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This is how it starts. With Eliott being caught. So sure that he had timed everything just right so no one would bear witness to a thief stealing his way into the king's chambers under the cover of the night. He miscalculated and cursed the fact that he didn’t have all the information like he thought.
Silent on cloth-covered feet, Eliott allows his eyes to adjust. Steadies his breath as he looks around the room. It drips with wealth. Silk drapery and sheer fabrics hanging from every corner and down from the ceiling, pooling on the floor in excess. It was beautiful, almost ethereal, with the warm and exuberant colors that shine under the dim lights filtering in from the open balcony— a poor choice in structure when there are people who can climb walls. People like Eliott.
He moves deeper into the room, eyes already honed in on the target. He takes a step towards a deep chest on the ground at the base of the bed. A chest inlaid with beautiful opalescent garnish and thinks,
“Perfect.”
“ What are you doing?” A voice answers him unexpectedly. It slices its way through the silence in the room.
Eliott pauses, body going still and form tense as he straightens, eyes on the form hidden on the bed that he jad missed earlier. Eliott curses in his head at his mishap.
The bed is large, larger than any he has seen before. He can barely make out the body if a man through the sheer drapes that are meant to provide privacy.
Yet.
When Eliott narrows his eyes, tilts his head, he catches slivers of pale skin. He takes a step closer.
No one was supposed to be here. He timed it.
Yet.
A delicate hand pushes back the sheer fabric and Eliott is greeted by a frown and calculated eyes. Eyes that are blue. So blue. Gleaming like the gems he came to steal.
He thinks, feet sliding on the floor— he could make a run for it. He could pull the dagger from his boots and slit this man's throat before he screams for help.
"Third compartment to the left. That's where he keeps all the fancy jewelry."
It's methodical. His answer. Like he is detached from the entire ordeal and could not be bothered to care. It is an answer for a thief.
Eliott frowns.
"Why are you helping me—?" His voice is loud in the room.
Thin shoulders shrug. "Lucas," he introduces in lieu of an answer right away.. "And what does it matter if I help? You get what you want, and that bastard gets what he deserves."
There is disgust and a level of underlying rage that Eliott picks up in his voice. He can hear the hatred in Lucas' words as he speaks them. Like that hatred runs bone deep. Then something clicks.
Beautiful face. Pointed chin, sharp nose, and bowed lips—a body thrumming with hate lying in the king's bed. Betraying him without batting an eye.
Eliott smiles.
"A caged bird."
Lucas scoffs, the small grin on his face echoes with a hollowness. He shifts, moves slowly, on what appears to be a very soft bed. It sinks under his weight.
"Calling your king a bird fucker are you?" the bitterness increases. A bare foot touches the ground and Eliott locks his eyes on the thick iron band that wraps around a thin ankle. A short chain connects him to the post of the bed.
Even in the darkness Eliott makes out the skin and how its rubbed raw, red.
"Caged birds at least have some space to fly." To flit about in desperate attempts to be free. Eliott stands there with a stone in his chest.
Is it pity, he feels? Sympathy? Unsure, but Eliott carries it regardless.
Lucas pulls at the chain with a move of his leg. It rattles but there's barely any give. No room to move around in this gilded cage of his.
He feels that tug again. In his chest.
"Why should I trust you? And what happens to you when I leave with his jewels?"
What will Eliott be leaving behind?
Lucas tugs his legs again, the sound of clinking chains ring out like an anthem.
"Couldn't stop you even if I wanted to—which I don't— and helping you… lets say it brings me a little peace." That little smile is back on his face and Eliott takes his words for what it is. He moves quickly when he thinks about all the time that has already been wasted. A ploy?
Perhaps not.
He fills his sack just enough. Necklaces of pearls, rubies, and amethyst. More gold than one man would ever need in a lifetime. Eliott fights back the nausea just feeling the weight of it in his hands. Not even half of. Not even a quarter.
He heaves a silent sigh and makes a move to leave, thinking it best to ignore Lucas. To pretend he hadn’t seen the king's private treasure. He fails at trying to bury the disgust he feels for himself so ELiott turns back around just as Lucas calls out,
“ Wait. ”
They both pause. Eliott watches the way Lucas looks confident while still seated on the bed. He cocks a brow, waiting.
“You should gag me.”
Something shows on his face because Lucas smiles, rolls his eyes like he’s almost fond of him. Eliott couldn’t say something wasn’t blossoming inside him as well for the brunette.
“It’ll make it look more… believable.”
A truth they both know would hold if Lucas is questioned. It doesn’t stand that Lucas wouldn’t be punished regardless.
Eliott approaches the bed, already making quick work on the sleeve of his shirt. The fabric rips easily to reveal a tanned arm. When he’s close enough—when he towers over Lucas— he is able to see the blues of Lucas’ eyes so clearly. So clearly. Eliott thinks.
“I want to take you away.” Free him if he could. His eyes dart down to the chain and everything in him screams, risk it…risk it all. Up close, Lucas is all fragile and trapped. At the mercy of others. At the mercy of the king; the mercy of Eliott, a thief. He is frail with bags heavy from lack of sleep. His skin, translucent.
It’s a little more than saddening. It makes Eliott wonder when the last time Lucas had seen the sun. He eyes the chain and thinks he could do this. He could get him out.
And yet, at the first inclination of movement and sound just outside the room, Eliott is spurred on. He pulls down his mask and hears the hitch in Lucas' breathing. A tick, tick, tick , then Lucas is right as rain, pupils blown wide. Eliott stoops to eye level, pulse thrumming with panic and a sense of not enough time running through his mind. It's just not enough.
"I will get you out."
Lucas remains silent. Blue eyes roving over Eliott's face like he's trying to remember it. Memorize it.
"You don't believe me." It's a statement, not a question. Lucas swallows thickly, but his voice is steady.
"You're not the first… a bit soft for a stone cold thief, don't you think?" Lucas asks the question but he phrases it more like a statement, on observation. There is a lilt in his throat.
Something in Eliott's chest quivers at that admission. He balls the fabric and as gentle as he can, pushes it into Lucas' mouth.
The brunette gags, throat convulsing and eyes immediately watering, clumping his lashes that flutter against the pressure. Eliott flips him, brings one knee to rest on the bed. It dips under their combined weight. He pulls at the drapes and finds satisfaction in the way it tears and falls around the both of them. Eliott fastens a strip across Lucas' mouth, keeping the gag in place.
The room is filled with Lucas's rapid breathing.
"Not the first one." Eliott leans in close, his body bent close until his voice licks at the shell of Lucas' ear. Eliott pulls Lucas' arms until they cross behind his back.
Frail, delicate— he ties Lucas up like a gift and leaves him there on the bed.
"I'm going to be the last, remember that, Lucas."
He looks at his handy work.
"Remember this, because I'll be back for you."
Eliott takes his bag of jewels and steps away. Blue eyes stare up at him, hard and determined. Like he's holding Eliott to his words.
And like that, he's gone.
It’s honestly a simple question.
“Who warms the bed of a king unmarried?”
Idriss doesn’t break eye contact as he pours ale into Eliott’s empty glass.
“You sure you want to be asking those kinds of questions around here?”
Eliott cocked a brow, his grin wide and sardonic.
“Where else would I ask these kinds of questions. Are you telling me you don’t know?”
“You watch that tongue of yours, give me a bad name and you can get your free ale elsewhere.” He plops the pitcher down and leans in close.
“They say he’s a prince or a noble, somewhere south of here— daddy dearest sold him off to the king for a pretty penny. That’s it. Nothing special.”
Eliott bites his lips. It’s not a hard decision to make.
He had to get Lucas out. No question about it. Eliott picks up his tankard and drinks it in rushed gulps, slamming it down on the counter-top. He waves a goodbye to his friend before making his way out of the crowded tavern.
He had places to be. Plans to be made. Princes to break out. There’s a first for everything. Especially for a thief.
This is how it ends. Eliott runs down the halls in a rush of adrenaline. A wide smile stretches his face and next to him Lucas runs just as fast, his steps uneven due to the open cut just above his ankle that was poorly wrapped with ripped fabric.
It's stained a pretty crimson.
"Left." Eliott whispers and they both move on command without hesitation. If he focuses, Eliott can almost hear the light taps of Lucas' toes and heels hitting the ground. The sound of it is a rhythm that Eliott’s heart syncs up too. Soft, beating, there.
“When we get down these stairs, go into the first room on your right— it’s going to be empty.”
And it is. They make it down in no time and without incident. It is late enough in the night that Eliott knows there wouldn’t be any guards patrolling the path he charted out when he decided to come back for Lucas.
Lucas breathes out a little sigh of relief. It’s just a huff of air, really, but it makes Eliott smile. He closes the door gently behind them. The room is a little capsule set in time and undisturbed. An unused room. Eliott Every step is carefully placed and silent as Eliott looks down below to make sure everything is clear. He unlocks the windows, throwing them open and with a silent wave of his hand, Lucas is by his side.
“I’m going down first to make sure I didn’t miss anyone. I need you to pay attention and make sure you head down exactly as I do— do you understand?”
Lucas grins. His eyes were wide with a rush of energy. It’s clear he is working on a high; a happiness of not being locked up. He nods and Eliott shakes his head.
“Verbal responses, my little princeling Lallemant.”
Lucas starts to nod, when Eliott’s words register. “ How did—”
“No time to talk.”
Eliott hopes up on the sill with ease, a dismissal that he knows riles the brunette. Eliott grips at the thick vines that cling to the concrete. He makes it down about half way, Eliott feels one of the vines give away. He thinks, fuck , before he plants his feet firmly into the side of the structure and his fingers grasp desperately for a different section. The vines snap, one after the other, and Eliott barely has a moment to brace for impact, landing in the bushes below him.
He stares up at the sky, dazed, but blowing out a relieved breath that the fall wasn’t that far down. In the window, Lucas peeks his head out and stares at Eliott, mouth agape.
“Are you okay?” Lucas whispers harshly. Eliott smiles stupidly up at him.
He is consumed by fondness. A feeling he can’t explain but he knows it’s because of Lucas. Everytime he sees him, there’s a stutter, a flutter of sorts while his heart is busy tripping over itself.
“You’re going to have to jump,” He whispers back. “I’ll catch you!”
Lucas looks scandalized. His head disappears for a moment before popping back out.
“Are you crazy? I’m going to die.”
Die a free man, Eliott thinks. He weighs his thoughts before getting up and placing himself with his arms wide open.
“Remember when you told me I wasn’t the first? That you couldn’t believe me?” He tilts his head and smiles, because he’s here now. He came back like he said he would.
“I think I deserve a little trust now, don’t you agree?”
Eliott can see it, the moment Lucas makes his decision because he turns his head up to the sky like he’s praying to the gods, and when he looks down at Eliott, his arms move to heft himself up on that sill. Like a falling angel, Lucas launches himself towards the ground without any warning.
And Eliott is there to catch him. The impact sends them both sprawling. Pushes Eliott off his feet as his arms circle around Lucas’ smaller frame. His weight knocks the breath right out of him, and when they land, Eliott takes the brunt of it. He grunts out a sound of pain, but that pain only lasts for a moment before it’s drowned out by the feeling , the weight of Lucas in his arms. In his lap. Their legs tangled.
He looks down at Lucas who still looks frazzled and in disbelief that he didn’t actually die on the way down. Lucas looks up at Eliott, those eyes so wide, Eliott can see the hues of blues that blend in his gaze. So bright even in the darkness. It’s breathtaking.
Then he laughs. And Eliott knows that he is done for. Thin arms throw themselves around his neck and before he can react, Lucas has pressed up tightly against Eliott and laid a kiss on Eliott’s lips.
It’s soft. It’s quick. And so, so timid. It makes Eliott’s mind go blank before he reacts and presses closer. Mouth closed, pressed together— Lucas is petal soft and Eliott can’t get enough. When Lucas pulls away, Eliott can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the way he chases after him. Leaning in, leaning closer.
He can’t get close enough.
“I think you deserve a little more than some trust.”
Spoken into the night, it’s soothing for Eliott to hear him speak with such confidence.
“You know, that’s not why I came back.”
Lucas cocks a brow. “If it was, I’m not complaining.” He pointedly gives Eliott a once over, which is difficult to do in their position, but. The message is clear and it has Eliott grinning from ear to ear.
“You don’t owe me anything.” Eliott tries again. But maybe this time, just so he can hear Lucas’ reassurance. They stand up from the ground, both wincing as their joints click together, soundly.
“Didn’t say I did.”
And that's enough for Eliott.
“Let’s get out of here.”