Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"In the old scriptures, there is a pantheon of gods- But now, three remain. They are the only ones who lasted the test of time. My Lady, the protector of the innocent, and helper of the needy. The Vrondi, who watches the borders of our lands, and controls magic. Then, the last god. The Firebird, the Creator, who created our world and judges us after death. He is Fate in all sense of the word. And gods, we need you all now. My mother, the beloved queen Netalia, has been slaughtered on this day. Firebird, have mercy on her, Vrondi, catch her killers, and My Lady…I beg of you, let no more lives be taken.“ 

-Diary of Virgil, prince of Antir. Written in the first watch of the night, the autumn of war, five years past. 

 The prince leaned against the railing of  the ship, looking up at the full moon with weary eyes. It was far too late for him to be awake, and the night crew of the ship shot worried glances at each other behind his back, unbeknownst to the exhausted brunette. He was far too distracted by his thoughts to worry, for once, until a careful hand touched his shoulder. He snapped out of his memories, out of the thoughts of his mother, out of the growing fear that he was next. Because Virgil Harper was the prince, and with the king so occupied with the war on the Western border, and his mother six feet under, he was the only one who was left to take care of problems. Even if father sent me away, I still have to do my duty. But all of that left his mind when he turned to see who’d touched him, tensing enough that he felt the soft fabric of his hood brushing the top of his neck.

"Captain. I thought I’ve told to not to walk so quietly." 

The taller man, Captain Roman Underwood, simply raised an eyebrow at his prince, looking like he was dangerously close to mocking Virgil. 

"I practically stomped. Honestly Highness, you need to keep your guard up, if I had been an assassin-”

 "Then I’d have needed to find a new body guard. It’s your job to keep me alive, remember? I shouldn’t have to worry.“ 

Roman’s expression soured, much to the prince’s satisfaction. There was nothing that made him remember who was supposed to be in charge more than taking the annoying Captain down a notch or two. Even if Virgil should have had his guard up a bit more, reminding Roman of his job was always enough to put the white-clad protector in a less teasing mood. 

But soon enough, Roman shook off his exaggerated reaction, that he’d put up mostly to see that tiny smile flitting across his prince’s lips. He stepped over to the rail so they could both gaze up at the sky, and Virgil reluctantly returned his gaze to the moon. But the Captain’s green eyes were quickly drawn back to the man he served, taking in the sight of Virgil in the moonlight. His hair being moved around his face by the breeze, the rare glances of the prince’s arms, for once uncovered as the wind caught in Virgil’s treasured cloak. His brown eyes reflected the stars and the moon, his pale skin made flawless under the silver light, even without most of the cosmetics his highness liked to apply. It wasn’t that Roman didn’t appreciate the freckles- In reality, they reminded him of the constellations. But this version of Virgil, the flawless thing, he was what kept Roman on this ship. He’s what made sure he didn’t strangle the royal brat that emerged once the moon had vanished again. 

"Why are you out this late, anyway? You need your sleep, we’re docking tomorrow. Or, today. It’s past midnight.”

Virgil let out a heavy sigh, and let his gaze fall to the waves underneath them, lapping at the sides of the ship, far below. It made the heir more nervous, but at this point he needed to be able to focus on that. Scared of the predictable was better than paranoid. 

“I just couldn’t sleep. Nervous about tomorrow, I guess.”

 It wasn’t a lie, but even so, it made Virgil’s throat tighten. He’d never had much of a problem with lying, not with things he considered insubstantial, but with the sight of Roman’s lips tightening, the disapproving look in his eye, the prince knew he’d been caught. Because the Captain could see right through him right now. Maybe it was because the half-truth had been s obviously not all of it. Maybe because he was too exhausted to really sell it. 

 Maybe it was the moonlight.

“Don’t even say it, Captain. You don’t believe me, yada-yada, blah blah blah. Stop looking at me like that.”

 Roman blinked a bit, his lips parting in slight surprise. But, he glanced away for a second, allowing a smile to come to his lips. It infuriated the young prince.

“I didn’t say a thing. And anyway, I do believe you. I always do, remember?" 

That made Virgil go completely still, however, and the Captain could swear on his name that the wind held everything in place, just for a moment. The prince turned his back on the sea, leaning his back against the bars as his arms slowly crossed. Roman ignored the shift in position, even though he knew it as Virgil’s I would have you hung, if I cared that much about how you acted, look. The bodyguard just looked back at the moon, and continued before his employer had the chance to start berating him. 

"But, I do think I know what’s got you so mopey. It’s the anniversary of her death, isn’t it? Your mother.”

The prince didn’t bother responding to that, deciding that anything Roman could gleam from his voice would be too much. He’d worked hide to make sure he was over the death of the Queen Natalia, but Virgil’s obsession with getting over his grief meant never really getting it out of his system. He missed her dearly, but he didn’t want people to know that- For some reason unknown to the prince’s protector, Virgil thought it would make him more of a target. Or even worse, an object of pity. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, Vir- Your Highness. But if you do want to, you know where to find me.”

 That was enough to draw a smile to Virgil’s lips, and it made Roman’s heart soar. The slip in formality had the Captain cursing himself, but that smile had his mind praising himself. Good job Roman, make him happy, Roman. Keep him safe, Roman, even if it’s from himself. 

 "Yeah, I know where to find you. Camped outside my door, or creeping a foot behind me. I’m honestly just waiting for the day you insist on guarding me in the bath-“

 Both of them let out little laughs, Virgil’s a breathy thing that nearly vanished in the wind, and Roman’s a single little bark of mirth. It broke the tension a bit, letting the paranoid prince and the overattentive guard relax a bit. The Captain hoped that the moonlight didn’t show the tinge of pink in his cheeks, the unwanted reaction to the thought of the man before him, completely uncovered, in front of him- He shut that thought down quickly, though. Because it was fine to stare from afar, but Virgil was a thing not to be touched. He was a prince, he was his boss, he wasn’t allowed to long for anything more than what he had. But his heart gave a little lurch at the lingering smile on Virgil’s lips, and he promised himself that in the morning, he’d be back to trying not to kill the man he was paid to protect. He loved Virgil now, but this was a more mellowed version of him, a hurting version. That was it.

"Come on, you should get to bed now. You need to be awake in the morning.”

 Virgil let himself be led by the arm, off the deck, and down to his quarters. Roman left him at the door, with a bow and a smile, and the prince thought for a moment that he saw his Captain’s eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. 

 Just a trick of the moonlight, of course.

Chapter Text

“Where to do you roam, oh sweet little thing? Where is the place you call home?”
“I have no such place, my good sweet king. I know only gold sand and sea foam.”
“Why now do you weep, oh sweet little thing? Does pain now keep you from sleep?”
“I cry for my losses, my good sweet king. A sorrow that cuts far too deep.”

-A children’s rhyme, sung on the docks on sunny days.

It had started as small things. Little treats and candies, or bread from the baker’s. Patton had rarely stolen for himself in those early days, always risking himself instead for the children that ran along the piers, that always seemed just a tad too thin. At thirteen, he’d been arrested three times, been beaten by store owners seven times, and had helped children ninety-three times. It made him happy, watching Dolly and Mark slowly gain a bit of weight, watching Carla and Ellie gain some colour in their faces. The sand seemed to turn to gold in their hands, and they had a life to start. But then Patton realized that he himself couldn’t stand without a hazy coming over his vision, and the world shifting around him. He realized that he hadn’t eaten, and he realized that no one would help those kids unless he was there. Even if that gold turned back to sand in his fingers, he needed to make something from it.

So he started to steal a bit more. One extra loaf, one extra apple, just enough to keep him going. He never stole much from the same merchant, never enough to be noticed, but the guilt still weighed on him like a ton of bricks. He’d become a good thief, a perfect pickpocket, but that was no achievement for the blue eyed teen. He was constantly overwhelmed with the thoughts that someone else needed it more, that he should have worked harder on getting a job. Years later, he’d realize why people didn’t hire him. The thin little boy that ran around barefoot, with dirt on his face and a smile on his lips wasn’t the ideal person to work a store. And not, not a thief. He was too far gone by then. Because once again, he had gold in his hands, and this time, it was his.

But that was years ago. And Patton knew that even if it wasn’t the right thing to do, it was what was needed.  Ellie got a job at age eleven, and Dolly was adopted, and it made him so happy to see. Patton couldn’t take care of the little kids now, since he’d been practically run out of the town, but the kids came to see him sometimes. Mark looked after the younger kids, and Ellie made sure none of them had to steal to eat. Patton was proud, but he always felt just little bit sad, seeing that they didn’t need him anymore. Another sign that his usefulness was temporary, like sand slipping between fingers. 

But then he’d found his calling. A group of people that needed him so much, that needed a conscience to lead them down the right path.So with hints and nudges, the thief began to make his way into a group selling Coldrake. It was a dangerous drug, coming all the way from the Pendalon mountains in the east, and Patton was determined to stop it in its tracks. So at seventeen, Patton infiltrated the Chasers. He’d quietly stolen keys for them, and just as quietly returned them, making sure that no raids could go down easily. He accidentally spilled things on blueprints, forgot messages, and slowly but surely, things were slowing down. 

It’s been four years, and he thought he was safe. But then, someone came up to him, and shattered his feeling of security faster than anyone had before.

“Hey, Doll. I have to say, your magic acts are hella cool. I almost didn’t realize you did that on purpose. Oh don’t look so shocked- You aren’t the only one up at night.”

Patton was shocked, to say the least. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes, all the fear and guilt from when he was younger crashing down on his head. But he took the taller man’s hand, and led him to an empty room, lit simply by two lamps on each wall. The man only raised an eyebrow as he took a seat, lounging in one a the few cheap chairs casually, like he wasn’t going to kill the shaking thief in a minute. But before he had the chance to say anything, Patton was already babbling, the tears rolling down his cheeks like drops of diamonds.

“I’ll do anything you want, please don’t tell them, I won’t do it again I swear- I can get you anything you want, I can find you gemstones, o-or gold, or I can make you a lifetimes worth of cookies! Please, please please please don’t let them kill me, I’m so so so sorry Sir-” 

The stranger may have rolled his eyes, but Patton couldn’t tell behind the flood of tears, ad the dark lenses that the other wore. But when he leaned forward, and took the thief’s hands, his tone was completely calm, maybe even a little amused.

“Chill, babe. I won’t let them kill you, and I don’t want any gemstones or gold. I’m perfectly fine with what I’ve got now.”

He tilted his head down a bit, looking up at the mess of a man over the top of his glasses. He let go of Patton’s hands, instead lifting his hands to brush away the tears from his face. 

“And don’t you go around calling me Sir. I ain’t no better than you, and you ain’t no less than anybody else. Don’t let ‘em tell you otherwise. You can call me Remy. Now take a deep breath Doll, and listen to me, a’ight?”

Patton simply nodded, hiccuping slightly when he opened his mouth to say something. The small sound made Patton blush, and Remy chuckle, But the calm man didn’t comment, he just pulled a chair over with his foot, and sat down the emotionally unstable boy before him. 

“Now, I know you’ve been working against thing gang for a long time. I’ve seen little things, and I might be one of the only ones sober enough to notice. You aren’t with the other cartels, that’s for sure, because they ain’t smart enough to get in here without raising some eyebrows. There’s only one group who could have, and if you were with them, you’d have known me in a heartbeat. But you didn’t. Now, I know you ain’t mischief minded, you’ve just got a big heart, and nothing better to do. But. There is something better that you can do. Something bigger.” 

Remy gave Patton a moment to process everything he’d said, and once the blonde nodded, he continued, asking the question he’d been wanting to ask since he’d first seen Patton. 

“Do you want to join the Resistance? The king that rules our land is the reason why this cartel is so big. The reason why poverty rates are so high- Hell, he’s ignored our every outcry since he took the throne. But we can make a difference, a real difference. So…. What do you say, Patton Silvio? Do you want to make a change?”

Patton lay in bed that night, thinking to himself about how crazy his life was. He could be killed. Killed. But without him, so many others could die instead. He needed to stand up to what he believed in, he needed to make sure no one ever had to grow up like he had. Like the kids had. So as he lay near slumber’s door, a smile on his lips, a thought occurred to him about the economy. It didn’t happen often, but this was something important. He sat up bolt right, his eyes wild, remembering something about how everything was so expensive that people barely needed anything less than a single dollar. 

“Oh my god, We’re going to make change.”

He fell asleep happy, and he dreamed of sand, and he dreamed of gold, and he dreamed they were the same. 

Chapter Text

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, Roman being a gag disaster.

"Coldrake is a drug from the Pendalon Mountains, just East of our borders. It's highly addictive, hallucinogenic, and way too easy to come across. Named after the mythical creature, it has become very popular in the the slums of both my kingdom, and our neighbors. They have asked for our aid with the epidemic, but my father was too busy dealing with the tension on our Western border."

 "It usually comes in the form of a silver power, or a purple crystal, and is thought to be the by-product of some mage, or perhaps an unknown beast from the mountains. Seeing as my father wanted me out of the capital in case a war starts, and he was too distracted to send anyone else, I have been given the impossible task of hunting down the biggest dealers. How they expect my crew to do that, however, I haven't a clue." 

"Silver, and Amethyst, the Coldrake hunts for prey..it's glowing eyes can hypnotize, and steal your soul away...."

 -Diary of Virgil, prince of Antir. Written in the first day watch, the spring of change, four months past. 

Waking the insomniac prince from his sleep was the worst part of Captain Roman’s job. It was too early for him to be awake, but Virgil needed to be awakened, so here he is. The red-clad guard walked into the room pouting, but the expression quickly softened as he watched the exhausted prince, slowly noticing the subtle grace of his form. The silk blankets that Virgil had made Roman carry on to the ship were now pulled up to the prince’s chin, leaving only the suggestion of a body underneath, the freckles that were clear as day in the sunlight that came through the window, but what really struck Roman was Virgil’s eyelashes. No one had the right to eyelashes that pretty, but when the hier let out a quiet sigh and rolled onto his side, the guard remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He remembered that Virgil was not his. He was not to be touched.

Because Roman was not te same creature as his Highness, and he couldn’t forget. Virgil was leagues above him, and the love-struck guard couldn’t afford to forget it. He’d already had his heart broken by a high-born once, and he didn’t intent to break it again.

So, he sighed, and decided he’d wake his prince slowly, and nicely. Which of course, to him, meant brutally ripping the blankets away from the peaceful boy. By now he was used to the sight he’d be greeted with as he could be; the beauty before him in nothing but a thin pair of pants, but it still took his breath away. 

“Captain, you fucking asshole, I will have you executed.” 

 The mumbled threat made the guard laugh, as he watched the pale prince curl in on himself in an attempt to keep the heat. It was futile, and after a moment, the brown-eyed heir sat up with a huff, and a glare.

“I wasn’t kidding. I’ll literally throw you off the ship if you don’t let me sleep.”

Roman rolled his eyes now, because of course Virgil forgot. It’s not like he was supposed to be the one running things, or anything.

“We’re docked, genius. We’ve been sitting here for three hours because we didn’t want to wake you until you’d had at least five hours of sleep, and the sun was up.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide, and the room filled with laughter as Roman watched the half-aware prince tumble out of bed, and run to his dresser. He flung open the doors of his wardrobe, and the guard automatically stepped forward to help the frantic heir.

Honestly, Roman thought he was closer to a man-servent than a guard. It’s a wonder the prince survived without him.

Like his guardian angel.

“We’re near Celbus, and it’s pretty hot here, so don’t you dare try and wear that over sized tunic you love so much. Wear something thin, and wear as few layers as possible. I can’t have you passing out while investigating.”

Virgil rolled his eyes even as he moved to grab the one outfit that his guard was glancing at strongly. In reality, Roman just wanted to see him without the heavy cloak he usually wore, and that silvery-black shirt made him remember why he loved working with royalty. He turned as Virgil got dressed, and as soon as he heard the clip of the prince’s belt buckle, he turned to face him again. Virgil gave him a tiny smile, barely even there, before turning to the mirror. 

“Highness, please. You don’t need to cover your face in that stuff, you look fine.” 

Virgil glared at him through the mirror, and Roman smirked. The prince, being a stubborn bastard, padded the pale power under his eyes without looking away from his protector, covering his face with an even layer. Watching the man in red go from smug to exasperated was too amusing to ignore, so as he applied the kohl around the eyes, he kept glancing at Roman, meeting his eyes as often as he could. To his surprise, every time he looked, his protector was always looking right back at him. 

A guardian angel.

An hour later, as his Highness walked off of the ship he’d spent nearly half a year on, he looked back, and saw Roman looking at him again. With the sun behind him glinting off the gold in his clothing, he looked like he was on fire. A seraph angel, always perched on his shoulder. Roman sent him a gleaming smile, and the prince took a deep breath.Today would be alright, because his protector was at his side, as always.

He couldn’t help but wonder though, as he felt said angel pinch his arm, a running gag between the pair, what on earth he did wrong to get this angel.

Chapter Text

"I can’t say I expected to find out what I did, the day my father sent me away. He’d called me into the audience chamber, which is a formality we usually skip, in favor of a more comfortable setting. But when I saw Lord Demitri standing behind the throne, I knew why the change had occurred. My father’s adviser, who doubled as the court mage, was fanatical about the acts put up at the royal court. I was so busy glaring at him that I almost missed my father telling me that I was to leave him, for no shorter a time than three years.”

“Later, in his chambers, he explained that the war on our border was becoming too much of a threat to the capital, and that both he and Lord Demitri agreed that I, as the heir, needed to be kept safe. I think that it was less my father’s doing than the mage’s, but I couldn’t refuse my father’s pleading look. Looking back, however, I’m glad that I left.”

-Diary of Virgil, prince of Antir. Written in the second watch of the day, the autumn of truth, two days past.

As Virgil stepped off the ship, he was nearly knocked over by a young child running passed him. The docks was a busy place, even so early in the morning, with half of the shops already open and bustling with costumers. He walked through the crowd, with Roman right behind him, as he slowly took in the kinds of people here. The prince had only left the capital city twice in his life before this, and never ad he been to a place that was so different. The dusty air smelled like salt, and fresh baked bread, and fish, a combination so different than the flowery scent of home, or the ocean’s light smell that Virgil had to stop and adjust for a moment.

“Watch out!”

That was all the warning Virgil got before a blonde man ran into him, knocking them both to the ground. Roman got the stunned prince back on his feet, but before he could go to help the blonde, he was already up. He flashed them both a blindingly cheery smile, that reminded Virgil of a diamond flashing in direct sunlight, and dusted himself off.

“Jeepers! I’m so sorry about that Sir, you aren’t hurt are you?”

The prince shook his head, as Roman looked the newcomer over. He didn’t wear shoes, which wasn’t particularly uncommon in these parts. It got warm often, and it simply wasn’t worth wasting the materials on anything other than show boots, which were usually unnecessary. Other than that, he was an unusual man. Hot choppy golden hair curled just slightly, only long enough to brush the wire framed lenses that were perched on his nose. His clothes were old, worn, but just a bit too big, making him seem a lot smaller than he was. The most unusual thing, though, was the way his blue eyes widened at the silver circlet that adorned Virgil’s dark hair, and the sword at Roman’s side.

“Oh my gosh! You’re fancy folk, aren’cha? Did you come from up North?”

The prince regained control of his tongue, and gave the peppy local a smile. He didn’t know how much he wanted to tell the people here about his position, but admitting to some things probably couldn’t hurt. Probably.

“Yes. I live right by the capital, actually. What’s your name?”

Roman’s hand curled around the hilt of his blade when the energetic man’s hand shot out, but he relaxed when he realized it was just for an enthusiastic handshake. If everything goes this well, we won’t need to stay for too long.

“Just call me Patton! Do you need someone to show you around the place? It’s probably not as cozy as the capital, but we’ve got some nice things to see! Like the waterfalls, or the Glade- Oh! I bet you two would love the cliffside, it’s so pretty, and-”

Virgil watched in fascination as Patton grew even more animated, with wild hand gestures as he started babbling about the local sightseeing that could be done. There was so much light in his eyes, and somewhere deep inside himself, Virgil was jealous at how energized he was. It’s seven in the morning, for heaven’s sake. He cut Patton off, though, with a small smile, and a pleading look to Roman. The Captain pretended he didn’t see it, forcing the heir to speak up himself.

“Patton, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I’m afraid we have to be going. I’m to be staying with a family friend, and they’re expecting us soon.”

Virgil nearly winced as Patton’s face fell, then quickly reanimated again. His father did the same thing when he didn’t want Virgil to see him upset. He realized with a start that is father did that because of things fro his childhood. Virgil’s mother had been the only royal, and his father had only been noble-born, and was treated horribly as a result of the court standards. Virgil wanted to know who had hurt this man like that. 

“Oh- Well, I hope I see you around, Sir...?”

“Uh..Virgil.”

“Virgil! What a pretty name! Anyway, You and your friend have fun, okay?”

As the blonde skipped off, Virgil turned to glare at Roman. His guard returned the look with one of innocent confusion, as of he’d missed Virgil’s silent cues to help him in the conversation. The Captain hadn’t missed when the prince tugged on his sleeve, nor when he nudged his foot into Roman’s, nor even the glances he kept sending. He was perfectly content to pretend he’d been caught up in listening to the conversation.

“Captain.”

“Yes, Highness?”

“You were oddly silent.”

Roman didn’t miss the scorn in his employer’s tone, either. He simply smiled in response, quirking his head to one side, like a confused puppy. Virgil’s eyes darkened.

“I thought you preferred when I didn’t talk, your Highness.”

“You know very well I hate small talk, you should have stepped in, and-”

“And what?”

Roman watched with glee as Virgil stopped, realizing what he was about to say. He raised an eyebrow at the prince, daring him to say it.

“I won’t help unless you tell me what to do next time, my Lord.”

The heir felt the fire in his viens slowly freeze, and he forced himself not to curl in on himself. That smug smile never failed to make him feel inferior, and it was like dousing his anger in snow.

“Highness.”

Virgil forced out the words, in a strained tone that sent a spike of guilt through Roman’s stomach. 

“Next time.. Help me.”

“As you wish.”