Chapter Text
The villagers tell him this border town is home to many women. Damen grins at him when he hears, unrepentant flirt that he is.
"You're married, Damianos." Laurent says. He's teasing, but the villager looks up at him, worried.
"Your Majesty," The man says, faintly and obviously concerned. "The entire village is made up of," The man hesitates, glancing at the woman behind him. He leans forward and whispers "Women of ill repute and their bastards." like the very worst of all curses.
Laurent blinks. And blinks again. "The entire village?" He says. His voice is pitched lowly, personal to the man. The man nods and wrings his hands.
"Sire, it would bring you ill fortune to visit."
Damen snorts heavily. "They were hit with the earthquake, same as everyone else in this region. It seems the ill fortune has already happened." Laurent sits back in his saddle.
Theoretically, he'd known there were social pariahs. Women who'd crossed the boundary of same sex dalliances. Men who'd obviously done the same. Obviously, it was easier to tell with one, than the other, when an ill begotten pregnancy befell some poor soul. But an entire village?
"I will be in the best of company." He tells the villager. No need for the man to spread rumors that he was courting fate. "I appreciate your loyalty to the crown." The villager nods and bows. He steps back and still looks worried. Laurent smiles at him and subtly motions Damen to continue on.
* * *
They've been riding the countryside. Not quite aimlessly, but with no real route besides starting in Arles and ending in Ios.
Laurent had wanted to visit the country he'd spent two honest years ruling with Damen. Had wanted to take their time, with and without their guards, to explore the areas in between the major towns and cities.
The earthquake had happened suddenly, though the horses had noticed first. They'd been camping with their entourage in a field between Fortaine and Ravenel. Almost to the border of Delpha. Laurent had been hoping to reach Marlas before midday. The earthquake had hit, scaring man and beast, and lasting for many moments. None of the tents had quite survived the shake, destabilizing and collapsing.
Damen had found it hilarious, laughing as they wormed their way out of their tent, naked. Laurent had spent the time cursing a storm, hoping that the campfires had been far enough away from the cloth. No casualties were had in the camp, and with very little fuss, the tents were remade.
They didn't see the fires until after they broke camp in the morning. A dark plume of smoke hung over the edge of a hill, appearing as they reached the crest. The village was no longer flaming, but the thatched roofs of several of the homes were gone. Others had escaped with mere singeing. The villagers were tired, dirty, and not expecting royalty to appear in front of them.
The village speaker paid them respects and set them off, unwillingly as he'd been, toward the village just South.
* * *
The woman who came to meet them at the edge of the village, was older than Laurent could safely guess. She was wizened and deceptively strong for her hunched frame. She was accompanied by a man of what looked to be Damen's age. She bowed, as did they.
"Your Majesty." The woman said. She had a raspy voice, from age or affliction, Laurent couldn't tell.
"Elder," He said respectfully. "We've come to help with reparations from the quake." He told her. She turned a knowing eye up to him and nodded.
"We have survived the earthquake with no injuries, save our interrupted sleep." She said. She turned, waving off her helpers as one hands her a walking cane. "You are welcome to all we have, Your Majesty."
Laurent is formulating a response that doesn't boil down to 'everything you have is less than we possess on our own' when a flash of movement slides into his vision. A girl, no more than 10, runs to the old woman.
The girl is a mess. Covered from head to bare foot in mud and grass. "Grand-mere," The girl huffed. "Gael pushed me into the river! He wouldn't let me up until I promised to give him his shoes back!" She pointed at her bare feet and the old woman placed a hand on her hair.
"Aurelie, you should not take them in the first place." She told the girl. The gentle affection in her voice made Damen smile.
The girl looked up at the men on horseback behind her grandmother and her eyes widened. Laurent looked into a face that could have been lifted from his memories and his eyes widened too.
* * *
"Laurent?" Damen was saying from two feet away. Laurent didn't care. The girl stared at him in shock for a moment before taking off the way she'd come. Laurent stared after her and felt his chest compressing painfully. "Laurent, are you alright?" Damen reached for his hand and Laurent tore his eyes away from the corner of a house she'd disappeared behind.
"What?" he asked his worried husband. "I'm fine."
The old woman was looking at him, calm and with a knowing look in her eye. "Your Majesty, if I may, I believe we might have a discussion."
Laurent, still fielding the shock going through his mind, nodded and dismounted. He vaguely sees Damen doing the same, with his husband's face displaying a healthy dose of suspicion.
The woman leads them to a rather large house towards what could be the middle of the village. "We keep the fosterlings here." She opened the door and the layout becomes clear in an instant. An orphanage. "Women with no prospects bring their children here. They come in as bastards, and leave as citizens." The woman is speaking to Damen, as Laurent is reeling.
"The girl, Aurelie." Laurent is following, but Damen turns to him sharply. "She's-"
"An orphan, yes. Her mother brought her here nearly ten years ago, named her, then fell to sickness." The woman shook her head. "The girl has been here since.
Damen is looking at him. The eyes of dawning understanding as the pieces fall into place. "You can't think-" he says.
"She's Auguste's." Laurent says, no hesitation or doubt in his mind. "She's my niece, and a Princess of Vere."