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“My lord-”
The low burning candle cast a dim light, outlining a form slumped over the desk of the study.
Naoise sighed, carefully slipping in and closing the door. How typical it was of Seruel to fall asleep while working…
He had no other choice but to scoop him up in his arms and carry him back to his bedchambers, as he has done so many times before. He was starting to suspect this was more than a coincidence, as Scathacha had suggested much earlier, but he simply decided to shove the idea to the back of his mind. It didn't matter, did it?
Seruel weighed practically nothing, simply slumping into Naoise's arms as he carefully lifted him from the plush chair, adjusting the sleeping man the best he could without jostling him too much.
The halls were dark and quiet, which was helpful for his endeavor of carrying Seruel to his rooms. Tragically he was still wearing his armor, and as much as Naoise would have loved to undress him (for his comfort, obviously) it would be quite improper of him to do so.
Carefully pulling down the covers, Naoise set Seruel onto the bed, adjusting him slightly before pulling the covers over him.
Seruel mumbled something in his sleep that Naoise wasn't quite able to catch, but that didn't matter much, in his opinion.
His boots tapped on the floors as he headed to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible.
“Sleep well, Lord Seruel.”
*****
“Please do be more conscious of your health my lord.”
Seruel looked at him curiously. “What could you mean?”
“You keep falling asleep at your desk, sir. I will always carry you to bed in necessary- but sleeping in your armor cannot be good for you.”
“Would you not remove it for me?”
Naoise almost choked on his tea. “I-I wouldn't dare consider such a thing my lord!”
“Why is that?”
“It would be improper of me to undress a prince under any circumstances!”
Seruel's expression shifted, almost becoming a pout. “We've been together for so long, I fail to see how it would be an issue. Besides- I am no longer a prince.”
“Still! It would be quite invasive of me to do so!”
“What would you do if I gave you permission?”
A fierce blush flooded Naoise's face, his cup shaking in a now very unsteady grip. “I-well, I wouldn't violate you in such a-”
Leaning forward, Seruel dipped into a tone Naoise had hardly heard before- a low purr that he almost felt in his very bones. “What if I wanted you to do such a thing?”
Naoise couldn't form words if he tried. His mouth struggled to open and move around words, lips flapping aimlessly. “I-I would have no choice then-”
“Would you want to do it?”
Again, he was at a loss. “Uh- perhaps?”
“It's your choice.”
“...I guess it is…”
“We shall see what happens tonight then.”
“...I would prefer it if you didn't fall asleep at your desk in the first place, my lord.”
“Please, just call me Seruel.” He huffed. Naoise was sure he had almost avoided that comment for the day. “And perhaps I will, perhaps I won't. We will just have to see now, won't we?”
“...I guess so.”
*****
Naoise had to hold back a tired sigh as he slowly opened the door to the study.
Seruel was collapsed over his desk, chest slowly rising and falling.
With as much tenderness and care as every other night, Naoise picked the prince up, carefully walking down the halls to his room.
Laying him down and pushing some hair from his face, Naoise was suddenly seized with an odd feeling- something he had long failed to recognize. Was he perhaps afraid? To exercise Seruel's trust in him?
It wasn't a possibility he could overlook, but another emotion gripped his heart as he stood there awkwardly, a fish out of water.
Seruel was always remarkably beautiful, but now, as he lay sleeping before him, Naoise had the time to fully appreciate his elegance.
Swallowing, his hand trembled as it moved to the buckles of Seruel's chest plate. It was the least he could do- sleeping in chainmail and leather wasn't the worst, it was the plates that worried him the most.
Peeling the armor away, he was suddenly extremely aware of the nature of Seruel's dress. There was no easy way out here, was there?
He seemed to have tragically forgotten that the vast majority of Seruel's armor was plate armor.
Attempting to calm his racing heart, he snapped the clasps on the cuisse that covered his thighs. The metal was carefully placed on the floor- until he could move it to its proper place.
Carefully he unbuckled Seruel's boots, quickly setting them down before removing the greaves that were clasped to his calves.
Then went pauldrons and rerebraces and quickly followed by vambraces.
His face was red as he quietly shuffled all the armor over to their proper spots by Seruel's dresser. He was lucky none of the pieces were prone to knocking against one another- that sort of racket would wake the whole castle, and a cranky Scathacha was something he was not fit to deal with at the current moment.
With a satisfied sigh, he smiled to himself as he tucked Seruel in. That was nowhere near as painful as he thought it would be.
Seruel mumbled into his pillow, as he did just about every night.
“Hm? I'm sorry if I woke you…” Naoise whispered, about to leave the room.
“Hmmm… love you…”
“Uh- pardon me?”
Soft snored came from the bed. He must have just been hearing things…
“Love you… Naoise…”
He was most certainly hearing things now. Perhaps he was exhausted himself- although he certainly didn't feel tired.
He was about to close the door behind him when he paused.
“I love you too. Seruel.”
*****
“So you took me up on my offer.”
Naoise looked up from his mending. “Did you sleep better?”
“I did indeed.” Seruel said, sitting down next to him.
“That's good to hear.”
“I would vastly appreciate it if you would continue to do that.”
“I will be sure to comply my lord.”
“ Seruel.”
“My lord Seruel.”
“Say, do I talk in my sleep? I am greatly curious.”
The needle fumbled in his hands. “Uh- on occasion.”
“...Naoise are you alright? It seems as though you have a fever of some kind-”
“I assure you, I am in perfect health. And your occasional mumbling is hardly an issue.”
“What do I say while so lost in slumber?”
Naoise was extremely lost, nothing coming to his mind or mouth. “Uh, well, I don't think that's relevant-”
“I want to know if what I say connects to my dreams.”
He was most certainly overheating. His hands were shaking, and he was moments away from stabbing himself in the hand with his sewing needle. “Uh- well- you tend to…”
“Tend to do what?”
“Profess your affections…”
“Ah, so it does align…”
Naoise sputtered. “Uh- pardon?!”
Seruel leaned forward, startling him as he turned to look. “Thank you for all your help Naoise.”
“Eh?! Excuse me?!”
The prince chuckled before standing, calmly heading out of the room, leaving the poor knight stuttering and blushing.
Setting down his sewing, he brushed his hair away from his face, unsure of how he should react.
“You're quite troublesome sometimes… Seruel…”