Chapter Text
“You look tired,” Enzo said as Raffaele opened the door to his room following the prince’s quiet knock. “Are you all right?”
Raffaele calmly replied that he was fine, keeping a tight rein on the joy he felt by just seeing Enzo. Although he was exhausted from Adelina’s test, his spirits were easily lifted whenever Enzo was with him. There was a sense of safety, of stability, that came with Enzo, a sense that Raffaele gladly basked in.
Quickly, he recounted Adelina’s test, pulling him into his room with a careful glance around to see if Adelina was around the corner, and closing the door behind him. “Fear and Fury,” Enzo said thoughtfully. “Well. That’s a first.”
“I don’t trust her,” Raffaele said to him. “I’ve never seen someone align with Fear and Fury so strongly. Every single one of her memories was laced with darkness. Something is very wrong with her.” If it had been a few years earlier, saying that would have made Raffaele feel horrible, judging someone’s worth so harshly, without regret. But things changed. He changed. And, in his mind, judging someone’s worth in the most brutally honest way was the best way he could protect the Daggers. Protect Enzo.
Enzo had a look to him, something about him that was off, misaligned from his axis. Raffaele knew that the Tamouran girl reminded him of Daphne, the bond that they had shared. Her arrival had shaken him, dredged up feelings Enzo probably had forgotten he had. After she had died, Raffaele had been the only person who could pull him from his pit of darkness and hate that had begun to fester. “You’re afraid of her,” the prince finally said.
It wasn’t often that Raffaele could say that he was afraid of someone, but Adelina’s powers, the root that they had taken in her mind, it did, in fact, scare him. The fact that her powers hadn’t manifested until now concerned him. It meant that there had been some reason, some factor in her life that kept her from reaching her true potential. And it may have driven her mad.
“I’m afraid of what she could do to us. The Daggers.” He took Enzo’s hand, his calluses and scars feeling rough and familiar against his smooth and soft skin. “As long as you can control her, she could be an asset to us. But as soon as she realizes she could be more powerful on her own…” He didn’t want to dwell on what could happen if she unleashed herself on them.
Enzo softly lifted Raffaele’s chin to meet his mismatched eyes, honey and emerald meeting dark scarlet. “Do you trust me?” His voice was softer than it had been before, as if just the contact with Raffaele calmed him.
There was no hesitation at all when he replied. “Yes,” he said instantly, seeing the fire in Enzo’s eyes burning in a soft flame meant only for him. A heartbeat later, and a voice so much quieter, he added, “with all of my heart.”
His gaze almost seemed to break for a moment, Enzo’s heart skipping a beat as he leaned forward, gently resting his forehead against Raffaele’s. Raffaele’s eyes fluttered closed on instinct, basking in the moment that lay between them, for them, only them. He basked in the feeling as Enzo wrapped his arms around Raffaele’s waist and brought him even closer, in a manner so different from the harsh passion of most of his clients. This, the gentleness, so heartbreakingly calm and languid, it was the difference between desire and love. And, a moment later, he felt Enzo’s lips press against his is a light brush of a kiss, like they had forever to be like this, together. Raffaele felt a soft surge of pleasure from Enzo, the only reminder he had that Enzo only let down his walls with Raffaele. Just the same as the only person that Raffaele wouldn’t use his powers in was Enzo.
His eyes remained closed, breathing in the smell of the Reaper. “She stays, for now,” Enzo said. “But, I swear to you, Raffaele, if she shows any sign of betraying us, I will not hesitate to get rid of her. If you feel anything off about her, tell me. I trust you.”
Of course, he added nothing else on. It was the basic fact of their relationship, their secret kisses and shared looks. Raffaele loved Enzo like he had loved no one else. Yet, for Enzo, it was nowhere near as deeply felt, the heavy weight in his chest that pulled him ro Raffaele was muted, quiet. It was the simplest of truths, that Raffaele cared more. And that broke his heart sometimes, knowing that more was a distant fantasy. “I want you to train her,” Enzo continued, completely unaware of the turmoil that had begun to gnaw at Raffaele. “I want her to trust you, completely.”
The prince’s hand came up to cup Raffaele’s cheek, brushing away strands of hair as he rubbed his thumb against his jawline. With a fluttering breath, Raffaele leaned into it ever so slightly, relishing the warmth of Enzo’s hand. As Enzo removed his hand, it displaced Raffaele’s carefully done braid, revealing a sliver of the large bruise forming around his throat.
Enzo’s gaze went positively murderous. “Who did this to you,” he asked flatly, fury radiating off him in waves of energy that shocked Raffaele. There was an undertone of something else, though, something he couldn’t identify quite yet.
Had it been any other time, had it not been Enzo asking, Raffaele would not have spoken. The Elites got a bad enough reputation as it was. A seemingly unprompted attack on a wealthy aristocrat of Kenettra would certainly tarnish their reputation further. But, there was something about Enzo defending him that made Raffaele not care about what the world thought. Like it was only them in the world, only them that mattered.
He met Enzo’s gaze, felt the heat that was radiating from him. “Count Maurizio Saldana,” he said. The expression on Enzo’s face was nothing short of vengeful, something he almost never was, even in the case of Teren or Guilietta. Now, it had become personal for him. He pressed his lips to Raffaele’s forehead, gently passing his finger over the consort’s lips as if remembering the kiss they had shared moments before.
“Don’t keep secrets from me,” he said, the hard edge to his voice becoming softened when he spoke to Raffaele, betraying the worry he felt. There was the other emotion, Raffaele realized, the underlying energy he couldn’t make out under the mask of rage. Worry. Genuine, terrified worry for Raffaele’s wellbeing.
As Enzo stormed off, pulling his hood over his head and his mask over his face, Raffaele sat on his soft bed, wondering if he had been wrong about Enzo. Maybe he had been wrong in thinking that he didn’t care as much. Maybe, he pondered, Enzo showed it in a different way. Not in the soft and calm waves of dedication that Raffaele had. No, not that. Enzo was all fire and passion and ambition. He defended. He defended the Daggers. He defended Raffaele .