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Damen’s return to consciousness was a slow thing. He became aware of his surroundings in stages, hearing a blur of thoughts all fighting their way to the surface. He could feel the sheets of the bed beneath him, damp in some places from what he assumed- and hoped- was just sweat and not blood. Then he could hear soft voices talking back and forth, far enough that they weren’t directly next to him, but too quiet for him to locate where they were. Finally, his eyes accepted the task of opening, and he could see he was in the infirmary, laid out on a small pallet on the ground amongst rows of other empty matches.
His throat was dry, and his eyes blinked harshly against the candlelight. It was dark outside the window, but there were many lit candles littered around where Damen was laid out. The memories of what had transpired replayed in a sudden burst in his mind. The days between capture and victory, the sound of the echoing bells throughout the halls, Laurent’s ashen face under his hands. It was one kingdom once. A kingdom, and this, it almost seemed too good to be true, as if he would reawaken in a world where they had lost, and Damen alone. “Seriously he’s been asleep for nearly a day Paschal I have every right to wonder if-'' a gasp then, light and quick. “Damen!”
Suddenly his vision is taken over by Laurent, framed by his golden hair like a soft halo against the candles, skin around his eyes nearly purple, his skin slightly aghast. “You’re awake.”
Damen chuckles at this, “It would seem so,” his voice is dry and small, and his laugh turns into a fit of coughing that pulls angrily at his stomach muscles.
“Here,” another voice- Paschal’s he recognizes- speaks, shooing Laurent aside and holding a small cup to Damen’s lips, “Drink it slowly Exalted.”
The water helps settle the coughing and quenches the discomfort in his throat, he bows his head slightly as he finishes his drink, thanking Paschal softly. Turning his head to the side he sees Laurent is knelt on the stone of the ground, watching Damen with cautious eyes. Damen feels the tug of it at his heart, the uncertainty in Laurent’s stare, the guilt he can see plainly. He reaches a hand out, laying it upwards near Laurent’s own, smiling softly when he places his hand in Damen’s own. “How long was I out?”
“A day,” Laurent answers, “Paschal saw to your wound until you were stable and gave you a potion of something to put you to sleep so you could get your rest.” His voice is uneven, nerves or something similar in his tone.
“I suppose you didn’t leave my bedside,” Damen speaks, looking at their hands, Laurent’s so much colder than his own larger one. His tone was light as if the suggestion was just a silly joke made in attempts to tamper the tension between them.
Laurent avoids his eyes, cheeks going pink in the golden light of the flames. “Of course not. You could have died Damen.”
Damen’s eyebrows screw up in confusion at this, “I didn’t though.”
“You could have!” Laurent’s response was immediate, almost angry in tone, but not quite reaching the emotion.
“Laurent,” Damen’s own voice sounds tired even to his own ear, but almost chastised by the pain in his love's voice. “The wound wasn’t fatal, I’ll be alright. I’ve had worse.”
“Yes,” Laurent laughs to himself but there is no humour in the words, “By my own hand you’ve had worse, all those times when-”
Damen squeezes his hand tightly, “Enough. Don’t do this to yourself.”
He finally meets Damen’s gaze, his own looking as if steeled for a battle to be faced. “Kastor is dead. By my own hand, your brother is dead.”
“I remember,” Damen nods, visualizing the fight between Kastor and Laurent, the image of his love holding the sword too big for him, driving it through his brother’s flesh. “I once killed your brother too, and learned recently what that cost you in the aftermath.” He thinks of the words of the Regent, how he twisted Laurent’s pain into something to justify his perversion, how Damen wished to have been the one to end his life. “And I can’t pretend that I understand Kastor’s desires and motives, the kind of lust for power that turned him into someone I do not recognize. And I will mourn him, the man he was when I was young, and the man that he could have been, the leader he never was. But you were protecting the kingdom,” and me he thinks briefly but doesn’t say, “So I cannot fault you for that.”
“Damen-”
“No,” Damen interrupts, knowing the cost of this freedom, this ability now, “I will not hear your arguments. If you feel guilt it is misplaced. This isn’t your doing.”
Laurent looks as if he is about to argue still when Paschal interrupts the two. “Apologies, your highnesses,” he bows his head slightly at the words, “But we believe it best for Damianos’ recovery if we relocate him to the king’s chambers. The bed is better suited for rest and he can be looked after properly with more space.”
Damen thinks of seeing the room his father died in again and bites his lip, considering the much softer mattress, the room a bigger bed could afford himself and Laurent for what will be a long series of conversations, he’s afraid. “Yes,” he agrees then, moving to heave himself up into a seated position, groaning as the movement tugs his wound.
“Damen,” Laurent leaps into action, moving to hold him up, “Stay down you’re injured.”
“‘M fine,” he responds, breath heaving from his chest.
“The move needs to be slow,” Paschal warns, moving himself to Damen’s side as well. “Laurent and Nikandros will aid you in your movement so you are not putting pressure on yourself. Luckily there are no stairs between this room and that and the hallways have already been made clear for you.”
Damen looks past Paschal and sees Nikandros standing in the doorway, his own face contorted in thinly veiled concern. He looks to Laurent again, who's still eyeing him warily, clearly not in favour of this amount of movement so quickly. “I’ll be fine,” he reassures him quietly, reaching out to Nikandros to beckon him closer.
Nikandros moves with the immediate response of a soldier, moving so Damen can sling an arm over his shoulder. It reminds him of their youth, the nights when they would indulge in too much wine for their limits and help one another back to their rooms. “Thank you, friend.”
“You scared us all,” Nikandros whispers to him, “Laurent most of all. I tried to get him to change from his chiton, but he wouldn’t leave you.”
Damen looks to his other side, now standing at almost his full height, to where Laurent now moves to help. He is still in fact in his short chiton, the edges of which are stained darkly with dried blood and sweat. His hair, now that he is looking, is also a tangled mess the likes of which he had not seen. For someone who prides themselves on presentation, the fear Laurent felt is all too clear now that he is paying better attention to his appearance. “Thank you for trying,” he whispers back to Nikandros, knowing how stubborn Laurent tends to be.
“Let me help you,” Laurent goes under his other arm, just tall enough to elevate him ever so slightly. “You absolute oaf.”
Damen sees Nikandros roll his eyes, but he just smiles himself, “What would I do without you?” He asks sarcastically.
The trio makes their way to Theomede's old quarters, the bed clearly having been made up for Damen’s arrival, the sheets already pulled back for him to climb into. Once he settled he took a moment to catch his breath, watching the inaudible exchange between Nikandros and Laurent before Nikandros turned to Damen. “Goodnight Exalted,” Nikandros bowed his head, “Rest well.”
“Thank you Nikandros,” Damen replies, watching him turn and leave the room, leaving Laurent and Damen alone for the first time since Damen woke up.
“Laurent,” he called his attention to him, “Are you okay?”
Laurent swung around to look at Damen, “Am I okay? Are you really asking me that?”
“Yes,” He responded, reaching out a hand for him, “You look very tired. You're still in your blood-stained chiton.”
“You got stabbed in the gut,” Laurent pointed out, but holding Damen’s outstretched hand still, “So I think I should be asking you that question.”
Damen looked down at his stomach, the thick bandages that had been applied to his wounds, the grease from the salve around the edges. “It’s fine. It’ll heal.”
“Will we?” Laurent asks, not meeting Damen’s gaze, “Heal, I mean.”
Damen bit his lip, not wanting to ask for clarification, too tired to have this conversation in any productive manner. “Yes,” he replied then, ignoring all the intricacies that demanded attention, “We have a kingdom to rule. We will be just fine.”
Laurent laughed breathily at that, “I don’t much feel like a king. I’m so ill-prepared. I was never taught to rule.”
Damen squeezed his hand reassuringly, “It’ll be okay. We can figure it out. But you need to rest, everything will look better in the morning, I promise.”
“I don’t even know how to act around you,” Laurent admitted softly, eyes not meeting Damen’s.
This, for some reason, was the admission that took Damen back. He blinked several times before looking up at Laurent, “What do you mean, I don’t understand.”
Laurent laughed that sad humorless laugh once again and looked up to Damen. “ I don’t understand. I was your captor, then your unwilling ally, and then maybe your friend. We were constantly belittling one another when we weren’t fucking,” the words begin to make him flushed in the dim lighting, “And then I usurp your plan, get captured by my uncle, I kill your brother, and now what? We just move on and rule in harmony together and join our kingdoms? So no, I do not understand how to act around you.”
Damen bites his lip at this, trying to keep up, trying to formulate a response to this. “We obviously have a history between us,” he sighs, moving over on the bed to offer Laurent a seat which he does not take. “And I’m not saying that will just get better overnight. We need to learn a lot in the coming months, about becoming the kind of kings we want to be, but also the kind of people we want to be with one another. I meant every word that I spoke to the council Laurent, you must know that. And I wish I could have driven my sword through the Regent myself for what he spoke of, and what he did to you. But the way you acted, how you were, it was a front. You were protecting yourself, I know that now, you were as much a captive as I was in your own kingdom. And I will let you decide how you wish to proceed, and what you want to do.” He takes several steading breathes before continuing. “And maybe there is too much bad blood between us to ever really forgive, but maybe we could heal from those things too.”
He watches Laurent think, no doubt all the words playing in his head over and over. Damen has been subject to the way Laurent’s mind works, the way he can sort through dozens and dozens of ideas at once. “Laurent,” he interrupts the thoughts, “I care very deeply for you.”
He says it because it’s true and because they have been together through all this time, granted in various forms, and not always in the agreement or like of one another, but they have also grown to where they are together. The word love floats in and out of his head as he speaks, but it is late and perhaps too early to place those kinds of confessions in Laurent’s lap, especially with their future unclear. “I’ve done many horrible things.”
“As have I,” Damen counters, “Neither of us is clean here. But we are the rightful kings to our respective nations, and we have a choice to make. Can we face everything we have done, bury it and move on, or are those sins too great and we will rule separately?”
“That choice isn’t all mine to make,” Laurent responds, “I can’t make the decision for us both.”
“You can make it for yourself though,” Damen tells him, hoping that this is a power that Laurent can have with a clear conscience. “I know what I believe would be best for our nations, for me perhaps selfishly.”
“Tell me?”
Damen bites his lip again, figuring out how to say what he wants while also ensuring there is no pressure one way or the other. “I have spent a long time alone. I don’t wish to be alone any longer. And I think our kingdoms can become great once again. We need to build fresh though, and genuinely cannot hold any ill intent or ill thoughts about what happened. The past is like a broken mirror, we cannot fix it, and the reflections of those choices may follow us, but we must turn away from the shards truly if we want to go on. I don’t think the traumas from either of our pasts are going to be healed, but, if we are in this together, we need to be in . I can’t do half measures. So if you don’t want that, or would rather space from me, then I shall grant those wishes and you can head back to Vere by sun up.”
Laurent lets his hand fall away from Damen’s own, finally perching himself on the edge of the mattress. He stares into one of the lit candles, blinking rapidly. “You know I stayed by your side the whole while you slept. I know you couldn’t hear me, but if you ask Paschal he will probably tell you how I talked to you whilst you lay unconscious. I begged you to wake up and be alright, and I don’t beg for anything from anyone.” He laughs shortly and breathily, “So perhaps that’s telling of itself. I don’t know what forgiveness looks like between everything that has happened, I don’t know what healing from those things looks like. I think I have been bleeding from wounds since I was 13 and learned the cost of vulnerability. But you are right, I have also spent too long alone. I care very much for you Damen, perhaps I have for much longer than I was ever willing to accept. I can’t take away the things I have done or the things you have done. But,” he pauses, taking a breath, “I think that I would feel better with you than without you. I don’t want to be alone anymore either.”
Damen feels a wash of something akin to relief flood through him, making his heart soar and his pulse sing. “Truly?”
“You do owe me that vacation. What was it, a week to ourselves in the summer palace.”
Damen laughs, feeling the tension slowly ebb away, “If your delicate Venetian skin can handle it, then yes I would love nothing more.”
Laurent shoots a look at him, rolling his eyes and scoffing. “So,” he begins, twisting his hands together, “Are we doing this.”
“I think so,” Damen admits, a smile creeping its way onto his face. “I wish to.”
Laurent nodded at this, moving to reach for Damen’s cheek where he sat, moving their faces closer and closer together. “I wish to.” And then he finally kisses Damen, lips warm and soft, careful and clearly holding himself back.
That was okay, Damen thought pulling him closer, he had never been one to hold himself back. “Please come sleep,” Damen gasps breaking from the kiss, “I tire of sleeping alone.”
Laurent carefully untangles himself, moving aside to where someone had laid out fresh nightclothes. He looks back at Damen, who respects the unspoken request and looks to his lap, feeling the calluses on his hand from all the sword work of late. The sound of fabric rustling is all he can hear for several moments. Laurent coughs slightly once done, now in clean white nightclothes, his mess of sweat matted hair pulled back into a low ponytail away from his face. “You will make a very pretty king,” Damen says softly, watching the flush rise on his cheeks and ears.
“And you will be,” he pauses, struggling to think of a witty comeback on the spot, “An animal of a king.”
Damen laughs loudly at this, pulling slightly at the places the bandages lay across his stomach. “Good one.”
“Shut up,” Laurent smiles, moving to get into the bed on the other side of Damen, leaving a respectful amount of space between them. “I am too tired to insult you properly.”
“We can’t have that,” Damen says, settling himself properly against the pillows. “The king of Vere needs to be in peak form to insult his lover.”
Rolling his eyes at the phrasing of the words, Laurent settles himself as well, closer to Damen now, only a few inches of space between them. “The council will not be happy with this arrangement.”
“I think you will find I do not give a fuck about what the council has to say,” Damen spoke clearly, turning his head to face Laurent better. “I spoke the truth of my feelings for you to them once, I will do it again should they need persuading.”
Laurent laughs at this, shaking his head, “Your akielon sensibilities are fully intact then. Good to know.”
“Go to sleep,” Damen chastises, reaching out to hold onto Laurent’s arm loosely so as to not make him feel cornered or trapped in any sense.
He watches as Laurent closes his eyes, trying to even his breath clearly. Damen follows suit, closing his own eyes. “You do not care what my uncle spoke of, what I have done?”
Damen’s eyes fly open at the question, the words bristling his heart painfully, but Laurent’s own eyes remain closed, perhaps to avoid seeing anything he wishes not to see in Damen’s expressions. “Laurent,” he breathes heavily, “Of course not. What was done to you ,” he emphasizes, “Was not right. I’m only sorry that I could not have stopped it in any way, or that I could not kill that bastard myself. If I ever do or say anything you do not want please tell me. I would rather face the end of a sword than put you in any fear or discomfort. You know that right?”
Laurent’s eyes are still closed, but his brows are tight and his mouth is in a thin line, the only evidence of any tension in him at all. “Of course. Before we-” he takes a breath, “Before that first time, I was scared. I don’t know if I was testing you or myself more at Ravenel, truly. I didn’t really trust either of us. But you gave me no reason to have fear, showed me for the first time what those kinds of things are meant to be, between two men.” He pauses for a moment, and if Damen sees a single tear fall from under his closed eyelids he doesn’t speak of it, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he asks, squeezing Laurent’s arm carefully, “I’m only sorry those first times between us were in the shadow of my true self. Whenever you want to, whenever you are ready, I will show you what it is to make love, truly and slowly. I promise to only make it good.”
“I thought you wanted me to go to sleep,” Laurent jokes, clearly tired of having all his walls down. “You aren’t doing a good job.”
“Go to sleep,” Damen commands softly, “We have all the time in the world to get there.”
Neither of them speaks of the fact that Damen’s injury would impede him from doing any of what he spoke of, but the words need not be spoken, perhaps, just understanding that this was an agreement between them as well, that Laurent knew Damen was there to help him with these things too. They had plenty of bad blood between themselves, but there were wounds deeply embedded in each of them not caused by the other.
It would be okay, Damen believed as they fell asleep that first time with everything out in the open, they did have all the time in the world between them now, and they would figure out how to heal.