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A king crosses the threshold of one of the kingdoms bordering his own. A moment later, the wind picks up, a strange presence enveloping him accompanied by the scent of the wilds after a rain. The king pauses where he is, only a step out of his territory, as the strange presence solidifies into something much more tangible.
"King Michael," Free says with a grin, clearly pleased. He maintains eye contact, a refreshing surprise. Most don't dare, but Michael is glad he does - the green he sees cannot be properly described. The only words he has are damnedly inaccurate. "I didn't think you would come."
"I'm many things, mage, but a coward is not one of them," Michael replies, regarding the man in front of him warily...but with interest. He has held true to his word, yes. Come to the border shared between your and Ramsey's kingdoms at dawn, alone, he had been told. All this for one man. It has led him to Free, at least, and something about the mage's gaze intrigues him.
"I would expect nothing less from you, king of beasts....and I have the potion you requested, my lord," Free's hand disappears into the satchel at his hip for a moment and returns holding a bottle of dark liquid - just barely a midnight blue, if the king squints.
"My kingdom is in your debt so long as you wish it, as you know. I cannot possibly pay you back for a life saved," Michael replies, holding a hand out for the bottle. It is placed there quite readily by the mage who produced it, but Free is already halfway gone by the time Michael's fingers close around its neck.
The only indication he has that he was heard is the warm breeze that caresses his cheek as it passes and a faint whisper of a temporary goodbye.
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"Raise your head and face your death with pride," the same king says years later, brandishing his sword in the direction of a cowering commoner. When he receives no response, he uses the flat of his blade to lift the man's chin himself. When his eyes meet those of a piercing green, he is almost inclined to drop his sword. Instead, it falls to his side as he regards who he now knows is the mage at his feet, Gavin Free.
"Rise," he says, finally, and when the mage makes no move to do so, he offers a hand to help him. It is taken with no more than a moment's hesitation. As Free rises, Michael can see that his leg is badly injured.
"Healer!" the king calls, pulling the mage to his side to sling his arm around the king's own shoulders, to provide any support he can, but before any such healer is summoned, Free is gone once again.
This time, Michael feels a breeze ruffle his hair in a rather violent fashion as it departs, and he turns back to his men. It's time to go home.
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"Do you believe in fate?" Michael says the next time he finds that sandy brown hair, those startlingly green eyes.
"Perhaps," Free replies, quietly enough that Michael leans in to be sure he hears every word the mage at his side has to say. "Do you?"
Michael holds his gaze for a moment. "Third time's a charm?"
"You waste no time," Free grins, gesturing at the rather large spread in front of them. "Was this party meant to lure me here?"
"Perhaps," Michael replies. There is a sparkle in his eyes not many have seen. "Did it work?"
"Third time's a charm," Free replies. "King Michael-"
"Just Michael," the king interrupts with something akin to a grimace on his lips. He doesn't like to hope - prefers things to be concrete in the way magic is not - but he has been connected to this mage, somehow, since the first time they'd met. He doesn't want to associate him with the stuffy nobility of his court nor the commoners that worship him.
"Call me Gavin, then," the mage replies with a grin. "I can feel you last-naming me from here."
Michael could laugh. He might not be able to understand magic, but, he supposes, it's not half bad, and neither is Free. Gavin. Him.
"Would you like to get some air?" Michael asks, offering his arm.
"The courtyard is full," Gavin says, but takes it. Immediately, something lights up in the king. Gavin is electric to touch. He wants more of it.
"The courtyard isn't the only place with air," Michael grins more widely this time, leading his guest away from the refreshments and into a separate wing of the castle, away from the celebration. They come to a balcony without much ado, and Michael closes the doors behind them to avoid any unwanted disturbances.
"When we met those years ago, on the border," Michael begins after a moment of silence, used by both to take in the stars and feel the air after being stuffed into a ballroom with a thousand other people for hours on end. "Did you know we would meet again?"
"I suffer from premonitions, yes," the mage - Gavin - replies with a bit of long-suffering humour between the lines. "I was not aware of when, or where, but I have seen your future, and I have known for years now that you would play a part in mine."
"How large of a part?" Michael asks, taking a step toward the other man on the balcony. Not much distance is left between them, but it is enough that it is clear Gavin will be deciding what happens next.
"Quite, but I won't tell you any secrets," he replies, stepping up to the king. An act of extreme courage, from anyone else. From Gavin, it seems almost teasing. "Why don't you decide for yourself?"
Michael takes this - Gavin's words, his demeanor, the way his hand moves to Michael's arm the second he steps into his personal space - as an invitation to lean in and kiss him, and it is just as exhilarating as he had hoped. Something passes between them, something meaningful but just as electric as when they had first touched in the ballroom, and they break apart a few moments later smiling and slightly out of breath.
"Who are you?" Michael asks jubilantly, not really expecting an answer but suddenly wanting to know everything about the man in front of him.
Gavin's eyes alight with something fierce. Michael decides he would like to see him sure of himself more often. "Gavin Free, born thief, royal mage of the kingdom of Ramsey. Son of none."
"Friend of many. Nomad. Scholar. Beautiful," Michael replies, still unable to wipe the stupid grin from his face.
"I suppose I can cross 'kiss king of beasts' from my bucket list," Gavin says, surprisingly lightheartedly considering how intense he had been only moments ago.
"Well, I get to cross 'kiss that mage' from mine, but I get to add things, now, as well."
"Like what?"
"Like 'take that mage out for dinner somewhere nice' and 'somehow keep Gavin Free here for more than fifteen seconds at a time', aside from this very moment, of course."
"That could be arranged," Gavin grins, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Michael. The king is almost surprised, but does the same to envelop the mage in his arms with just as much fervor. He feels a sudden swell of something akin to passion for the man beside him. Not love, but it is much gentler than the fierceness he feels in battle.
"You would stay here with me?"
"I can't deny we have a link stronger than almost any I've felt, but I can't make any promises now," Gavin replies, loosening his hold a bit to meet Michael's gaze. There is determination lingering in his eyes, as well as something that looks dangerously close to hope. "There are too many things keeping me away, but for now, I can visit, and later, if we decide it appropriate, I can stay."
Michael is unsure how exactly this happened, why, of all people, the gods chose him for this mage with the world in his eyes, but he knows with some concrete certainty he will do his best to make him happy, and he will keep him safe if it kills him. Through Heaven and Hell, they say, and for the first time, he thinks he might understand why.
"When can I expect to see you again?" Michael asks as Gavin steps away, a sadness in the set of his shoulders.
"As soon as I can get time away, whether that is a week or a year," Gavin replies, reaching to grasp Michael's hand. He twines their fingers together after a moment. That same burst of electricity passes between them once again, and Michael smiles, lifting his other hand to brush the mage's cheek as he fades, slowly this time.
"I'll be waiting," he whispers, already missing the feeling of Gavin's hand within his own.
The only indication he has that he was heard is the warm breeze that caresses his cheek as it passes and a faint whisper of a temporary goodbye, but Michael knows, this time, he cannot forget the mage with the world in his eyes.