalis’ own, held the largest known sources. He wasn’t making an empty promise, or at least he wasn’t thinking so, Arracen was willing to believe that much.

But none of that mattered; he had to stay sensible. All the sweet promises aside, he was being coerced into marriage with a man who had taken what was his, and was now offering it right back to him as if it was a great gift.

He might have to take it - that was the worst part - but he would not let Idalis pretend it was anything other. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to see what was underneath the mask, but he wouldn’t just let it slide like a helpless child. »And if I don’t agree?« His voice almost cracked over the words, and he hated it.

Idalis cocked his head, eyeing him as if he hadn’t particularly considered this eventuality. »I will appoint a steward I see fit, and you… well, I suppose I could just put you under house arrest. See to it that you don’t stir up trouble. Your people wouldn’t be thrilled to hear you’re dead, I’m sure, and I am no tyrant.«

Arracen had to hold back a snort at the last words; that was rich. »And what of… Lint and Nelisa?« Idalis had said he would protect them if Arracen married him. Which must mean-

»You really care for them, don’t you?« Idalis said softly, as if he didn’t know, as if he wasn’t holding their lives over Arracen’s head. »They could go into house arrest with you, if they so choose. Or they could go back to Skalasia. I don’t care, so long as they don’t start trouble here.«

Once more, Arracen found himself thrown off balance.

There was no threat - nothing that would make matters worse, when matters weren’t half as bad as he had feared, and an option that would make matters better.

Well, largely better.

»May I consider?« he finally managed. Part of him doubted he would be given time; surely, Idalis had purposely sprung the proposal on him like this, so he would feel cornered and make an unwise choice.

But part of him didn’t believe that any more.

»Of course.« Idalis smiled, and it looked bafflingly genuine. What did he think he was doing? Did he really believe this was a generous offer? »When you’ve finished your meal, would you like to see your lovers? Take it as a sign of goodwill.«

He had finally started to feel like things were looking up after he returned home and negotiated a costly peace from Thobrinos, and now this unprovoked attack from another side shattered that precious safety - and he had failed.

He could have cried, but there wasn’t time. In the middle of the battlefield, he knew there was only one thing to do, in hopes the enemy would be gracious enough to accept it. Continuing on would only mean to throw more lives away.

There had been too many already. He had failed.

His heart hurt and his eyes stung and he was sore all over after weeks of intermittent fighting and there was a vicious cut bleeding down his arm and he called for a surrender.

He rode to the front, knowing in his bones he might be killed. Even if the surrender was accepted, even if - and he hoped so with all his heart - his troops were spared, he might be killed as the enemy king.

He didn’t want to die. His whole body was screaming to run away; Petal, of course, noticed, swishing his tail and tossing his head nervously, and Arracen had to give him a reassuring pat. »It’s okay,« he mumbled to the horse, or maybe to himself. »You’re going to be okay.« That much was true, he hoped. Everybody knew the enemy king loved his horses, and there was hope he would treat Petal well.

There had been so many hopes shattered.

Arracen didn’t want to die.

The fighting had indeed stopped when his officers signalled their surrender, and a drop of relief squeezed through the fear. At least. At least his soldiers wouldn’t be massacred because he had ordered their weapons down.

He hadn’t been sure. This king had been conquering whatever he liked for no reason other than he liked to, there was no telling if he would be merciful.

In truth, he wasn’t quite sure even now. Maybe the bloodbath was yet to happen, if he said or did the wrong thing.

The enemy king had come forward as well, flanked, like Arracen, only by his bodyguards. Arracen couldn’t make out much of the man’s face behind the helmet as he approached, but he imagined he could see the spark of excitement in the half-hidden eyes.

The enemy stopped first, requiring Arracen to come to him. Idalis. He should really stop thinking of him as the enemy, when the best outcome left was that he would become his liege, the country he had sworn to protect subject to his whims. And what would become of Lint and Nelisa?

He felt sick.

He moved closer, slow so as not to appear threatening, steady so as not to appear disrespectful, until Idalis raised a hand, and he stopped like a well-trained dog.

»Kneel.« Arracen could hear the smug smile in Idalis’ voice - as if this was only a game to him, as if he wasn’t taking everything Arracen loved - but there was something more dangerous underneath it, a hardness that only made him more afraid for his people. For his beloveds.

He could not hesitate. He swung off Petal, handing the reins to the head of his bodyguard, stepped forward, and dropped to his knees, pulling off his helmet.

It was so easy; he was exhausted and wounded and desperate.

It was the hardest thing he had done in his life. There was a plea stuck in his throat, for Lint and Nelisa and his whole people. And under it, a more cowardly plea for himself.

He didn’t want to die. He was only too aware how very reachable his neck was to Idalis’ sword now.

The enemy soldiers whispered and chuckled between themselves.

The field behind him was dead silent. He should probably say something; he owed them this much.

»Please spare my soldiers, they were faultless but for their loyalty to me.« His voice came out scratched up worse than his body.

»A grievous fault, all things considered.« The king spoke lightly, as if each word didn’t plunge into Arracen’s heart like an icy dagger. No. He had surrendered to save these people. If-

»We’ll see what can be done about it.« Still that awfully light tone, as if the matter wasn’t of much importance, as if they weren’t negotiating the lives of thousands.

The cold tip of the sword caught under Arracen’s chin, and his breath caught in his throat just the same.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to hold Nelisa and Lint close and never let them go. He wanted to protect them and protect all. He wanted to be safe, just once.

He didn’t want to die.

Idalis tipped his chin up and forced him to look up at him.

Arracen was frozen. He was not yet dead, and that was all that mattered. When Idalis, after staring down at him for a moment, took his blade back, and without further ado ordered him taken away, and a pair of enemy soldiers grabbed him by the arms, Arracen felt nothing but a dizzying rush of relief.

He could barely breathe.

Something touched his wrist, and he was squeezed so tight into the corner of the carriage he could not retreat any further. He turned away his head, he didn’t want to see, or hear, or face a world in which he had been taken from his master.

Stolen by people, although that should be a trivial detail, he almost had come to trust. Almost had come to consider friends, inasmuch as a pet could have human friends. It didn’t matter, of course, only his master mattered, the master he had been stolen from. That was where the unbearable ache in his heart came from. That was all, he wanted to go back where he belonged, not stay here with the thieves who cared nothing for him the way his master did.

The touch retreated, eventually. He wouldn’t have dared disobey a person like that at home, under the care and guidance of his master, but these were thieves.

Nothing more.

His heart ached so desperately.

After a time in which he felt nothing but his bleeding heart and the hum in his head still trying to come to terms with having been stolen and the carriage rattling along, the latter came to a stop.

»Lint.« The voice was so loud and clear he couldn’t press his hands hard enough over his ears not to hear. Someone grabbed his wrists, gently but strongly, as if he could ever resist a person.

Arracen. No - the thief.

Lint didn’t fight as he pulled his hands off his ears; there was no point. He had been stolen, he was who-knew-how-many miles from home, from his master, and he had no idea how to react. He hadn’t been prepared for this beyond »Don’t go with thieves,« as if that weren’t self-evident.

He hadn’t known.

»Lint. We - we’re taking a break. Come on, eat something with us.« He opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and he realized he had been too numb to notice himself crying.

»There, that’s better.«

»Don’t touch me,« Lint whispered; even speaking the words sent a tremor through him, they were words he should not ever say, but this was his thief.

»Okay.« Arracen - the thief let go of him. »I’m sorry. Will you come?« Lint blinked away the tears. Dim light - dawn - was creeping between the curtains at the carriage windows. Day was breaking.

If he escaped, could he hope to find help? Could he hope to be returned to his master?

He wouldn’t as long as he stayed in here. He forced his body out of the corner he had pushed it into; it wasn’t like it offered any protection or comfort anyway. That was all an illusion. Only his master could do that.

Everything was unfamiliar when he crawled out of the carriage. They were standing on a little clearing by the side of the road, surrounded by thick forest through which the road ran, for how long, he had no way of knowing. There was no indication of other people nearby, besides the two starting a small campfire to cook breakfast over.

Nelisa - the traitor - looked up at him with worry in her eyes, as if she cared, but he knew she didn’t, she was not his master and she was a traitor and he had almost - but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t explain where the sudden jab in his heart came from, it wasn’t like it mattered he had almost started thinking of her as a friend. She was a traitor and a thief, that was all.

The other was the foreign unknown who had come to take them all away, the one Arracen had called the spymaster, had been so happy to see, knowing she would help him steal Lint.

The horses had been unhitched and were grazing lazily.

There was no one else, only forest stretching on for who knew how long. He couldn’t outrun the humans, certainly not when one could just hop onto a horse to chase him down, not when he didn’t know how far he would have to go to find a loyal subject of his master’s to help him, not when he didn’t know where he was or where to go.

He didn’t know what to do. Would he be remiss in his duties to his master if he didn’t at least try to run, no matter the consequences? The forest floor, even here where soft grass grew in what would become a patch of light when the sun rose, needled his feet; he was used to going barefoot, but on soft carpets and smooth marble and groomed lawns, and his master had always made sure any calluses were scrubbed away so every part of him could stay soft and pleasant. Fresh tears shot into his eyes at the memory of how kind his master had been, even helping him in fulfilling his easy duties.

He would cut up his feet within a few steps of running along the stony, brambly road, he was sure of it, and that was not how he was supposed to take care of the body that belonged to his master.

Reluctantly, he stepped forward, following A- the thief as he led the way to the campfire. The chilly morning air drew goosebumps over his skin under too-thin clothes opening up to it in too many places.

The thief noticed when he turned to sit down. »Ah! Let me find you something to wear, you must be cold. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.«

Cassio remained silent for a long while as they walked through the orchard. The castle gardens were practical over pretty, but for Arracen, they had a charm. They helped feed and care for the people around them, just like he always wanted.

Finally Cassio said, »I wanted to talk to you about your upcoming marriage. I thought it might be worth clarifying some matters.« He paused to look straight at him, and there wasn’t any of the hostility Arracen had feared in his face; he couldn’t pinpoint what there was, either, though, and that was bad enough.

»Of course,« Arracen replied, determined to stay polite, stay on Cassio’s good side as long as he could.

Cassio continued walking. »I’m sure you’ve heard rumours about the King and I.«

»Yes.« There it was. Maybe he should be subtler, but he needed to make this unambiguously clear. »And I have no desire to come between you.«

»I know,« Cassio replied instantly and took Arracen aback. »That is one thing I wanted to… perhaps put your mind at ease about. I do not want you as my rival, and if you do not want that either, then we will have no issue.« He even gave him a small smile, and Arracen managed a smile back, even if he didn’t believe it looked half-genuine.

»The king is not a bad man,« Cassio continued, more quietly. »I know he came to you as a conqueror, but… you have nothing to fear from him as a husband. He will treat you well, he has a kind heart.«

A kind heart. The sort of kindness that would allow him to take and kill and conquer if only he wanted. »Why are you telling me this?«

»I figured you must be nervous. Going into a marriage with a man you know nothing but the worst of.«

It was so accurate it hit Arracen straight in the heart. He had been too worked up about too many things in the past days and weeks, and the tears came far too easily. Cassio didn’t push as Arracen turned away in a desperate attempt to compose himself.

»There’s another thing I feel you ought to know, if you haven’t already heard.« Cassio stopped again, and Arracen turned back towards him, not at all confident but hopeful he didn’t look like a crying wreck. »I am like you.«

Arracen didn’t need to ask what he meant - something about Cassio’s tone made it clear he was revealing something deeply personal. But he couldn’t think of a response. He hadn’t expected it at all, and it only brought another factor into the chaos of his feelings.

Thankfully, Cassio continued on. »When I told my parents I was a boy… Idalis and I were already quite close, and they had wanted me to become his queen. It didn’t change their mind. When I told Idalis,« he smiled at the memory, »he got me my first moondew behind everyone’s back. We were only foolish youths then, but…«

As his voice trailed off, Arracen found his speech again. »You - could have born his heir.« It was a stupid thing to say - why would Cassio want it any more than Arracen himself? And clearly, Idalis cared enough about one of them to not push him into it.

Cassio chuckled. »The court already thinks I hold too much sway with Idalis. If I were to bear his heir, no doubt I would find myself with a dagger in my back sooner rather than later. And,« he added more quietly, »I don’t want to. I’ve never wanted to.« He reached out for a moment, almost as if to take Arracen’s hand, but didn’t touch him. »I know you don’t want to either. And he knows it, too. If he gives you grief about it - I mean, additional grief… speak to me. I’ll set him straight.« There was that small smile on his lips again. »He won’t. But just in case.«

Lint hadn’t been to the guest suite often; it wasn’t unlike his own, just tidier, more dignified. He liked his fluffy furs and cozy cushions, but evidently men had to make do without as many of them. The fireplace with the comfortable seating arrangement in front was almost identical though. In one corner, there was a writing desk the like of which Lint of course didn’t have.

He caught himself trying to keep himself occupied with his observations. This wasn’t what he was here for.

The guest had sat down on the armchair before the fireplace, the shadows from the flickering flames making his youthful face hard to read as he looked at Lint.

Lint tried to smile up at him, even as he remained standing close to the door. When the man didn’t say anything, he ventured, “What would you like me to do, Master?”

“What would you do?”

The question felt unpleasant in more ways than one. Was he questioning Lint’s obedience? Or was he genuinely testing his boundaries - which surely meant he was going to push them? “Anything you want,” Lint crooned, smiling softly. It still felt wrong to say this to anyone other than the King. He didn’t want to say this to anyone other; it made him ill at ease, in more ways than one. But the King wanted him to, and anything his master wanted-

“Come sit here.”

Lint sauntered over to the fireplace and folded his legs to collapse gracefully at the guest’s feet. Of course he wasn’t going to sit on the couch unless requested. In the presence of men, this was his place.

He wished the King was here. He blinked up at the prince, still smiling, while he was looking down on him with furrowed brows. Probably Lint should help him relax. He rested first a hand against his knee, then his forehead. “What do you want, Master?” he purred.

“Do you enjoy this?” the prince asked, almost brusquely.

“Very much so,” Lint whispered. How could I not enjoy you? he would have said to the King, but it would have sounded fake to the prince, since he knew him so little. He was glad to have a good reason not to say it.

The prince stretched out a hand, and for the briefest of moments, Lint felt the impulse to flinch away. He didn’t move, but even so, a wave of guilt washed through him. He had promised to be good for the King’s guest. He would be good for the King.

The prince gingerly ran two fingers through his hair, his touch so light it almost seemed he was afraid. Lint lightly raised his head into it, trying to control the shiver wanting to run down his spine. The King wanted him to be good for him, so he would be. But the prince already drew back from him. Was it his fault? Had he done wrong already?

“I’m Arracen,” the prince said, taking Lint completely aback. He looked up at the prince, hoping his confusion wasn’t showing on his face. How was he supposed to react to this? What did the prince expect? Before he could do more than make sure none of his dread was showing, Arracen continued, “What’s your name?”

“Lint,” Lint replied with a warm smile, even more confused. The prince knew this. Where was he going with this? Why couldn’t he just tell Lint what he wanted? Lint just wanted to be good for him, just like the King had wanted him to-

“Didn’t you ever have another name?”

A part of Lint, inside, froze, but he managed to not let it show on the surface. He forcefully pushed the fear back that was radiating from his core, back to where it couldn’t do any harm, like showing on his face or making him tremble. “No,” he hummed, turning his head so his cheek was now against the prince’s leg, and raised a hand to trace gentle fingers around his kneecap. For the first time this evening, he felt the urge to push higher without express command; anything to get out of this line of conversation.

But of course he couldn’t do that. Instead, he looked up at the prince again, and tried a cute pout. “Won’t you tell me what you want?” He carefully kept his voice soft, playful.

“What about you?” the prince said, unmoving.

Lint tilted his head. He couldn’t figure the prince out, and he hated being this confused, but kept a smile on his lips. “I don’t know what you...”

“What do you want?”

Not this. He hated this game. He knew he could only lose. Say Whatever you want again, and the prince would keep pushing him into this corner. Guess what it was the prince wanted, and almost certainly get it wrong. Even more certainly than with the King.

Not to mention the question usually meant his master wanted him to get it wrong, so there were no right answers to begin with. The King didn’t do this to him often, but Lint hated this game.

“You,” he sighed, fully expecting the prince to chastise him - or worse, whatever the prince’s definition of not too rough was; he knew the King’s, but he hadn’t specified to the prince, after all.

The prince leant forward, and Lint followed the movement, allowing him to close in, of course, but also giving him room. He could feel the smile on his lips becoming more strained, but he hoped it wasn’t showing; it mustn’t be showing.

“No, I mean it,” the prince said, furrowing his brow again. “What do you want, right this moment? What would you like to do?”

Lint wanted to scream. He wanted to go to the King, his real master, curl up by his side, please him in any way that didn’t involve dealing with his guest who went out of his way to confuse and trap Lint.

But none of that mattered. The King wanted him to be good for the guest, and Lint wanted whatever his master wanted.

“I want to please you,” he said, leaning forward a little, keeping his eyes on the prince’s face. As far as royalty went, he looked fairly average. Young, perhaps younger than Lint. “I just don’t know how.”

The prince held his gaze for a moment, and a weary look fell over his face before he fell back into the chair. “Alright. Alright then. Let’s go to bed.”

He pushed himself up from the chair with force, and Lint slid to the side, out of his way, before getting up himself, as gracefully as he had slumped down. There seemed to be a knot in his stomach. He didn’t want to go to bed with anyone other than the King, it just didn’t feel right; but at the same time, of course he wanted what his master wanted.

Either way, this was better than the dreadful uncertainty. He could be good in bed, whatever it was the prince wanted, specifically.

The prince led the way into the bedroom of the suite without looking back, and all Lint had to do was to follow.

He closed in when the prince started to undo the buttons of his shirt, his back to Lint, and carefully ran a hand up his shoulder, but the prince shook him off with a violent motion.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Lint whispered, the knot in his stomach tightening. He went to lounge on the bed instead, propping himself up on his elbows. The prince kept his back towards him and stripped in quick, efficient motions, so Lint took it he was not invited to look. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead in one hand, so that when the prince turned around, he would see Lint respected his wishes, even the unspoken ones. This was how it should be. Despite everything, Lint managed to relax a little. He would rather it was the King, but he could do this, and do it well.

Finally, after some more rustling of clothes, Lint heard the light tap of bare feet approaching the bed. But the prince wasn’t coming to him; instead, he walked up to the other side of the bed. The mattress gave under his weight, and Lint rolled over to look at him, longingly.

The prince had put on his nightshirt, and his brow was still furrowed. “Sleep.” He slipped under the covers, and blew out the light.

Lint lay in the darkness, trying to figure out what this meant. Had he done so poorly? Or did he misunderstand the prince? “Master?” he asked softly, reaching out to caress him. Surely he didn’t mean-

“I said don’t,” the prince said, his voice now obviously strained. “Just go to sleep. I would appreciate it if you could not tell his Majesty about this, but I understand if you can’t do that. Now sleep.”

Lint tried his best to obey. It was the least he could do after this absolute failure of an evening. He didn’t even know what he had done wrong - but surely he had done something wrong.

He had just wanted to be good.

He had just wanted what his master wanted.

She pointed him at another door a floor down, and he left the bag with her while he tiptoed to Lint’s door. He didn’t dare knock lest anyone else hear him. He prayed to every god of love that the king hadn’t changed his mind and fetched Lint to keep him company tonight.

He hadn’t. Lint’s slender figure was sprawled across the bed, alone. He wasn’t sleeping deeply; Arracen could hear him murmur in his dreams, and when he put a hand on Lint’s shoulder, his eyes flew open immediately. His lips curled into their usual adoring smile before he could have recognized anything. “Master?” he murmured sleepily.

“It’s me,” Arracen whispered.

Lint hoisted himself up on his elbows. “Arracen?” Now he allowed himself to sound confused. His smile faded a little, but became more genuine in exchange, or so Arracen wanted to believe.

“Yes. Come on - get dressed.” He tried to strike the right balance between friendly and commanding. He had long pondered whether he should tell Lint what was going on, but they simply didn’t have time to risk a discussion - or worse. That didn’t make him feel any better about doing it this way, though.

Lint obeyed, like he always obeyed. “Where are we going?” he asked while he slipped into what was supposedly clothes. Arracen would have to borrow him some of his until they got home. He was glad Lint was asking questions - he never would have asked that from the king, he was sure.

“You’ll see. Come on.”

Lint followed him, trustingly, and Arracen could feel a white-hot spark of shame in his guts. Still, it was for Lint’s best, and he would surely see it that way once he had time and distance to think it all through.

“Nelisa!” Lint greeted her joyously when they rejoined her.

“Hey, Lint,” she replied, turning away even as she spoke under the guise of having to lead the way, and Arracen was sure she felt the same as him.

They got to the stables without incident, just as planned, and then out through their back.

Out.

They were free.

For a moment, Arracen’s heart stopped when there was no sign of the carriage he had arranged, before a dark figure stepped out between the trees into the light of the lantern Nelisa had lit, and bowed.

“Your Highness.”

Arracen could feel a smile spread across his lips, and not because of the address. They hadn’t just sent someone - they’d sent the spymaster herself.

They were in good hands. They were going to be alright.

“Spymaster,” he breathed, not even trying to hide his relief. When he noticed her taking in his companions, he only said, as firmly as he could, “They’re coming with me.”

Her eyes briefly caught on the bag he was carrying himself, but then she shrugged. “Follow me.”

Lint threw him questioning glances while they walked a short way through the dark copse, until they reached the carriage hidden at its other end, but Arracen didn’t look at him, only took his hand and squeezed it, feeling like a liar.

The spymaster gestured for them to enter. Nelisa, who had been in front with the lantern, gave Arracen a questioning look of her own, but didn’t even wait for a reply when she saw his stupid smile. They climbed into the carriage while the spymaster took the driver’s seat.

As soon as Arracen had shut the door, they drove off. He let himself fall back into his seat opposite the other two-

“Where are we going?” Lint looked at him, wide-eyed, his perpetual smile still on his lips.

Arracen wished he could have told him before. That he could have trusted Lint to trust him. Was he really better than the king they were running from? He pushed the thought aside. “Home,” he said, and when Lint gave him a confused look, “My country.” He felt he should say something more, something reassuring. He didn’t expect Lint to be grateful, not yet, but he hoped he would understand...

Lint’s smile trickled away. “Why didn’t the King tell me-?”

“The King doesn’t know.”

The colour drained from Lint’s face so fast Arracen was worried he would faint. “What-? You-”

“You deserve better than this,” Arracen said quietly, pleadingly.

“You’re stealing me,” Lint breathed, a look of absolute horror on his face. His eyes flickered to the door, and Arracen was half-prepared to throw himself over to where he was sitting, and stop him from flinging himself from the moving carriage. “You’re - you can’t do this. You have to bring me back-”

“Lint, you deserve better than being treated as a toy.”

“But I am!” Arracen had never heard Lint so close to shouting. He was clinging on to himself, squeezing himself into the corner of the carriage, looking at Arracen with a fear Arracen had never wanted to see. “I belong to, to the King, you have to take me back! I belong to him! You can’t, you can’t just steal me-” He was breathing fast, like a cornered animal.

“Lint, it’s going to be alright-”

“It’s - no! No! You - you can’t do this - I belong to - you have to take me back to my master, please, you can’t just take me away-”

Nelisa had watched quietly, but now she carefully leant closer. “Lint.” Her voice was quiet, and maybe Lint actually hadn’t heard her in his frenzy.

“You’re a - I - I thought you were a good person! I - you’re a thief!” He was crying now, and Arracen wished he knew how to comfort him. The begging, the accusation, the despair and fear - it was breaking his heart. But he was not taking Lint back to be an apathetic pet again. He had hoped, after all their little excursions, that Lint was ready for this. How foolish he had been.

“You’re a thief,” Lint whispered. “You’re a thief, you’re stealing me-”

“Lint,” Nelisa said, louder. “He’s not stealing you. He’s freeing you.”

Lint flinched, pressing himself further into the corner as he backed away from her as well. “You. You knew this. You’re a traitor-” He sobbed, tears now running freely down his face. “I thought, I thought you were- you-” His eyes flickered between the two of them. “You’re a traitor and a thief and I, I almost thought- you have to bring me back, please-” He pleadingly stared at Arracen.

Arracen could only shake his head.

Lint moaned with pain, covered his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could make the world around him go away.

Arracen felt his heart break with every beat. He hadn’t expected Lint to be grateful, not yet, but he hadn’t expected him to feel this blatantly betrayed.