Chapter Text
The warmth of the summer night was broken by a cool breeze, and Camus let go of a deep sigh. It was not that he disliked the party around him, but rather that he despised the entire premise of the season. To come to the city at the hottest part of the year, only to engage in social climbing, stiflingly formal networking, and marriage-seeking. There was no greater display of pompous posturing than that of the social season gatherings. While he would not be opposed to those games if there was any point in them, he found none.
“Is everything alright, Myu?” a warm, chipper voice asked by his side. His Majesty, Reiji Kotobuki, sat beside him, sprawled across a large and comfortable seat, bright grin momentarily replaced with a furrowed brow and tight mouth.
Camus glanced downward, giving a nod. “I am fine, Your Majesty. My apologies for worrying you.” He clasped his hands behind his back, straightening his posture. To upset the king at such a public event was the last thing he wanted. “It’s a beautiful night. I simply found myself getting a bit lost in the music.”
At that, Reiji laughed, bright and resounding, like bells. He was always so cheerful on nights like this. It was a relief to see him happy. “That’s not like you. You’d have a better time on the dance floor, you know.”
“After I came at your request? I thought you might like it if I actually spent time with you.” He offered the best smile he could manage. Perhaps he was no better than those who masqueraded as the pinnacle of grace seeking marriage and connections after all. They all wore their masks. “Besides, who here do you picture me dancing with?”
“Pay attention to the floor. If you don’t find someone by the next dance, you’ll just have to dance with me.”
Camus’s jaw slackened for a moment at the idea, and then he scoffed. “Your Majesty, your husband would have my head.”
“I would,” A low voice murmured from the far side of pergola. In the warm, flickering light of the candles, the angles of Ranmaru Kurosaki’s face were harshly illuminated. His smile verged on dangerous as he approached.
Camus gave a low bow. “Your Majesty.”
He was waved off as Ranmaru approached his husband, offering a glass of wine. “Thought you might want something to drink if you have to deal with unpleasant company.”
“Ran-Ran, don’t be mean!” Still, Reiji took the glass, and his smile became less bright, settling into something softer and much more genuine. He always had this way around Ranmaru, visibly becoming at more ease in his presence. “I was just telling Myu that he should find someone to dance with. He would have fun.”
“Mm, but who would dance with him?”
“I could dance with any of the fine young men in this courtyard,” Camus said, crossing his arms against his chest. It wasn’t that he would like to make an enemy of the king, but they were so incredibly far past hope for anything resembling a normal and pleasant conversation. To exchange pleasantries with Ranmaru was out of the question. He stepped forward, leaning against the column of the pergola.
The dance floor spread out before him, and Camus took a breath. Had he been more interested in this sort of event, he was certain the beauty of it would have been striking. Ornate chandeliers hung high above, flowers littered throughout the courtyard. The small band was set to the side, violins filling the air with their bright, warm tones as couples swirled and those on the sidelines rattled on with their gossip. The gowns that flowed over the floor were like a sea of multicolored jewels, each worn by an owner that Camus could already tell he would find unspeakably dull.
These balls were never something he particularly enjoyed. It was not that he had no interest in finding romance-- he had a rather vested interest in finding a husband, particularly in finding one during this current season. However, he knew the games that were played by those who flocked to the city only for social gatherings such as this. It was more likely that he might find a sweet young thing looking to take his hand and then discard him entirely once they’d achieved rank or met the right person through him than that he would find someone here with any interest in him . This wasn’t the place to seek true interest from another party.
And if he were looking to marry someone he had no interest in, there was a perfectly good option available to him as it was.
Still, he would need to dance tonight. To refrain would be to allow Ranmaru’s comment. Surely, he could find someone acceptable enough for one dance. It need not be anyone life-shatteringly beautiful or a light in the mass of dullness before him. Just someone he might tolerate for a spin around the room. His eyes passed over the familiar faces of the crowd. He had attended so many of these balls at Reiji’s request that he had become familiar with even those who weren’t of high nobility. Too many of them had introduced themselves, looking for something he would not provide. He was not a rung on a ladder, and he refused to play the part.
His wandering gaze stopped for a moment, landing on a particularly bright shade of turquoise. Someone new. Camus had never before seen those bright eyes, or that soft, pinned back hair. For a moment, he held his breath.
“His name’s Mikaze,” that chipper voice said beside him, far too close. When had Reiji even gotten up? “This is his first season. First ball, too.” Camus could practically hear that smile on his lips.
“He looks old to be a debutante.” While he was certainly young , most people entered society in their early teens. There was no way he could have been a child.
“Only two years younger than you. His family is all doctors, and they’re usually too busy to make it to the city for the season. He may not have a title, but his family is successful by any standard. And look at him-- he’s really lovely, isn’t he?”
Normally, Camus would deny even the slightest interest. He knew how these things ended. He didn’t want to deal with finding someone whose company he enjoyed only to realize what they were truly after. But, the words fell from his lips against his will. “He’s beautiful.”
“Ask him to dance.” Camus was met with a poke in the ribs.
He winced, swatting the man’s hand away. He swore, sometimes Reiji seemed as though he had never outgrown his rowdy youth spent running through the castle halls in search of some poor noble to pester. “Absolutely not.” It would be better to keep the image of such a lovely man safe in the back of his mind, untarnished by any potential harsh reality.
“This is your third ball this season. You’re really going to spend three beautiful nights all by yourself? You should be out there, having fun. It’s not good to be all alone, Myu.” There was a sadness in Reiji’s voice that the man couldn’t stand.
“I’ve served your family since I was a child. Despite my best efforts, I have never been alone. You’d never allow for that.”
“You can’t tease me out of this conversation,” Reiji said, a hand on his hip. “You know what I mean. It’s nice… to have someone. I can’t believe sometimes how lucky I got that one of the only available princes in a kingdom even remotely nearby turned out to be the perfect person for me.” Even when he was trying to be serious, that little smile peeked through when he spoke of Ranmaru. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am. And even if I can’t find a husband this year, I will be.” Even if he couldn’t find a suitable marriage partner, that didn’t mean his life was over. Service to the crown would just continue to come first on his priority list. There were worse fates.
Reiji pursed his lips into a pout. “One dance.”
Camus opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by footsteps directly behind them. Expecting Ranmaru, he turned his head over his shoulder for just a quick glance. Shit. Cool blue eyes and a delicate smile greeted him from mere meters away. That would be no good. He let out a sigh, adjusting his posture. “One dance,” he agreed. Anything to get him out of here before the quickly approaching redhead tried to speak to him. Camus didn’t wait to see Reiji’s face light up-- he simply began to walk, praying that the approaching man wouldn’t try to talk when he passed.
“Baron, I was just looking for you--”
“My sincerest apologies, Jinguji,” Camus said, giving a small bow. He needed to get out of here. The last thing he wanted was to be forced to maintain a conversation with Ren Jinguji, especially in front of the royal family, especially during the season, especially at a ball that was nothing more than a marriage market. “I’ve promised a dance to someone.”
The pained expression that painted itself over the man’s face was one he had ignored a thousand times before, but it still filled Camus with the faintest sense of guilt. “Right. I’ll find you later, then.”
Camus sincerely hoped that he would not.
It was not that Jinguji was a bad man. He was sweet and his musical career had incredible prowess. While he wasn’t of noble birth, he never seemed all that interested in ascending the ranks. Camus would also be remiss to ignore the fact that he was quite easy on the eyes. It wasn’t Jinguji’s fault that Camus so desperately needed to ignore him.
He did his best to push the image of those sad eyes to the back of his mind as he entered the dance floor. Here, it was so much warmer, the area overcrowded by gossipers and dancers alike. It made the summer heat even more stifling than it had been in the calm of the pergola.
Perhaps, however, he could withstand the sweltering temperature, just for a moment. Before him, standing off to the side of the floor, was the reason he had come here, wearing the softest smile on his lips as he spoke. Camus had always been one to laugh when he saw young ladies swoon, but in the moment, he supposed he understood losing balance at the sight of another person. The man’s hair was carefully arranged, a delicate hair clip with glittering gems keeping one side pulled away from his face. A long lavender jacket that fit him so perfectly fell to the floor, moving like water when he laughed. And those eyes… Camus could lose himself in them.
Camus stepped forward, and though he had commanded the attention of rooms filled with aristocrats and royalty since he was only a child, the gaze that landed on him made him almost frightened of acknowledgement. It took everything in him to keep his heart within his chest as he bowed. “Pardon me. You’re Mr. Mikaze, yes?”
He could feel that stare moving over him. It shouldn’t have made him so nervous, being looked over by a commoner, and yet he couldn’t help the anxiety that pumped through his veins. “I am.” Oh no. His voice was so soft, like dancing light.
“I was hoping I might steal you away for a dance. If you’d allow me.”
The man looked toward his conversation partner, and Camus looked him over for a moment. Natsuki Shinomiya, all smiles and sunshine as always. Camus had met with him plenty of times before, sharing long meetings and quiet social gatherings. The world of nobility was small, and while he had often found Shinomiya rather too strong of a personality, he did bring a calm presence to more heated rooms. Was this his chaperone? He had never mentioned any relative he planned to bring along to the season. Granted, sometimes it seemed he would lose his head if it weren’t attached-- to think he might neglect to mention it wasn’t outlandish.
“You don’t have to ask me, Ai. You can dance with anyone you like.”
Ai. So that was his first name.
Mikaze nodded, turning back to face Camus before nodding again. “You may have a dance if I may have your name.”
Camus blinked, surprised for a moment. It wasn’t often that he encountered someone who did not know him. Though, he supposed if the man’s family wasn’t nobility and he spent his time in the country, he might not know his face. “I am Camus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled, offering his hand, and doing his best to stifle the fluttering of his stomach when the man took it in his.
“You’re the Earl that Syo mentioned, then.”
Kurusu had mentioned him. Camus never could decipher what the man thought of him. He only hoped that he hadn’t said anything too wretched. “I suppose I am.” Camus stepped forward, hand still in Mikaze’s. “It’s Mikaze, yes?” As they neared the center of the dance floor, Camus couldn’t help but notice the way the candlelight flickered against the bright aqua eyes that held his own.
“I prefer just Ai. If I may call you by first name, I’d like you to call me by mine as well.” He spoke so evenly, so unbothered. It was pleasant, hearing someone so unintimidated and uninterested in the formalities of his title.
“Very well, Ai.” Camus liked the way the name felt on his tongue. The sound of the previous song rolled to a close, and he offered a smile as the tune slowed. A waltz. Reiji had always been a fan of slower pieces, insisting that the romance and close contact was a well deserved reward for those who showed so much restraint with their partners otherwise. As an introductory dance, however, it left much to be desired. “Do you mind if I--?” Camus asked, his hand hovering over Ai’s waist.
A delicate hand gloved in white lace found a place on his shoulder, and Ai nodded. “It’s just a dance.”
“Of course,” Camus breathed, letting his fingers rest against the lavender silk that clung to Ai’s side. “His Majesty told me this is your first season. How are you enjoying the city so far?” He needed something, anything, to distract him from the warmth of the man’s body pressed so close to his.
“It’s loud. But I enjoy the people. I feel like there’s a lot to learn.”
Camus lifted his hand from the man’s hip, raising the other in time with the music to allow Ai to spin below him, the fabric of his coat swirling around him like a mist. He liked the way he closed his eyes while he turned, looking so at peace with the movement. “Mm, it’s quieter outside the season,” he said as he pulled the man back in, hand finding itself once more at his waist. “I enjoy it best in winter.”
“Does it snow much here?” Ai’s head tilted just the slightest amount when he asked. It was endearing.
“Mm, a bit.” Not as much as it had in his home country, he didn’t say. It wasn’t a secret that Camus had been born somewhere else. The accent still lingered, and he often disappeared to attend to any international business there, but… Ai seemed the type to ask questions, potentially questions that he didn’t want to answer. Not now, when every step felt as though he were floating. “How do you know Kurusu and Shinomiya?”
“I suppose it’s complicated. My father’s nephew was once a friend of His Majesty. Our families met through him at some point. I’m staying with them for the season.” As the music slowed, Ai pressed closer, his chest pulling flush against Camus’s. He could feel the rise and fall of Ai’s breath in his lungs, and it took all he had to keep his own from quickening.
“They’re kind people. I imagine they make fine hosts.”
“Mm.” His voice was so soft as he let his head press against Camus’s chest. Camus’s face flushed at the contact. It wasn’t that this was inappropriate, per se. However, this wasn’t something that Camus was used to. To have someone act without hesitance, to lean on him without asking. If it had been anyone else, Camus was sure he might have been irritated with them taking liberties, but… There was something in Ai’s gentle, delicate disposition that only made him feel a growing warmth in his chest.
As he guided the man over the floor, Camus was intensely aware of the feeling of the forehead pressed against his chest, the rough texture of the lace in his hand, the silk beneath his fingers at Ai’s waist, and the eyes around them that lingered too long. He ought to have expected that. The past few years, he had certainly been spoken of as one of the more mysterious eligible noblemen, and it wasn’t common for him to dance. To be hand in hand with a newcomer to the city, especially one who was so beautiful, it was bound to attract attention. Surely, there would be several hastily written opinion pieces in the morning that he would need to ignore. However, in this moment, he didn’t mind the looks pointed their way. If those around them noticed him enjoying a dance with a beautiful stranger, he could accept that.
As the music wound to a close, Ai looked up, pulling away. “Thank you for the dance. That was… quite nice.” The faintest smile was on his lips. “I didn’t expect that dancing would feel so pleasant.”
“Is it your first of the season?” Camus asked. At Ai’s nod, he smiled. “It was mine as well. It was very nice. Would you care for another?” Three dances in a single evening would be more than what was appropriate for a couple not properly courting, but he could get away with two. He desperately wanted to have two. He offered a hand, and a smile.
Ai’s hand landed in his, and Camus took a breath to steady his heart while he positioned himself behind Ai as the music began. “Have you ever danced a Varsouvienne?” It was a particular favorite of Reiji’s, and something Camus had avoided dancing, finding it rather too cheerful and verging on silly.
“I haven’t.” Ai looked up to him, his face so close to Camus’s.
“Just follow my lead, then. You’ll do wonderfully, I’m sure. Step and glide in time with me. You can look back to me, but keep an eye in the direction we’re moving.” It had been a long time since Camus attended dance lessons, and he was certain he was not all too helpful in instruction himself, but as he stepped to the side, Ai followed in time, as practiced as if he had known the steps all his life. “Excellent.”
Perhaps Camus imagined the soft pink that washed over Ai’s cheeks, as it was only there for a moment, but it made him feel as though he were melting. “You’re easy to follow.” That delicate grin on his lips was beautiful. In that moment, Camus understood those dance partners who broke decorum and propriety, stealing a moment of lips pressed against lips in the midst of a dance, when they were certain no one was looking. It was a fleeting thought, one quickly replaced by the knowledge that there were eyes upon them and he barely knew the man he held in his arms, but it crossed his mind nonetheless. It wasn’t a proud thought, and he hoped it was not obvious.
As they moved across the room, following the path of the other dancers, Camus looked ahead, gaze landing on the pergola he had been watching from less than half an hour ago. A pair of warm brown eyes had latched onto him, and he couldn’t ignore the massive grin he knew was aimed at him. He was certain that Reiji would hold this against him for years to come-- the one night he had been convinced to join the fray and found himself enjoying the company of a stranger. Still, he supposed seeing the joy on the man’s face as he watched from afar, leaning into his husband’s side, was nice. With the difficult times they had spent together in their younger years, he was grateful to see a real smile on his face, even if it meant being teased relentlessly.
“Why are the kings watching us?” Ah, so he was observant.
“Mm, His Majesty has been trying to get me on the dancefloor the past two seasons. I believe he feels as if he’s won something tonight.” Camus laughed, and he swore that he saw a spark in Ai’s eyes when he did, that the man’s grasp on his hands grew ever so slightly tighter.
“Do you feel as if you’ve won something?”
It wasn’t a question Camus was prepared to answer, especially as he spun Ai in his hands and pulled him in closer to face him properly, his hand finding the small of his back as he guided him across the floor. He wasn’t sure he could find the correct words when he was looking into those bright eyes. “I don’t believe a man’s hand or his dance is something one can win. But I do feel as though I’ve found something immaculate, and there is a joy in that.” It was a terrible line, but Ai smiled despite it.
“I’ve had fun tonight,” he said, allowing himself to be pulled ever so slightly nearer, just before the music came to a godforsaken end. Three dances would be too many, and this would already be the talk of the town come morning.
Camus nodded as he parted from the man, immediately wishing that gloved hand was still in his own. When was the last time he had ached to dance like this? When was the last time he had longed for a gentle touch? “I enjoyed myself as well. Tell me, will you be at Hijirikawa’s dance the night after tomorrow?” He offered his elbow, grateful that Ai took it delicately in his hand as they moved away from the floor.
“I will. Will you dance with me again then?” His head tilted again.
“If I may have the honor, I would love to.” Stepping out of the crowd, the air seemed lighter. The breeze could once again reach them, and Camus was grateful for the breathing room. They came to a pause, and he once again mourned the loss of the man’s touch. How could it be so comforting? How could such a simple gesture as holding a hand and moving side by side or chest to chest leave him hoping never to part?
“You may.”
It was all he could do to keep his grin from widening too far. “Then, until we meet again, Ai Mikaze.” He bowed low, and turned. Much more interaction on the night of meeting would have them spoken of in too scandalous a manner by all of high society. As much as he wished to follow him, to walk the gardens that sprawled throughout the palace grounds, to wander with him and be lost in conversation, to grow to know him, it would be best if both their reputations lasted through the night.
As he approached the pergola and the small gathered group there, he spared just one last glance, finding those sparkling eyes still glued to him. He hoped that the lingering gaze indicated Ai, too, longed for more.
“Myu, you danced so wonderfully!” Camus shouldn’t have been surprised when he felt arms being tossed around him, squeezing him far too tight, and yet he was nearly thrown off balance by the force with which the king barreled into him.
“Your Majesty.”
“Dear heart,” a low voice said, before strong arms pulled Reiji back, holding him tight to a broad chest. Ranmaru’s eyes were lidded with exhaustion as he held Reiji to him, but the look he gave the man was soft. It felt almost wrong to see it on his face, considering how pointed the glares he gave Camus always were. But it had always been that way with him and Reiji. From the first day, Camus had seen that hard exterior crumble in the presence of the king. “It’s a miracle he found someone who’d have him for so much of the evening, but don’t tackle him and break his back or we won’t be able to get him out there and out of our hair a second time.”
Reiji laughed, shaking his head before settling his gaze back on Camus. “My apologies. It’s late and I’ve had maybe one more drink than I needed. I’m tired, but tell me all about your dance over breakfast tomorrow, okay?”
“And tell me tonight,” another voice chimed in, another that was always far too bright and cheerful. Cecil Aijima smiled like the sun as he approached.
Camus sighed. There would be no escaping the pair of them, especially if they teamed up to demand answers. “Very well, Your Highness. If you’re so anxious to hear about half an hour of dancing, we ought to return home for the evening.” It had been hours since this thing started, and were it not for the buzzing in his veins as he recalled the feeling of Ai’s hand in his, he was certain he would be half asleep by now. Dawn and an early morning rise would be upon them all too soon.
“Fine, fine, we can go. Even though it is an hour early.” Aijima’s lack of hesitance to stay the whole night only proved to Camus that he truly did not have the arduous schedule that he himself needed to stick to.
Quick bows and parting words were exchanged before Camus led the prince out of the courtyard, toward the street that stretched out before the palace. Most nights, he would have insisted upon getting a coach ride home, but it was only a few short blocks to his townhome at the heart of the city. On such a pleasantly warm and windy evening, a walk to calm his nerves wouldn’t be so bad.
“I’ve never seen you dance before,” Aijima began. “Or smile like that.”
“It was just a dance,” Camus said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair as best as he could with the top portion done up. Strands had become loose, and he was certain he looked a mess. He felt a mess. “I know you do not know everything about my situation and I am not currently at liberty to speak too much on it, but I do not fall in love with every pretty stranger I find, unlike someone.”
Cecil’s bottom lip pursed. His pout was far too similar to Reiji’s. “But I’ve known you for long enough to know that there was something about him that struck you. I can tell when your heart is being pulled at.”
“It was different,” he conceded. There was no way to deny that. Ai didn’t rush to him as so many others had when seeking affections in exchange for a title or wealth. He didn’t demand attention, though he certainly had the presence to command it. It was entirely possible that the man had enjoyed the evening without an ulterior motive in mind. And it was entirely possible that he simply hadn’t shown his true intentions yet. Even as the thought crossed Camus’s mind as a reflex, something he’d had to consider so often upon pleasant interactions, it felt wrong. He didn’t know Ai well, certainly, but he had a good sense for people. Ai didn’t seem the type to deceive him.
“Then why not pour your heart into it and go after him?”
If things were different, Camus may have agreed in an instant. He may have thrown all his hesitance out the door and decided then and there that he would proceed with courting at once. But there were too many moving parts, too many factors outside of himself. There was Jinguji. The thought made something in his stomach drop. “I have obligations that I cannot neglect and a reputation to uphold. If it were up to me…” He took a breath as he retrieved a key from his pocket, inserting it into the door before them. “If it were up to me, with nothing else involved, I very well might.”
He held the door, allowing the prince to slip into the foyer before him. Though Camus would argue that Aijima staying with him during the season was a hassle, that it was something he had grown to dread each year, he had to admit (to himself, never aloud) that the carefree attitude the man held was refreshing in a way he couldn’t describe.
“I say figure out the rest quickly, then, so you can get busy falling in love.”
At that, Camus laughed. Maybe the prince was onto something. Maybe, if he could find a way to rearrange all the pieces of this puzzle, to make space for one shape, a shape with turquoise eyes and vibrant hair, with a delicate smile and soft disposition, to fit in beside him, maybe he could allow himself to fall.