Archive of Our Own

Gavin stood, staring out at the enormous empty hallway adorned to crystal perfection of the royal crown. It was deathly quiet, because no one dared to evoke the wrath of the queen or one of her princes at a disturbance. He had to follow their every order flawlessly, oppose no resistance inside his thoughts at all, and be completely malleable for their will to overtake his. He was only a guard, a pawn to the crown, a puppet to jerk sideways as the Queen saw fit. He had been trained not to let any free will tackle his thoughts, he grew his expertise in maintaining stoicism and shutting his thoughts off. Their glamour was painful to see, too beautiful to be real and it was agony to bear the sight of it.

He knew it was all fake, but that didn’t make it seem any less real. When they controlled his body and thoughts, it didn’t feel any different then being a rag doll. His life-force, the energy that came from his being, was entirely their’s to command. His bioelectricity- his mind, body and spirit. All their’s to control. That was the Lunar gift. That was the power of the crown and everybody, no matter the person, was to fall submissive to it. And he would die by the same blindingly pretty smiles and painfully pretty eyes. Whether it was by his choice, or not, it would happen.

Sometimes, especially times like now, where he waited on the prince; he liked to dream. He dreamed of being on Earth, the big blue planet so full of resources and life. Organic life. They didn’t have to live in domes made of fake-metals or recycled alloys from the early colonization of the little white moon. They had real trees with different leaves and flowers, and rain and weather. They had the luxury of rainforests, deserts, grasslands, frozen tundras, and so many more different environments. He liked to think he was down there, toes buried inside the soil as he watched the sunset every night and not only once in a certain timeframe. He dreamt of being normal and not controlled, of having the right to express his opinions and thoughts, of being himself. Of a different life.

But Gavin was only a guard- a royal guard. The Prince’s personal guard, or rather, one of them. And that was much better then living half starved in the poorer sectors of the planet where Regolith poisoning claimed more people then he could count. Once the grimy, disgusting dust entered your lungs and trailed along your windpipe, there wasn’t much time left for you. And not to mention the resources or money available to restore you back to health.

He had been lucky, he supposed, or as damned as damned can be.

Being a royal guard meant he was to be mentally manipulated daily, if not every other day. The pressure was unreal and the slightest mistake, misplaced step, transparent thought, or any expression at all could be certain death. The training was not easy either, by any of the means. But Gavin had fought hard to be where he is.

It’s not every day one is trusted with a prince’s life and he intends to do his queen proud.

Queen Amanda, of Luna, was their Royal Majesty and her patience for mess ups was about as long as one’s ability to exist outside of the domes that filtered in clean air. That made oxygen for the city to breath. Outside was nothing but space, endless, cold, space. She was a strict and stern ruler, and her glamour made her no less beautiful then the most divine thought a person could think. She was fair in every sense of the word, or she made you believe so, anyway. She always got what she wanted, always achieved her goals since her coronation.

Beneath her, was her two princes. Two little boys that grew into equally as fair, and terrifying, young men. Twins, siblings, and exceptionally good at their gift. Neither used their glamour much, because they didn’t have to. Already they were so breathtaking to see, to hear, to be around. One by the name of Connor; his presence made you feel safe, slightly on edge, but secure. As if nothing in the entire galaxy could befall upon you. He made you smile and everyone warmed quickly to him- he was next in line to take the throne should anything happen to Amanda. His younger, albeit taller, brother was dubbed Nines. He was less warm and more cold, carrying a grace that made any man swoon by him just walking past. His intelligence surpassed Connor’s, a wonderfully brilliant thing, and his looks were just piercing. Cut through your soul until you got lost in the way that he just simply existed. Breathed. He’d never be King of Luna- because Connor would have a child to take his place afterwards, and Nines would only ever be prince.

Gavin got to guard him. Guard Nines.

He wasn’t fucking fun, either. There was rumors, not that anyone would ever admit to spreading or believing, that could mean death- that Connor got into mischief now and then. Something nefarious or maybe even cruel, just something morally incorrect with a bout of reason behind it. A sense of duty. Or something incredibly nice for the captured animals inside the Lunar zoo. All white creatures, all albinos, no color ever showing except endless, unyielding, white.

Nines wasn’t like that.

He was pretty fucking boring, if you asked Gavin. Never did anything obscene or suspicious, never dared to venture outside of the palace walls, never even tried to loose Gavin in all the time he’s worked as a personal guard. He was a goody little two-shoes, never went against the queen’s word even a smidgen. And he never talked, at least not to Gavin. And that was normal.

Gavin was not suppose to be relatively present, if one could say. He’s silent the entire time he serves his shift, he’s observant and watchful and always, always ready. Always within reach of his prince, but never too close. He is looked over by many, by the person he watches over, and he’s positive his very existence is often forgotten because of how still he stands. He is not allowed to move an inch, and he never does. It’s his job.

Which is why he still stands there now. Starring down an empty, void hallway that seems to end only in his mind. He stands outside the Prince’s room and listens in. A seamstress has entered some time ago to make a new fucking expensive outfit for him to wear to some court session and he just waits for someone to try and make an assassination attempt. He knows no one is stupid enough to try that but- he cannot afford to take chances.

So there he stands, waiting for nothing at all, and listening and watching, until the seamstress comes out and walks right past him without batting an eye. He cannot help but feel sympathy for her because he knows the prince is demanding and picky. A total prissy bitch.

Gavin still stands there, beside the doorway. The hours tick by slowly, always so fucking slow, and drag on and on. Never ending.

Finally, after countless hours, Nines steps out. Gavin does not dare to look at him, because he is not suppose to and he is afraid of what he might see, but when the prince glides right past him he has no choice. He sees that Nines is wearing a flowing type of silk that drapes down in the rear, a rich black color that is both see through and entirely blocking from prying eyes. Gavin doesn’t question it, he has long stopped asking anything about anything. The thing was sleeveless and went up high on his neck, then came the equally as extravagant looking coat. It hung off his shoulders, a bit provocative in it’s leisurely hang, and surpassed the tail of the blouse. It trailed behind him, making him appear unmatched to any beauty. He looked so divine he could have been floating and not walking. His hair was naturally wavy, only a strand falling onto his face, and the random little moles along his skin was absolutely delightful.

Gavin knew he was handsome, the most handsome in all of Luna. The prettiest prince, the most holy of beauty, the brightest light, the fairest of fair, and the noblest and graceful of all that ever was. Every time he saw the prince, he grew breathless, even if he saw him only once a day or more. He could never tire of the sight, could never get used to the immaculate beauty.

The creamy black pants were also tailored to perfection, as was expected, and he made them look like nothing Gavin’s ever seen. And he moves, balanced and posed, down the hall.

Gavin falls in a few steps behind him, close enough to cover in case of an attack, but with the proper distance. His steps are quiet, more silent then the prince’s in front of him who puts mice to shame with his level of stealth. It’s one of the only things Gavin can do better then the royal pissbabies. Is this, his job. He takes pride in whatever he can, and this is his most prestigious thing.

He notices right away that the prince is lost in thought, so much so that he walks right into the crossroads of another hallway, where a bustling servant too overloaded with towels misses him and they bump into each other. He is quick to grab them by the elbow, spin them around, and send a murderous glare their way. It’s just his job.

“Watch yourself! His highness is in no mood to deal with your ignorance!” A practiced line, really, one he’s heard pour from Nines’s own mouth before. He started using it ages ago and Nines never objected.

“I-I’m sorry!” They trembled, overcome by a rush of fear. Gavin would feel pity for them, but he couldn’t afford it. He hardened himself into a stone, incase Nines willed him into action, he’d make it easier then blinking. “Fo-Forgive me, your grace! I-I wasn’t thinking, please, spare me! I’ll-I’ll be more mindful! I swear it!”

Gavin kept himself still, as frozen as a photo, waiting for Nines's command. He wondered what type of mood he was in, groveling never truly worked. One needed to hope and pray Nines was in a good mood, a merciful mood, else they lose their life- or limbs.

“Reflect on this,” The prince’s voice came out as smooth as the silk he wore. Gavin felt the sound inch down his spine and coat his insides in molten gold, rose petals poured out of his mouth and he’s never quite heard a music as peaceful. “And never speak of this moment, you may go.”

Gavin released them and they were smart to drop onto a bow, pressing their forehead onto the exquisite palace flooring and remain there. Gavin let Nines get a few steps lead before trailing along. He was glad he didn’t have to kill anyone just yet, no mess to clean up, no life to mourn over or think about. He hoped the good mood would last, forever maybe.

They walked, down staircases and through winding halls, past grand doors and entered the domain of the royal gardens. Truly a stunning thing, Gavin loved the gardens the most. Beautiful flowers and trees, bushes and plants, linking up pillars and shading from the artificial sun. It was an escape, it had the beauty of the palace but held the peacefulness of Earth, a serene heaven compared to the cruelty of the moon. It didn’t belong, but he wished it to stay regardless.

“What did you think of them?”

“Your Highness?”

“The servant, what did you think of the servant.” He repeats and Gavin hears inside the sweet voice that he will not be saying it again.

Gavin replies in a robotic manner, “I think his highness is forgiving to a beggar’s insolence.”

“You tell me what I wish to hear, Sir Reed,” He’s startled that the prince knows his name. “But not what I have asked of you.”

Gavin takes in a breath and holds it, his gaze falls onto Nines as his back is staring Gavin in the face. He’s draped on the railing, stroking the stem of a flower as he gazes at it- calculating and cold. Gavin wonders if this is the day he dies.

“My sincerest apologies, Prince, I do not mean to waste your time.” He begins and swallows gravely. He wonders how he will go and if it will be quick or painful. “I think they should have been…more…mindful of your presence.”

“Is that so?” Nines chimes, entirely innocent in it’s drawl as his shoulders turn and his lush lashes bat at his guard. Enticing. Gavin does not act upon it but stare dead ahead as he’s suppose to, he is good at his job. He tells this to himself over and over inside his head. He is the best at what he does.

“Yes, your highness.”

Nines fully turns around then, and Gavin prepares himself to be murdered right there. Possibly his body will turn against him and his hand will raise the blade tucked into it’s sheath into his side, or maybe the gun at his arm will leave a nice hole somewhere in him. Maybe Nines wants a show and he’ll make Gavin jump from the highest tower in the palace and make a splat on the ground, for all to see. Those are the nicer ideas he can come up with, he prays Nines won’t turn him into an experiment or quite possibly take his limbs off so he has to crawl like a zombie to any place.

As Gavin stands there and waits, prays, and wishes- Nines steps towards him. His footsteps are light and even, Gavin can tell from how they sound, and he’s precise in his walk. Stunning and so sure. He stops in front of Gavin, stares down at him and his hand raises. Gavin expects a smack or a punch, something to come into harsh contact with him. But nothing does, or rather, not in the way he thinks.

Nines’s hand brushes the side of his jaw, fingers curled and grazing, featherlight as they skim against him. He holds back a shudder, stares ahead and not at the prince who can very well steal his breath. He’s a guard. He’s just a guard and he excels at his job.

“You are not used to having a mind of your own, are you?” It’s not a real question, Gavin knows, so he doesn’t answer. He lets Nines say and do as he pleases and he does not react to it. “How quaint, but fitting. Are you not devoted to the crown?”

This one he answers, because he is prompted to. “I give my life to the throne.”

“Do you give your life to me and my safety, Sir Reed?”

Gavin nods, a stiff, short movement. The hand at his jaw now cups his face, tenderly swiping along his cheekbone. He has no fucking clue what this prince is up too and he doesn’t want to find out. “Till my last breath, my prince.”

“Very well said.” And then Nines backs off, removing his warm hands and sizing his guard up with one dismissive sweep of the eyes. “Wait for me at the gate, I will not be long. See to it that I am not disturbed.”

“Yes, your highness, right away.” He’s glad to leave the prince alone, to get away to breathe.

His heart stammers and he feels winded, like Nines has just punch the air right out of his lungs. He wonders what Nines had wanted, if Gavin had given it to the prince, but he’s elated that Nines saw it suitable to touch him. He’s above the clouds and he doesn’t know why.

Gavin is a guard, and he’s good at his job.

______________________________________

He breathes in a huge breath as he takes his next shift. Sleep had come easy that night because he hadn’t slept the week prior, and his body desperately needed the rest. But as his boots clicked down the hall he couldn’t help but feel a sense of tired dread settle into his bones the closer he got to the same pair of doors that he stood in front of for hours on end.

The exchange of guard to guard, ending shift to the beginning of a new one, was fluent and practiced. Synchronized and without any fault in the lines, a masterpiece of clockwork that came as second nature. It wasn’t anything special, but to the ones that now had the freedom to relax and go about the rest of their day as they chose, it was like breathing fresh, Earthen air for the first time. Seeing the sun rise and crest the peaks of the craters that boar into the moon. It was such a feeling, Gavin couldn’t just express it.

Only it was the opposite for him, since he was taking up his turn of torment. Of long boring hours full of perfection and preprocessed fear to the crown. He hoped it would go smoothly.

The first hour was as dry as they usually were, only some servants bustling around to make accommodations to the Queen’s desires or possibly Connor’s. He didn’t know and to be frank- he didn’t really care. He kept his eyes trained forward and didn’t say a word. It wasn’t even the ass crack of dawn yet, what did he expect? A revolt? Fat fucking chance.

The second hour bled much the same.

As did the third.

And the fourth.

Half way into that one, though, and the seamstress from yesterday was returning. Early ass bitch. Some clothes draped across her arm, Gavin eyed her though, and had half a mind to deny her access and for her to state her business- only he was too tired to really do that. So when she promptly stopped and looked at him- the first time someone has done so on duty- he gave a curt nod. She raised a brow but didn’t comment, and knocked on the door anyway.

“Your Highness, I would like to see how the outfit fits, if it is an agreeable time for you.” Gavin wondered what kind of fucked up mood Nines would be in today- or if he’d be all weird, like he was the day before.

“Enter.” Ah, ominous, expression-less bitch, as per usual. He shouldn’t be surprised really.

And that was that, for the next hour and a half- or was it more like forty-five minutes? Didn’t matter, it was all boring and lame, that was the fucking point he was trying to make. The seamstress exited, with her fucking fabrics and shit, whatever else and the clothes. He wondered if Nines rejected them, or had been a demanding and picky bitch. They seemed fine to Gavin, but then again what did he fucking know? He was Gavin, Gavin the guard.

That made him think- how had Nines even remotely have an idea of his name? The prince shouldn’t care, he was positive Amanda didn’t know his name. He would be surprised if Connor knew it, sure it made sense a bit if Nines knew it since Gavin was his personal guard and all but….still. Why would a prince know his name?

And then in rolled the breakfast bunch with their fancy ass trays and bowls and all that other shit. The most Gavin got was eggs and toast, if he were lucky. Usually just the toast or whatever he snuck from the kitchen. Shit was tasty, yeah, but he didn’t get no fucking three platter, encore, type of feast in the morning. He was almost jealous. And hungry. Looking at that food made his stomach upset and envious.

This time, though, he stopped them. If only for something to do, and to smell how fucking delicious everything was. Plus, poison warning. If the servant seemed nervous or did anything suspicious he would find it out.

“Just delivering breakfast, Sir.” And Gavin paused, made them wait, if they squirmed then he’d have caught himself an assassination attempt. A traitor, now that would spice things up. When they batted their lashes at him, he gave his permission for them to continue.

It didn’t take long for them to come back out, empty handed, apparently Nines was in an anti-social sort of mood. The morning servants usually helped with dressing and the whole waiting-on-hands-and-feet type of things. It was fucking ridiculous if you asked him, no one ever really does, but he has his opinions anyway.

Then he heard something muffled from inside the room, he didn’t entirely ignore it but he made sure to listen close. He was positive something sounded like it was calling for him but it couldn’t be. Time ticked by slow and he heard it again, only it was much clearer now. It was Nines.

Nines was calling for him from inside.

Gavin, when met with this exact situation, had to react in a very specific way. And that included the brash kind.

The gun in his holster was pointed as he burst through the door, his eyes flickering to look for some threat but he found nothing. The room was entirely fucking empty, in fact. The only soul inside was Nines and he was sat on the edge of his bed staring at Gavin.

“Your Highness,” He greeted but quickly got to his point. “What seems to be the problem? Has something happened?”

“I want you to eat this.” And Gavin had to blink because what the fuck kind of fucking bullshit was this?

“Excuse me?” He uttered, letting his gun be sheathed inside his holster as he withdrew to a more normal stance and not one ready for a bloody battle.

Nines only fucking hummed. Did he think this was a damn game? And gestures to the fruits perfectly sliced for him to eat, specifically he points to the cup of grapes, and Gavin has to hold back a confused stare. “Eat these.”

He wanders over, compelled to toss around some insults but refrains because Nines is the fucking prince and that's the very last fucking thing he wants to do. He grabs the cup, it’s so shiny and white, so fragile in his hand that he’s a little nervous he’s gonna break it. Then, after holding in a sigh, he ate the damned fruit.

And it was fine. Completely fucking fine.

Gavin stills for a moment just to be sure, and he’s pretty certain the food hasn’t been poisoned. There’s really nothing wrong with it, Nines was probably just being a picky bitch again. He sets the small porcelain cup down as carefully as he could before turning back to the prince. The bitch looks as expressive as the wall behind him, but he holds his thoughts to himself.

“They’re safe.” He rasps and stands there, half waiting to be dismissed and half waiting because he isn’t sure if there’s something else Nines wants from him.

But Nines just stares at him with an eyebrow raised like he knew that already. He probably did- honestly, what was the point to all of this? Gavin was getting annoyed, not that it showed, and he just wanted his shift to be over as quick as it possibly could. Why was the prince trying to get him executed?

He was about to raise his salute, ready to dismiss himself. “If that is all, your highness, I- “

“Check the window.”

Gavin is quiet for only a moment, hand resting and curling around the holster of his weapon and ready to draw. His eyes flickered to the grand window panes, looking for movement of any kind and seeing nothing. Not an inch stirred beyond the palace walls, what the fuck was the point of all of this.

“Has his highness seen someone lurking?” He drawled out the words carefully, trying to stop the irritation from entering his voice. Nines was making that hard, however, with every passing second.

“Sir Reed,” And the fucker bats his lashes at him. Looking coy and innocent if not a bit pouty. Irresistible. Gavin cursed his heart for beating quicker and for the sudden heat traveling inside him. “I had an awful dream. Make my worries cease and check my balcony, please. You can never be too safe.”

Gavin took in a breath, held it in, and let it out through his nose after a beat. “Of course, my prince.”

He moved then and tried to ignore the eyes burning into the back of his head as he unlatched the windows and stepped out. He could see all of the city from here, the reflective lake, and the aristocrats plus noblemen of the status flow. It was a pretty sight indeed, Gavin felt out of place in such a rich looking scene. He scanned the area and found no one, not a sign or trace of anyone ever tampering here. How they’d get up high in the first place would be a miracle to even Gavin. The prince was fucking batshit.

And apparently, right behind him. Gavin almost jumped out of his skin when he turned and Nines was quite literally in his personal space. Today was just getting too weird. “There is nothing out here.”

“On the contrary, there was nothing here, but now there is something.” And he does that fucking thing with his hand again.

Where it’s skimming along, just barely, right under Gavin’s jaw. Almost a touch, but not quite. And he sounds almost suggestive- fucking suggestive. As if Gavin’s got the time to have an affair with the royal ass crown. Nines might alway get what he wants, but he’s got another thing to think of if he even believes that Gavin’ll throw it all away at a chance to be with him. With the prince. He’s not that kind of man. He just isn’t anywhere close.

“I must return to my post.” Gavin babbles, because it’s downright unnatural for Nines to look so fucking beautiful up close. He can’t stand to look so deeply into his eyes or he fears getting lost forever. He needs a drink or something. “I bid you a fair day, your highness.”

Gavin brings his fist to his chest, bows once and deep before letting himself out the door. Nines only watches, the creep, as he goes and Gavin just guesses that he goes back to finishing his meal. The lucky bastard. He’d just about kill for breakfast in bed right now, a fucking nap sounded orgasmic. He planned on taking one the second he got to his room. His cot was practically calling his name.

______________________________________

“I don’t know how you fuckin’ do it, T.” He groans and lets the hair unfurl for the millionth time, the black spilling over her shoulders while the bitch fucking beamed. Smug as fucking can be with his failure.

“It’s not that hard, you big baby!” Tina all but sang, tutting a finger at him while she grinned and started walking. They were both headed to their room to retire for the evening, walking down the far less fancier hallway that led to the guard’s quarters.

It wasn’t as extravagant, pristine, or dutifully whitened like the rest of the palace but it was far better then the poor mining sectors of the moon. Where they gathered most of their resources and were worked to death, where food was rationed, and the regolith claimed more and more victims. Those mines were full of it, and as deadly as it was, it was Luna’s primary resource. The only thing that the moon had originally produced that hadn’t been transported and planted from Earth all those years ago. The moon had been a colony beforehand, before the revolt, before the cry for independence. Before they developed the power; the glamour, the manipulation, the gift.

“Maybe to you, asshat.” Gavin dares to snort because he is not on duty, Tina is not royalty, and he fears no consequence. Companionship is a rare thing for him, and he feels as if he can truly trust Tina.

“Watch.” And she whips all fucking twelve miles of her hair up into the perfect bun. No loose strands, there’s no flaws anywhere to be seen and Gavin slumps. She doesn’t even pause in her steps. Show off.

“Dead to me, Chen, dead.” And he claps a hand all too hard over her shoulder, lightly shaking her while they both cackle and snicker. He always looks forward to this and he’s positive she does too, it’s the best end to there day.

“Watch yourself, I’ll have you on the floor in a blink.” Tina side eyes him, gaze lingering on his hand resting on her shoulder pads. Challenging.

Gavin opens his mouth to retort but he is interrupted. Fowler, the captain of the guards, is fuming as he storms down the hallway. Both him and Tina drop their smiles and stand at attention while he crosses the stretch down the hall, screeching and rousing every available personal- everyone is up and standing, waiting for instructions. Briefly, the sounds of scuffles and fighting are heard in other places. He shares a look with Tina before Fowler’s enraged yelling overtakes his focus.

“Someone is attempting a revolt- what’re you idiots waiting for! Capture the enemy for trial, do not kill them unless absolutely necessary! Go load on the docks, all of you, and do not fail. Her Majesty expects success!”

He’s tired, famished, but his fist collides with his chest in a salute. Beside him his friend does the same, all around them, and then they’re off. Marching towards the frontline of a futile battle, preparing to kill innocences who stupidly tried to change the system of their society. They should know better, he thinks to himself as he falls in line with his fellow guards. Tina sighs behind him, he feels the same.

He couldn’t believe someone was so fucking dumb. Not only were they throwing their life away but wasting everyone’s time. Gavin certainly didn’t have much to spare considering the crown controlled all of his movements, all of his free time, could call him in whenever. Like now, he thought bitterly. He wanted to sit down in his bed and take a nap, curled up next to Tina- even if she sometimes snored and sounded like a fucking beast. It was home. It was comfortable.

And he had to miss it to fucking fight some dickwad. Fantastic.

A thaumaturge oversaw them as they went- basically a general and the queen’s lapdog. They were the leaders of the army, in charge of their own squabble of guards but just lazy fucking bastards in cloaks. They didn’t fight, no that was a guard’s job, well not unless they absolutely fucking had to. They mostly just made sure no one fucked up too bad. This one was dressed in black, which meant they were low on the rank scale. The highest wore white- highly favored by the Queen. Second to them was red and lastly the black.

They had a nasty attitude. Gavin was about to have a long fucking night.

______________________________________

He was called for duty too early in the morning, and randomly. Gavin should’ve gotten a longer resting period after last night’s incident but apparently, the prince thought fucking better of that. After all, he was the one to request Gavin even though he had the rest of the entourage.

Personal entourage, with fully functioning schedules, and he chooses to ignore that. Chooses to pick on Gavin when he only ever does his damn job. What had he done to deserve such karma?

“You shouldn’t be going out there.” Tina sleepily informs him as if he was in a rush to stand around all day and stare at a wall. “Not with your shoulder fucked up like that.”

“You wanna tell ‘em that?” Gavin griped and winced as the padding put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on the bandaged gash. Crushing the revolt was easy but there was always an accident.

Guards were like puppets, their minds and bioelectricity was one of the easiest things to take over and conduct like one would a puppet. That was just common knowledge. Only the fear and terror of the crown kept people in check; only thaumaturges and the royal asswipes themselves could legally control people like Gavin. The public execution, the torment, the mental trauma inflicted was enough to prevent the people from doing so. Or it was meant to. Someone apparently had the balls to manipulate one guard standing far too close to him and make them swing. It had gone right through his padding.

The rest was just bullshit. Happened so quick he barely blinked before the riot was quelled.

“Just don’t overdo it. This shit’ll open easy.” The rest of his gear was slowly put on, with light help from the other. He had to bat her hands off of him when she tried to help- just his stubborn pride. He was not crippled and could take care of himself.

“Oh no, I’d thought I’d scale the side of the tower before bed.” She smacked him on his side, right. He deserved it for the sarcasm. “Okay! Okay! I’ll watch out.”

“You better!” And without another peep, he was off to report for his shift.

Each step clambered on painful and he had to fight to conceal his grimace. The knife had caught him good and that shit fucking stung. The armor and padding didn’t help it but he’d be a fool to try and carry on without all of his assigned uniform. So he walked with his head high and pretended to not feel anything, straightened his back and squared his shoulders as he was trained to do and stood at his post. Even if it throbbed like a fucking fire.

Gavin focused hard on being statue still, frozen as if in time, beside the door that housed nothing but riches. It was too early for officials to be milling around, for servants to be scrambling here and there, for anyone with a fucking brain to be up. But he was there for barely an hour when that door clicked open and Nines walked out.

The sleeveless, high collared, high to low silk shirt was a fair white tonight. A pleasant ombre on the shawl thrown over his shoulders that dipped onto the floor and flowed like a waterfall wherever he dared to walk. It was beautiful and so very lovely, made the prince seem so unrealistically gorgeous that he wasn’t sure if he was tired anymore. More in a trance by a sheer dashing look and twinkling blue stars that walked into his line of sight. Gavin tried to get over his beauty.

“I need you inside.” Velvety voice murmured, quiet and low in it’s musings as it beckoned with the song of a siren for Gavin to listen. And that he did. Following Nines inside his grand room and pausing once he took a single step into the threshold.

This, still, was like walking on thin ice. And Gavin really had no business here, really didn’t want to be publicly executed by his own controlled hands because of some booty call made by some horny royal dickhead. A pretty dickhead, but a complete priss at that.

“Are you in danger, my prince?” He’s careful to have respect inside his tone, masking the stabbing in his shoulder.

“What, exactly, transpired last night?” Nines cocks his head, elegant hair swishing as it lay scattered across his forehead. It’s too precious a sight for Gavin to single handedly handle, he wills his gaze somewhere besides the prince’s looks, to the door. The window, the carpet, anything else besides shimmering blue eyes.

“Captain Fowler is more suited to answer this question, your highness.”

“Are you telling me who to question?” It’s airy, playful, and something light filters into Nines’s gaze. His eyes turn a softer shade, as if he could be a trusting candidate to something most secret. Gavin isn’t sure if that’s the glamour or the real deal.

He steels himself against it. He is only a guard. Just a guard. “Never, my prince.”

Nines is quiet, though his sight is calculating and indifferent, scrutinizing every inch of Gavin. He stands perfectly still, ready to be used if Nines saw it fit or to take a form of insult. Amanda usually dished those out, because everything had to be perfect. Right. And nothing less.

“Tell me, Sir Reed.” There’s such an edge to it, his voice, the definition of suave. Of grace, of seduction, or persuasion. Gavin could never say no to it, not in a billion million years, not if his life depended on it. His face grew hot by that voice alone, his heart fluttering and something dropped into his stomach. “What happened on the night of the riot?”

He sits his pretty ass self on the bed, legs expertly crossed like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he knows Gavin’s very thoughts that muddle and slosh around inside his own head. He looks up, past thick lashes, a smirk curling onto his already perfect complexion. He looks stunning and Gavin wants to kiss the very ground he walks on, he doesn’t feel manipulated whatsoever, and that's confusing in itself. Nines waits, baited and like a predator, staring at Gavin like a prize. His breathing turns shallow before he can catch it and he rights it with a cough.

His shoulder protests, the traitor, and now he hides the stabbing pain with the notion of him righting his holster to the gun slung around his arm.

“Fowler ordered us to move out, so me and a few other guards did. It wasn’t much, just a little dispute inside RM-9.”

The prince puts a manicured hand to his face, just shy of his lips. Gavin has never noticed them before; ripe, plump, entirely sinful in it’s cupid’s shape. Tender looking and so very soft. His mouth is watering and he has to remind himself that he is in no position to be thinking such thoughts. “Regolith Mining Sector Nine, hm?”

“Yes, your highness, and it was silenced easily enough. We suffered no casualties on our side and the perpetrators were detained. I believe their trial is to be conducted today.”

“Yes, it will be.” Gavin finds that Nines looks pleased, and that in itself, is enough to ease his worries. His heart quells it’s earlier fit and he finds that the pressure dissipates- though he had barely known it had been there. This wasn’t a manipulation, this was just the prince’s raw charms. He was a bit nervous because it was so unlike anything he’s experienced before. “And what about you? What did you do during the uprising?”

“I’m sorry?”

Nines tsked, rolling his eyes slowly. Not in annoyance but the look was quite fond. Too fond. And the hands folded, nestled onto his lap left it to recline his body against the sheets. Now resting on his elbows, it was easy to see the dip in his collarbone, the sharp edge to his jaw. Gavin was sweating with apprehension and temptation, turning hot and red from the ears with embarrassment that rested just below his demeanor. On the outside, he was the same stock photo. On the inside he was screaming.

“I want to know what you did and what befell you on the field, perhaps I am not clear? Would it be beneficial if I got-,” Bastard. Total bastard. Gavin knew the opening to a flirtatious spill when he saw one and this was definitely fucking one. Nines leaned forwards, beckoning, raising a perfectly sculpted brow. His voice like silk as he called so sinful. “-closer?”

He decides not to question this one. Dangerous. Thin fucking ice, Reed.

“I did as was ordered, the thaumaturge kept us all in check. Because of the crown’s foresight nothing bad happened.”

Nines hums, a little frown set onto his lips. His gaze flickers up and down on Gavin again, and he really starts to sweat. He wasn’t sure what the bastard was thinking but he just knew it would probably end with Gavin regretting using his hands.

“Is that all?” Nines says it like he knows something.

Gavin quietly cowers under it. Up front he doesn’t change his stance nor his expression, though his readies himself just incase. “A citizen stepped outside their role and tried to glamour a fellow guard into submission.”

Nines looked interested then, a breathless smile crossing his features as Gavin’s lungs struggled to find out. He was so very helpless against such a beautiful smile. “Oh?”

“He hit only one guard and was swiftly dealt with afterwards.”

“And who did this fellow injure?”

“Me, your highness.”

The prince’s eyes lit up, as if they found something truly amazing to marvel at before they dimmed and turned sorrowful. Gavin wasn’t sure if Nines could just switch like that or if it was the glamour in which he used. But either way, he was too damn pretty to look at without Gavin’s heart just about melting inside his ribs.

“Where?”

“My shoulder, it’s not that bad,”

“Let me see it.”

“Your highness, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to-“

“Nonsense, I won’t hear it.” Gavin gulped, frozen to his spot.

“But- “

“Gavin,” Oh it was illegally sinful the way Nines purred out his name. Like something holy and royal, smooth and rare. Extraordinary. “Show me.”

He had about a minute of defiance before it crumpled in on itself. When Nines gestured with his hands and acted all coy, proper and expectant. The shawl dropped and pooled around his elbows, baring the beauty that was his arms. His shoulders and sides where the top sunk low on his torso. It had to be deliberate. It had to be planned. And it worked in ruining Gavin’s resolve.

He was fumbling with the clasps to his uniform, masking his whimpers with a bite to his own lips, hushed his pain with determination to be silent. To be perfect. He didn’t want to be anything less, and as he slipped his arm and the wound out of the confinements of his clothes and armor, he found that Nines had his eyes glued to him. Now Gavin wasn’t shy by any means but the intense look he saw reflecting inside blue gemstones made him stare resolutely on the window and not at the prince with the poise posture and glowing skin.

Nines got up and crossed the room, Gavin had to will himself not to shrink away. He kept his steps light and soft, as always, and when he stopped in front of the guard- he seemed to consider something for once in their entire night. His hands reached up and hovered but never touched him, not yet. Nines seemed distracted by an idea, a thought, and Gavin wished he knew what it was.

“On Earth,” He began. Regal and just, but also there was care. Close to motherly sounding- warm in it’s wake. And true. “There is something humans do to diminish pain and heal their battle wounds. I would like to test it with you. May I?”

“You may do whatever you’d like.” The response was automatic, but instead of the robotic irony to it, it’s sound was much smoother. Richer. Gavin meant it and there wasn’t any pre-programed training behind it.

That hand stilled when it brushed against his skin, careful as it peeled the bandage off. As it fluttered out of his sight, he noticed the dried blood that stained the white and briefly he wondered if he had reopened it. Judging from Nines’s look it wasn’t anything threateningly serious so he chose not to worry about it just yet. Tina couldn’t be mad, he hadn’t done anything stupid yet. And he’d remind her as such whenever he was allowed to crawl back to his room and into his own small bed and finally sleep.

Nines’s lips greeted his neck and Gavin was certain his eyes comically widened, he felt and heard it inside the spacious room. He stopped breathing and just stood, still and nervous, as Nines pressed another tender kiss to the junction of his joints.

He didn’t know what to say- if he should say much of anything. He let Nines continue, peppering fleeting kisses and stroking gently all around his chest and arm. The caresses where feather light and ticklish before they got bolder and pressed soundly against him.

“It is believed-“ Fuck Nines started nibbling and sucking. Holy shit. “-that a kiss will make any wound all better on Earth.”

Teeth scrapped, softly at first but then went down firm the farther away from his injury it got. A tongue would apologize for the treatment, lapping with a fierce resolve that Gavin didn’t know Nines would fucking possess. He’d have a mark there.

And there.

And there.

And there, and there and-

“Y-Your highness, I- we-we-,” Gavin’s never been at a loss for words. His hands flutter, useless, at his sides. He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Nines back or not. He was a prince.

Gavin was a guard.

A guard. Just a guard.

“You said whatever I liked, Gavin.” The prince fucking cooed, all embarrassingly attractive and it was just doing things to Gavin.

This was wrong.

But fuck- if that didn’t just make things hotter? What was wrong with him.

“Kiss it better, is what they say.” His voice is husky as it nears Gavin’s ear. And when a shiver consumes his being he finds the pain as a dull reminder. At his hiss, that Gavin really didn’t mean to be audible, Nines returns to his task. His mouth latching right back onto him.

“My prince- “

“Nines. Say Nines.” That’s not the first command he’s ever received, but it’s by far the sexiest. “Drop the formalities when we are alone.”

“Nines,” Is all he is able to gasp. Hands, possessive and powerful, grab him and haul him close.

Gavin may just be a guard, but he never fucking imaged he’d be having a private affair with the goddamn prince.

He’s so telling Tina.