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Once, there were two kings who had grown up during a time of peace. Their fathers, the kings before them, had encouraged their friendship and they had grown close. When they married, they were each other’s best men. Every year, they made sure to visit each other, dragging their loving wives with them.
Both were overjoyed to discover that they would be having children, even more so when they would be born within months of each other. The Losrech child would be born first, followed a few months later by the Dynras child. With their children being born so close together, the kings decided to hold a joint celebration after the second child had settled somewhat. So it was that, in the middle of spring, Prince Gilbert of Losrech was brought along with his parents to meet Prince Arthur of Dynras.
Such was their happiness that the two monarchs invited everyone in their kingdoms to the capital. Camps grew outside the city’s walls to house the sheer number of guests that it couldn’t hold. Bright colours were seen everywhere, the buildings draped with varying decorations. The noise levels increased with every day that brought the gala and palace ball closer. Even some of the better known magical creatures attended, such as Elizaveta, the fairy godmother.
She was quite impressed by the amount of thought that had been spared by the monarchs. They paid for everything, with assurances that their alliance was better than ever and their economy would make up any discrepancies. The people had rallied and most of them volunteered to cook or entertain those that had come from afar. Most importantly, of those magical beings that had any connection to the royals, all had been invited. Elizaveta didn’t need to be on the look-out for any completely avoidable interruptions.
Finally, the day dawned that would be the noisiest and most fun-filled yet. Everyone was excited to see the princes. But, before either of them were to be presented, those that held special invitations could enter the palace and offer gifts. Most of them were toymakers, eager to make a good impression and increase their trade. A few of them happened to be in Elizaveta’s profession and she was pleased to see them bestow appropriate blessings on them.
Elizaveta stepped up to the dais where the royals sat, their thrones all equal in size. The cribs were beside the queens, right next to each other. The queen of Dynras was fussing over her son as Elizaveta approached and she smiled when she saw that. It looked as though Arthur would be well looked after. When Elizaveta peeked into Gilbert’s crib, she found him fast asleep, tiny hands clenched in fists as he breathed deeply. His mother was unable to hide her smile: Gilbert would also be happy, Elizaveta was sure.
“Welcome, Godmother,” said the king of Losrech, kindly red eyes fixed on her as he spoke. “I am glad to see that you made it so far.”
Bowing her head respectfully, Elizaveta said, “I made an exception. It is always a pleasure to see future monarchs.”
“They will be fast friends, I’m sure,” said the king of Dynras.
“I shall endeavour to make sure that happens,” Elizaveta replied. “That shall be my blessing.”
Producing her wand, Elizaveta stood over their cribs. To work the spell, she touched the slim piece of sing-wood to each baby’s nose, pausing only to marvel at how brightly intense Prince Arthur’s green eyes were. She left the wand pointed down at them as she opened her mouth to say her blessing. But she stopped when she felt her wand tug at her grip. Surprised, she watched as her wand began to emit multi-coloured sparks. Before either of the queens could grow alarmed, Elizaveta tilted her wand upwards and watched as the sparks became a fountain of lights and glitter, the tail ends of it dissipating over both princes.
Behind her, the crowd oohed. A nearby fairy gasped in recognition. Dynras’s king leaned forward, frowning in confusion. “What does this mean?” he asked.
“It means…” Elizaveta was still amazed at what had just transpired and she had to clear her throat before she continued. “It means that these two princes are soulmates.”
“‘Soulmates’?” Losrech’s queen echoed. “Does that mean… they will be together?”
“They’ll be married?” asked Arthur’s mother looking delighted.
“Well,” said Elizaveta, not wanting to shatter her joy so early by explaining to her that that wasn’t how soulmates always worked. Unfortunately, the royals took her hesitance to mean yes and the two kings jumped to their feet.
“Our sons will bring our kingdoms together even further!” Gilbert’s father exclaimed. “This is the best thing to happen!”
“Our kingdoms will be prosperous,” Arthur’s father agreed. “This means that there is even more to celebrate!”
As the royals eagerly began to discuss when and where their sons would marry, Elizaveta closed her eyes and reached to her magic. It had identified them as soulmates but it could also show her the near future. Seeing what she did had her eyes flying open, horror colouring her expression. She looked down at the poor babies, wishing she could take back what she had said. But it was done now and there was no way to change it without making the matter worse.
There was one way, though, that she could still help them…
The blessing I had prepared,” Elizaveta said, catching their attention, “will not help them, not when they are destined to be as close as they will be. Allow me to bestow upon them something else.”
“Of course!” the queen of Dynras exclaimed, excitedly.
Smiling, Elizaveta raised her wand and waved it in a complicated motion. The air shimmered and, soon, a shiny shape began to form. Eventually, the silver heart that appeared solidified. Two little rings appeared on either side of it. An intricate design carved its way into it just as two thin chains looped through the rings. Then Elizaveta tapped the heart and it broke in half, the crack a smooth, rolling cut. They hung in the air, hanging from the chains to reveal matching necklaces.
“These protective amulets,” Elizaveta told them, “will protect them both when they cannot be with each other. They will also ease their separation.” She bowed her head slightly to the queens and, when they nodded, she lowered them into the cribs, tucking them close to each baby. What she had said was true, but there was also another reason for them and, as she leaned in to kiss them both goodbye, she whispered it to them, her words magically lodging in their heads so they would remember them in time.
When she straightened, she saw that Arthur had caught hold of the necklace’s chain and was waving it around. Gilbert had shifted, his hand clutching at his half of the heart firmly. With a final smile at them and their parents, Elizaveta stepped away, hoping the other fairies’ blessings would be enough to protect them both until they could meet again.
Nearly 18 years later, Prince Gilbert of Losrech stood just outside Dyrnas’s capital city. Or, rather, he stood across the valley from it. The city had been built at one end of a long valley with any extensions sprawling along one slope. Buildings towered over the river below. On the other side of the tip was the main road which wound through a forested area. Gilbert stood at the edge of that, staring at the walls and windows and battlements. The distant bustle of the city still reached him and he tightened his grip on his pack, well aware that people could be cruel enough to steal from even a supposed peasant.
“Woah!” said a voice by his side. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Gilbert could believe that. Both of his companions (who had tired enough that they had been lagging behind) were the sons of a farmer near the southern shore of the country. Alfred and Matthew had grown up surrounded by fields and farm animals. They were also only a day’s ride or two days walk to the ocean. Neither of them had been in a city, only the market towns that surrounded their farm.
Not that Gilbert had been in a city lately, either.
“Yeah,” Gilbert conceded. “It’s impressive.”
“There’s the palace,” said Matthew on his other side. Gilbert almost jumped when Matthew spoke: he was the quieter of the twins and he hadn’t heard him approach. “We’re almost at our goal.”
Looking back to the city, Gilbert followed the city to its top. There, tall and broad towers stretched into the sky. A red roof stretched between them. The rest of it was obscured by the rest of the city’s buildings and Gilbert was a little relieved. Maybe he would turn and leave if he could see the entirety of it.
“We’ve still got a long way to go,” he warned them, shoving aside his doubts. “They won’t let us just go in.”
“Still,” said Alfred, grinning. “We’re gonna be knights!”
The confidence in his voice had Gilbert smiling but he wasn’t completely at ease. “Let’s go,” he said, and led the way along the path.
Despite accompanying his foster-brothers, Gilbert was worried. It wasn’t every day that an enemy prince simply walked into the capital city. Then again, technically, Losrech was no longer at war with Dynras. But that was only because Losrech had been stretched too thin, what with fighting wars on three fronts. Destiroy and Sudkor had attacked Losrech shortly after they had increased their troops on their Dynras border. It hadn’t been long before both kingdoms had captured sizeable chunks of land from the smaller country. There had been chaos when this had happened, none of the soldiers sure who to fight or where to march.
During this chaos, Prince Gilbert had been smuggled away from the palace. His parents were dead but he’d been entrusted to an old friend of his father’s who took him across a war-torn country. They had sneaked through the Dynras’s confused border patrol, none of them sure where the soldiers they had once been pushing against had gone. Some, Gilbert had heard, suspected a sneak attack. It was a miracle that they managed to travel across Dynras, especially with Gilbert’s white hair and red eyes, one of the few native Losrech signs there were. But, eventually, they had made it to Alfred and Matthew’s farm where the knight had seen that there were children Gilbert’s age. Somehow, he had convinced the farmer to take him in and left him with strict instructions to be careful.
Scared, Gilbert had been slow to warm to the two genial twins. Thankfully, they were patient or oblivious and they wormed their way under his defences. One of the reasons it took so long to win him over was because Gilbert had never had friends his own age before. His only friend had been his tutor, Old Fritz, who was now dead. They had been in the palace closest to Sudkor and Old Fritz had sent Gilbert away just before it was stormed but the Sudkors. Gilbert had only been there because his parents wanted him as far from the fighting against Dynras as possible.
And yet, here he was, about to walk into their capital city and sign up to be a knight. This was not in some sort of loyalty that Gilbert had to this kingdom that had taken him in. Rather, he felt that he needed to get back his throne at some point. Rumours had reached him that the prince was campaigning to help the Losrech refugees claim back their kingdom. The king agreed with him and was already mobilising to fight off the Destiroyans and Sudkors. If Gilbert could be in his army sometime soon, he could reach his homeland and reclaim his throne.
Which would only work if they could be taken on as knights…
At the entrance to the city, they were stopped for the papers which Alfred had. Thankfully, Gilbert had been given some as a refugee. Unfortunately, he would have to start remembering the fake name he had chosen. Alfred and Matthew both knew who he was and were happy to keep it secret, for which he was thankful. But, if he told anyone in this capital city that he was called Gilbert, while looking like he did, suspicions were sure to be raised. Would they simply kill him or drag him in front of the royal family for judgement?
They passed into the city with very little resistance and were at once distracted. Both twins stared in awe at the tall buildings and the people going to and fro, always busy. Gilbert, meanwhile, pulled on his memories to make comparisons. While most of the outer buildings in his own capital city were plain, here there were decorations, most of them faded, none of them looked at by the locals. The people themselves were far busier than he remembered Losrechans to be.
As they got closer to the centre of the city, everything increased. People were walking around or rushing to another destination. Others were outside their storefronts, working. Carts and coaches slowly made his way through the crowds, men and women alike shouting at their animals. More people were also touting their wares, trying to attract customers. Blacksmiths pounded on metal, tailors pinned their cloth, butchers chopped, fishmongers deboned, innkeepers dragged barrels of beer. Delicious food smells mixed with horse and dog scents. The stench of shit was only covered up in small whiffs by the flowers which flowed over window boxes.
Children darted between everyone, laughing and shouting. Some seemed to be playing a game of tag. Older children, however, were doing something quite different. Gilbert watched as an older kid bumped into a man, obviously there on business or visiting since he kept looking around. Once the boy apologised, he dashed off, something in his hand he hadn’t held before. So, Gilbert realised, there were pickpockets here, too. Thankfully, he had nothing valuable to steal - save for the necklace which he kept hidden from everyone.
It had been with him since he was a baby. His mother used to say that it was an amulet, that it would protect him from harm. Somehow, though, Gilbert knew, somewhere deep down, that if he ever met anyone with the same necklace, one that fit perfectly against the curvy edge, he would have found the person he was meant to be with. During his escape, he hadn’t held out hope, knowing it was far too dangerous for him to meet anyone like that. In fact, it would likely be too dangerous until he managed to return home.
Eventually, they reached the building where those hoping to be knights signed up. It was set into a long wall which separated the castle from the rest of the city. A sign above it read Sign-Ups, as if they were confident that everyone would know what they meant. There was a man on guard outside it, bored and staring out over the crowd. His clothing was simplistic but he carried a sword on his belt and Gilbert could see a sheath for a knife. He perked up when he saw them coming and stopped them for their papers. Gilbert was confused about that until he got inside and saw that there was an open door, also guarded, which led to the palace grounds beyond. They were asked several questions at a large desk but were ultimately accepted into the knights’ academy by a serious looking man. Since it was so late, however, they were told to find somewhere to stay so they could get their barracks ready for them in the morning.
Happy, they left, Alfred practically bouncing. He chattered their ears off as they went from inn to inn, unable to find somewhere to stay within their budget. They were getting further and further from the palace as the sun began to lower in the sky. Gilbert’s heart sank with it, thinking they’d have to arrive for their first day in a mess after spending the night in an alleyway.
“Do you think they give us swords right away, or only once we’ve started practice?” Alfred was asking as he walked backwards, grinning at them.
Matthew sighed. “We’ll find out tomorrow, Al. Calm down and hel-”
He was interrupted when someone bumped into Alfred and almost sent him sprawling. Alfred managed to stay on his feet and spun around, an apology on the tip of his tongue. Then they saw who they were dealing with. A group of men their age stood before them, their lips curled in obvious disgust. All of them wore elegant fabrics and quality stitching, all golds and dark blues. Pins on their lapels signalled that they were trainee knights, perhaps strolling through town on their day off.
“We heard you talking,” said a blond man, sneering at them. His blue eyes pierced through the trio. Gilbert, however, couldn’t stop staring at the rather large mole the man had under his left eye.
“Yeah?” said Alfred in confusion.
“So you think you’re going to be knights, do you?”
“Well, yeah. Once we’ve trained.”
Mole-Man sneered. “We don’t want the likes of you.”
Gilbert rolled his eyes. “And you think you’re any better?” he demanded.
“Gil,” Matthew murmured, clearly worried.
The student looked Gilbert up and down. “For one, only nobles are knights.”
“Anyone can sign up!” Alfred protested, ignoring the way his twin tugged at his arm.
“Those without money are there for standing around and looking official,” Mole-Man told them, matter-of-factly. “The nobles are the real knights. You should be lugging cow and horse shit around.”
Alfred looked genuinely baffled so Gilbert jumped in. “Well, we’ve been accepted so there’s mole- sorry, no way we’ll drop out now.”
Eyes narrowing, Mole-Man stepped forward. “You’ll be thrown out before you’ve even started. You may have fooled everyone else, spy, but no-one will want to teach a Leech like you anything.”
That made Matthew come forward. “He’s not a spy! Losrechans are refugees and entitled to enlist.”
“Doesn’t mean we’re desperate enough to let these freaks in.”
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Gilbert willed away his anger. He couldn’t afford to rise to this man’s insults. After all, he was a prince and royals did not voice their dislike of others. It was a diplomacy thing. So, as sarcastically as possible, Gilbert said, “I’m sorry you think like that. Doesn’t matter what you think, though. So get lost.”
Instead of doing what he was told, Mole-Man stepped closer, leaning into Gilbert’s space. “Your demon eyes don’t frighten me so I don’t think I will.”
“That’s a shame,” said Gilbert, without thinking. “Your mole frightens me, so-”
The punch was slow, obvious and with little force behind it. Gilbert managed to get his arms up to block it but he still stumbled back a step. Unfortunately, his boot slipped on a small stone and he was sent sprawling on the ground. Frustrated, he tried to get to his feet before Mole-Man could do anything else, but a boot came flying towards him. Gilbert tried to roll away and the blow struck on his hip, thankfully lighter than if he had stayed. Still, it was painful and he hissed as he tried to crawl out of the way. Glancing over, he saw that one of the men had a knife at Matthew’s throat and Alfred had frozen, wide-eyed, not sure which of them to help first. Just as Gilbert raised a hand to wave him off and to focus on Matthew, a voice rang out over the scene.
“And just what is going on here?” it said, calm and even.
Looking up from his position on the ground, Gilbert took in the newcomer. He was also blond, though his hair was darker than Mole-Man’s. His hair had been slicked back at some point during the day but the strands were falling back down, making it a mess. Bright, intensely bright, green eyes stared at them all, looking at each person in turn. A dark green tunic separated him from the nobles attacking them, but only barely. There were silver accents stitched into it and his belt buckle was clearly silver. Gilbert could see a songbird had been carved into it, wings spread wide, a twig in its beak. Even his boots and trousers were expensive: it was impossible in Gilbert’s mind that this man would risk getting covered in dust.
He also carried with him an air of experienced authority and was frowning with rather large eyebrows at Mole-Man and his lackeys.
“They want to be knights,” Mole-Man told him, frowning back at him. “I was only trying to put them in their place.”
“If they want to be knights, then they should enlist,” said the man. “And if they have enlisted, you would do well to leave them alone. You should focus on your own studies - clearly, they are lacking if you think to lower the knights’ reputation with this crude display.”
“But this one is a-” Mole-Man gestured at Gilbert as he spoke and the newcomer seemed to understand.
“A what?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“A Losrechan freak. Something like that shouldn’t be-”
Mole-Man didn’t get a chance to finish. Newbie darted forward so quickly that Gilbert could only flinch in response. He opened his eyes again just in time to see the man plough his fist right into Mole-Man’s jaw. His friends cried out and one of them leapt forward as Mole-Man fell backwards, joining Gilbert on the ground. But Newbie was undeterred as he grabbed hold of the new attacker’s arm and flipped him over, right on top of Mole-Man. Their heads cracked together and they groaned, the one on top rolling off to curl up on the dirty ground. The one with the knife shoved Matthew into Alfred’s arms and jabbed in the newcomer’s direction. But Newbie was undeterred and kicked out, his foot catching on the man’s knee. He crumpled with a cry of pain and Newbie turned to take care of the other three.
“Please!” exclaimed one of them. “We’re sorry! It won’t happen again!”
“See that it doesn’t,” said the man in a prim tone, as if he hadn’t just beaten up half of an antagonised group of men looking for a fight. He eyed them for a moment. “Are you aware of who I am?”
“Yes! We’re so sorry-”
“Good,” said the man. “I think I shall deduct your pay for the next month - from all of you. Never do this again or you will be sent back to your country homes.”
Terrified, Mole-Man’s friends helped the downed men to their feet and they hobbled off. As soon as they were gone, Alfred moved again, turning his brother to fuss over him, frowning at a thin line of blood which Gilbert could see even on the ground. Gilbert grimaced. Maybe that was his fault for riling the man up. Then again, he hadn’t started the fight…
A hand suddenly thrust itself into Gilbert’s face. Gilbert blinked at it for a moment before accepting the stranger’s help. “I’m sorry that your first impression of this city has been that,” he said. “Have you really enlisted to become a knight?”
“Um, yeah,” said Gilbert, sheepishly. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Up close, Gilbert could see a smattering of freckles on the man’s nose and cheeks, too light to be seen except from this close.
“What are you doing out here and not in the barracks?”
“We’ve to go back in the morning. We were just looking for an inn but everywhere’s too expens-”
“Your Highness!” came a cry from behind the stranger and Gilbert glanced up, alarmed. He wasn’t ready to meet the prince! Instinctively, he dropped the hand he hadn’t realised he was still holding. Once he had, the stranger turned more to see who was shouting.
Behind him, another man approached. His long, black hair was braided and draped over one shoulder. He wore long, pale green robes with a matching hat. The ribbon around the hat kept a pen and feather from escaping. And, from the appearance of a hilt, a knife was also kept there. He hurried straight for the stranger who had helped them and stopped, panting slightly.
“Where did you go?!” he demanded of Newbie. “You can’t just leave me like that!”
“One of the children told me there was a commotion on this street,” Newbie explained. “I came to investigate.”
Realisation was dawning on Gilbert and he gaped at the man. “You’re-?” he said.
But the long-haired man talked over him. “What?! What did you do this time?”
“Nothing too bad. There are some men who need their pay docked but, other than that, everyone’s fine.” The man gestured behind him and seemed to remember the people he had just saved. He turned back to Gilbert and saw his expression. Instead of the shame Gilbert expected, the man laughed. “Ah, yes. Welcome to the knights training course. I’m Prince Arthur of Dynras. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re the prince?!” Gilbert tried to calm himself, willing his heart to slow as he attempted to wrap his head around this. “I- What?”
Again, Arthur laughed. “What, didn’t think your prince could fight?”
“I… No? Isn’t that what we’re for?”
Still amused, Arthur shrugged a shoulder. “It’s for emergencies.”
“Of which breaking up a street fight isn’t one,” said the man.
That time, Arthur winced. “Yes…” He looked back to Gilbert and tilted his head in consideration. Finally, he said, “This is Yao, my advisor, as appointed by my father. And you are…?”
“Klaus,” Gilbert answered, pleased to remember his assumed name. “This is Alfred and Matthew. The loud one’s Alfred.”
“Hey!” Alfred exclaimed, coming closer.
“I see,” said Arthur, amused. “Well, I am glad to have you as my knights. You seem like honourable people. Now, you need an inn. Yao,” Arthur said as he turned to his advisor. “Please make sure these three find a room in an inn close to the palace. They mustn’t be late for their first day tomorrow.”
“What-? You don’t need to do that,” said Gilbert, hurriedly.
Arthur looked at him from the corner of his eye. “You’ll do as you’re told. Don’t disappoint me.” And, without a further word, Arthur turned and stalked off, leaving an exasperated Yao in his wake.
Gilbert couldn’t believe how much time had passed. In only a few months, he had been through intensive training: drills, sparring, civil duties. It was just as he had imagined it, from what he had remembered from his time in his own kingdom. Now, though, he was actually living what his people had gone through for his family and he was enjoying himself. When he had to leave, it was going to be upsetting.
But he was going to be even more upset when he had to leave the prince behind.
At first, Gilbert couldn’t understand why he kept coming to the training grounds. Then some of their fellow trainees - the friendlier ones - told him that it was because the prince was rarely allowed to be around Losrechans, though his campaigning had softened his father’s resolve. He just so happened to be the first Losrechan the prince had ever seen and he was, apparently, interested in him. Gilbert’s heart had skipped a beat at that. Apparently, the rumours about Arthur was true and he wanted to push the Destiroyans and Sudkars from Dynras’s border. Then he planned to clear them out from the rest of the kingdom and let the refugees migrate back. It would solve the problem of their border conflicts and the overcrowded camps that had popped up after the invasion. Arthur was very passionate about it and Gilbert was relieved enough that he was able to talk to him without panicking now.
Unfortunately, guilt settled in its place as Gilbert grew to know Arthur better and Arthur found companionship in ‘Klaus’.
Their friendship was why he was currently on the sparring ground, white top stained with dirt and sweat. He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to get rid of the sweat dripping from it. A staff was in one hand which he had to pass to his other in order to wipe his palm on his dusty trousers. Arthur stood opposite him. He was immaculate, the only sign he had been exerting any energy was the fact that he’d undone the top button of his tunic. Gilbert had definitely knocked him off his feet a couple of times already so how he’d managed that was a mystery. Arthur was by far the better fighter of the two and he didn’t look as exhausted as Gilbert probably did. Behind him, the sun was setting which, thankfully, meant that everyone was more interested in dinner than coming to find him. For now, it would be best if no-one knew how quickly he’d caught the prince’s eye.
“Come along, Klaus,” said Arthur, with amusement. “I thought you said that you’d gotten better.”
“I have!” Gilbert protested. “You’re just brilliant, as usual, and I can’t keep up.”
That made Arthur’s face redden and Gilbert counted that as a victory. One against the many Arthur consistently scored against him. “I’m not as good as my tutors,” Arthur said, glancing away. “But forget that. One more time and then we can both break to eat.”
Gilbert’s response was to grin and change his stance. Arthur didn’t bother moving, smirking at Gilbert. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Gilbert darted forward, swinging his staff. His opponent only shifted minutely, bringing up his staff to block him. Thankfully, Gilbert had put enough force in his swing that Arthur had to step back for breathing room to keep from being knocked over.
Before Gilbert could press his advantage, Arthur leaned backwards and spun his staff. The bottom of it caught on Gilbert’s legs as his own shifted forward to hit against Arthur’s shoulder. Startled, Gilbert jerked back a little - it was enough to send him toppling backwards. As he went, however, he hooked his staff around Arthur’s and held fast to his makeshift weapon. Arthur’s eyes widened as he was pulled down on top of Gilbert. The knight laughed even as Arthur shoved his staff into Gilbert’s neck, though without the force to cut off his airway. Huffing, Arthur shifted, his body pressed against Gilbert’s in a nice way that Gilbert tried to ignore. His knees were on either side of Gilbert’s hips and his face was a scant fingers’ breadth from Gilbert’s.
Rolling his eyes, Arthur pushed himself up until he was leaning over Gilbert. “I’m not sure who won that one,” he said as something fell from under his tunic. He blinked and reached up for it: he stopped when Gilbert made a startled noise.
For there, hanging just over his nose, was what Gilbert had been looking for all his life. A strange silver shape on a necklace, the bumps a familiar curve that Gilbert had run his fingers on multiple times. He raised a hand in disbelief and touched it with his fingertips. That made Arthur jerk away and clutch at his necklace; Gilbert noticed that he didn’t get up, though.
“What are you doing?” Arthur snapped, eyes narrowed. Gilbert knew that look well now. Arthur was irritated and liable to snap unless Gilbert’s explanation was a good one. And Gilbert had a good one.
Wordlessly, he reached under his own top, glad it was loose enough that he could get his fingers under them. Some of his uniforms were stiff at the moment and he may have had to remove the entire thing had he been wearing them. Instead, he was able to draw his necklace out and show it to Arthur.
He heard Arthur’s breath catch. The prince stared down at the necklace, looking between it and Gilbert’s face, his eyes searching for an explanation. But Gilbert was at a loss for words. So he held it up, offering the wavy side. Arthur understood and moved closer to him so they could press the ends together.
They fit perfectly.
It made a heart.
Even the delicate design on it was completed, looping lines perfectly aligned.
As one, they gasped, amazed at what the necklaces showed them. They were meant to be together. Gilbert wanted to let go of the necklace and pull Arthur close, hold him until someone had to pry them apart. He raised his gaze to Arthur’s: those pretty eyes were still wide, shimmering with happy tears.
“Klaus,” Arthur whispered and Gilbert’s heart sank. He had finally found his soulmate, the one he was going to share everything with and he thought his name was Klaus, of all things. How was he ever going to tell Arthur that their relationship - if they even had one - was based on a lie.
“I…”
“You’re my…” Arthur continued, a smile spreading onto his face.
Gilbert’s heart clenched at the sight. Arthur looked incredible like that. He felt a little dazed at the sight of it. Did it really matter that Arthur thought of him as Klaus, for the moment? His soulmate would understand, right? When he reclaimed his throne, he could tell Arthur and the prince would support him - wouldn’t he?
Having convinced himself that everything would be fine as long as he had Arthur, Gilbert dared to let go of his necklace, ignoring the way it thumped onto his chest, and reached up to Arthur’s face. He cupped that pretty visage, Arthur’s tiny freckles visible. Staring into Arthur’s eyes, Gilbert searched for something to say but couldn’t think beyond how he was so, so glad that it was Arthur. They’d grown so close with their private sparring lessons and the times they met within the palace grounds as Gilbert did his rounds. He liked Arthur. A lot. So much.
“Arthur,” he whispered, realising belatedly that he was about to cry from sheer happiness. After everything that had happened to him, Gilbert had finally been given something good.
Lips parting, the prince stared down at him. Perhaps he was feeling the same thing. Gilbert couldn’t tell but he was content to wait for him, smiling up at his prince. Arthur’s eyes darted across Gilbert’s face.
Laughing, Arthur leaned closer. “This is- I couldn’t imagine…”
“You’re… mine…?” Gilbert asked, his thoughts swirling as Arthur moved closer, their noses brushing.
“I’m yours,” said Arthur fiercely, perhaps thinking that his hesitance was because of his status as a refugee. Gilbert didn’t get the chance to correct him as Arthur moved so suddenly that he was kissing Gilbert before he knew it.
They slotted together perfectly and Gilbert made a sound between a moan and a happy chirping noise. Neither of them bothered to waste any time before they were using tongue, both twining together. It was almost desperate, the way they kissed, passion combining with love and relief. Gilbert didn’t know how long they continued but it was lasted till they had to break apart for air, panting into each other’s open mouths.
Arthur’s eyes were beautiful and Gilbert stared at them, blinking when Arthur suddenly spoke. “I think that means we both win, Klaus,” he said, with some amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Pushing aside the guilt, Gilbert only answered by drawing Arthur into another kiss.