Archive of Our Own

Almon was a lovely country, and Yozak was pleased to see the peace the Maoh had brought expanding. It was admittedly flattering to be in the country ahead of even the Maoh, too, even if they had done it under false pretenses.

We should send Yozak, someone had said at the meeting. He's got the most experience blending in. 

But all of our intelligence indicates that they won’t warm up well to anyone single.  We’ll need to send someone with a partner. I still think Yozak’s the best choice, but he shouldn’t go alone.

"With who? I'm not even seeing anyone," Yozak had said.

Conrad had at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Well, yes. But—"

But.

So here Yozak was, gossiping with the wives, while his 'fiance' Gwendal talked politics with the men (who were, as they always were, just as gossipy as their wives, but less willing to admit it). The good thing about the ruse was it had given them plenty of chances to sneak off together and pretend to be engaged in intimate conversation.

The bad thing was that everyone assumed that their intimate conversations were...very intimate. Relationships between men were treated a bit differently in Almon than in Shin Mazoku, but the citizenry had proven itself remarkably open-minded.

"You'd best snatch that one up while you can," Livia said, while they waited for yet another interminably long meeting to end. "Do those Mazoku believe in long engagements?"

"Well, they're not long the way they see it," Yozak said. "They live a long time, though. Sometimes they lose track of things. The Maoh and his fiance have been engaged for...six or seven years, I think, but they were kids when it happened."

"Marry him while there's still color in your hair, love," Calpurnia said. "He won't look at you that way forever."

"He's got a hunger in him, that one," Livia said. "Once he gets started—" 

The other girls tittered.

Yozak had heard dozens of claims about Gwendal, some ludicrous, some true, most a bit of both, and thought he'd heard them all. Hungry was new. "You really think so?" he said. He'd tried to strike the balance between naive and not wholly innocent, but he was starting to lose track of his tone. 

"Oh, sweetheart," Calpurnia said. "If I'd ever had a man look at me the way he looks at you..."

A chorus of laughter.

Gwendal's not good at lying, he thought. He's never been good at lying. That's why it's always been my job.

"Oh, don't worry, love," Livia said. "I'm sure he'll be gentle. I don't think there's any worry that he'll take it just as slowly as you'd like."

That was a thought he shouldn't be having. Taking it slow with Gwendal. Gwendal's hair against his fingers. Gwendal's face near his, as near as it had been in all their whispers. As near as breath.

Livia looked delighted. "Oh, I’m sure he’ll accommodate you if you don’t want to go slow. You'll be all right."

"That’s enough teasing, ladies," one of the other women said merrily, and there was another general laugh. Yozak went back to his knitting. Thank goodness he'd thought to make Gwendal teach him, years ago. It had saved him a lot of trouble, giving him something to do with his hands and helping him keep his face neutral, even in times like these. 

Yuuri had asked him once what Gwendal was like to work for, and he hadn't really had much of an answer. Most of his life he'd worked for Gwendal. He hadn't much liked being a soldier, as skilled as he was with the sword. Too many bodies. Too many losses. This was better. He hadn't really thought about it much beyond that, until Yuuri came along and threw everyone off balance. Yuuri didn't like spying, much, but he had grown savvy enough to recognize that it was sometimes necessary. 

Still, it was Gwendal he took orders from, and when Yuuri and Gwendal were at odds he knew who he answered to. So did Gwendal.

The women had moved on to other topics of discussion. That was fine by Yozak. He had had more than enough being the center of attention. The Almonians enjoyed the novelty of having him there, but sometimes he felt a bit like he was on display.

He'd fallen in love with Conrad easily, all at once, without a second of hesitation or doubt. The doubts came later, when he had to step back for Conrad's love for Julia, when he'd watched Conrad journey to Earth. Falling out of love with Conrad...he wasn't even sure he had fallen out of love, as much as it was that they both had changed. Maybe he still loved him; it was just that the shape of the love had changed.

And what did he feel about Gwendal?

He'd dropped a stitch.

Gwendal had never been gifted enough to sustain the kind of lie that Yozak gambled his safety on day after day. But this was hardly a lie; it was just hiding certain information, and he was good enough at that. It was strange, how accustomed he'd become to giving nothing away, to keeping his face neutral at the best and worst of times. Anissina could always see through him, and he treasured her for that, but to almost everyone else at the castle he'd been frustratingly opaque for years. 

It hadn't been intentional, at least Gwendal didn't think it had been. He'd seen his parents cry out and yell and throw so many things so many times he'd wanted nothing to do with such nonsense, and he'd acted accordingly. Anissina had been his confidante, of course. Julia had been kind to him, and he’d been kind enough to her, he hoped, but he'd never let her in too close, though he'd been fond of her. She'd liked Yozak, Gwendal remembered. Almost everyone did. He had an ease about himself, a comfort in his own skin even in as hostile a climate as Blood Pledge Castle could be for someone with his parentage. He refused to apologize for who he was.

Gwendal, unapologetic in his own way, had always admired Yozak's strength. Yozak was, had always been, an admirable man.

Now that he was allowed, was encouraged to be affectionate toward him, he found it all spilling out. How easy it was, to put a hand on Yozak's waist, to let him lean close. To duck around a corner and feel Yozak's whisper against his cheek. To pretend to the hundred everyday intimacies that lovers shared. Gwendal found himself craving things he'd meant to leave behind a very long time ago.

His hosts had noticed.

"You're not planning on letting that engagement go on too long, are you?" Flavius asked, when they should have been discussing the current trade deal. "I know you Mazoku are long-lived, but neither of you are getting any younger, all the same."

"We are still discussing the date," he said. "We have not been engaged so long. Even by your measures." 

"If you'd like," Flavius said, "we could...well, my wife's grown quite fond of him. If it's a question of dowry, or anything of that sort—"

"No," Gwendal said hastily. "No, nothing of the sort."

"He told Livia he didn't have any living family," Flavius said, somewhat apologetically. "I was worried it might be—"

"No. Yozak has been a valued member of our court for a very long time. But my mother travels often, and it's difficult to arrange her schedule. She believes in a rather freer love, so—" He sighed, thinking of the things his mother would say if he actually did get engaged; half-delighted, half-discouraging. He didn't have to feign the look of despair on his face. 

"Ah. My mother-in-law can be like that. You're always working around her, and never the other way around." He paused, as if he'd gone too far. "Of course, it's not a burden, and I wouldn't mean to say—"

"It's fine," Gwendal said, in his most measured tones. "I do think we should discuss—"

"Of course," he said. "If you love each other, that's enough. I can see that."

"Of course," Gwendal echoed.

"The girls have a surprise for us tonight," Flavius continued. "They won't say what it is yet, but they've been giggling all week. A bit of a going-away present."

"That's quite unnecessary," Gwendal said. "But we appreciate your generosity, very much." It had been a good trip, all things considered, and far less hazardous than either he or Yozak had anticipated. Gwendal regretted, a bit, that they had chosen to deceive the Almonians. 

But he still had a kingdom to protect. The Maoh might have been more vulnerable if he had been the one to make the journey. Certainly, he thought wryly, Wolfram wouldn't have fit in as effortlessly at the court as Yozak had. No one could have done it as effortlessly as Yozak Gurrier.

"Well," Flavius said. "I suppose that's enough gossip for today. But you won't forget what I said. Don't let him get away."

"Never," Gwendal said, and that seemed to satisfy Flavius.

Close to a month of Almonian dinners, and Gwendal was still unused to their style of eating. He waited to lounge on a couch until the last possible second, and had half-convinced himself that the whole process was affecting his digestion. He stood and talked with his hosts as long as he possibly could, though he always knew he was just postponing the inevitable. 

There was a rustle of new conversation from one end of the hall, and Gwendal, like the others, turned his head to see what the fuss was about.

Gwendal would recognize Yozak's build anywhere, and among the wives, arranged as carefully as hothouse orchids, he was a brilliant wildflower, taller than most and more muscular than almost anyone in the room. He looked more Almonian than he ever had before, though; he'd abandoned his usual dress for a soft, flowing tunic and skirt that bared his muscular arms and made him look effortlessly graceful. Even when Yozak stood out, he had the art of blending in, Gwendal thought with admiration. He could see that they'd pinned Yozak's hair up in an elaborate Almonian style. That suited him, as well.

Gwendal was staring as Yozak approached him, and he realized they were lucky that they'd chosen to pose as lovers. He had already looked for too long.

He extended his hand, and Yozak reached out to take it in his own. "Let's see if we can sneak away for a moment," Yozak said. "I've missed you."

"Every eye is on you," Gwendal said.

Yozak smiled gently. "Well, let's see if they'll allow us a little privacy, then."

They managed to escape out to the courtyard, and they walked together toward the gardens. They were hardly the only couples milling around, and they managed to escape most of the attention as they got further from the building. They sat, side by side, near the central fountain, Yozak so close his brass bracelets brushed against Gwendal's coat.  "They promised me there would be dancing this evening."

"I certainly hope you're not expecting me to—"

"They might expect us to." His hand brushed against Gwendal's. "Darling."

Gwendal tried to ignore the pleasure the touch gave him. "Will they let you keep your new clothes?"

"They're trying to give me a dowry. I think I'll get to keep the clothes."

"I'll see if I can reimburse them."

"That'd be kind of you. They're lovely people."

"It's a relief," Gwendal said.

"There's still a faction that's not...overjoyed to have us here. But I think we've won them over."

"You've done more than I," Gwendal said. "They adore you."

Yozak tilted his head, and Gwendal could hear the smile when he spoke. "His Majesty probably did the most work, but he's not here, so let's take the credit, eh?" He looked down at his wine glass. "I'm tired of knitting and sewing," he said. "I keep telling them you're better at it than I, but I don't think they'd believe me. Though Philomena did say she thought you had a wonderful eye for detail." 

There was something about the way Yozak said it that made Gwendal suspect it was halfway to a double-entendre. He decided to change the subject. "The last of the agreements will be signed in the morning," he said. "Ahead of schedule. We could go home early, but I think they might find that insulting. Flavius offered to take us to his villa, and I told him I'd discuss it with you. We'd leave the rest of the delegation here. It might be a bit more...intimate, for good or ill." 

"Do you mean I might be able do more than sit and knit all day long?"

"I suspect so, yes."

"Well, I wouldn't complain about that. I wouldn't complain about seeing more of this country, either. It’s a shame we couldn’t work with them before now."

"Well, our relationship with Big Shimaron was always too fraught." There was no way to get to Almon without crossing their trade routes. "You know that."

"It's not like we didn't try to bully our way around Big Shimaron before."

Yozak had a point there. "I'll tell Flavius we’ll accept his invitation?"

Yozak nodded. "I wonder if we should pack to leave from there," he said, thoughtfully. "I'll ask Calpurnia what she thinks."

We should go back in, Gwendal thought. The men made enough jokes about the wedding night they anticipated for Gwendal without any further encouragement. He must have a big, healthy appetite had come up more than once.

But he stayed, Yozak's bare arm against his jacket. "You're not cold?"

"No," Yozak said. "It's nice out here. Don't you think so?"

"I suppose."

"I like watching the stars as they come out."

Gwendal wondered what Yozak would do if he took his hand.

That was when one of the barefoot young men who hung around the palace came running to tell them the meal was served. Gwendal was relieved, mostly.

It was hours before the food was finished. Gwendal watched Yozak, bright and happy on his side of the room, telling jokes to the wives and maidens. The bracelets on his arms shimmered with his every move. Gwendal made a mental note to offer to pay for them, as well.

"It's almost the end of your stay here, and we want to wish you safe travels," Flavius said. “I hope you’re up for a little dancing.”

For a moment, Gwendal was afraid Yozak had been right, but dancing ended up being a demonstration of the art, with a half-dozen athletic dancers who kept the entire company entertained.

"Too bad," Yozak murmured. He'd taken advantage of the rearranged dining hall to sneak closer to Gwendal. "I would have liked to dance."

"I'm sure you'll find another opportunity soon enough," Gwendal said.

"This is why the Maoh should hurry up and get married."

A cold and horrible fear gripped the back of Gwendal's neck. "I'm not sure I would go quite that far."

The villa was as pleasant and light-filled as promised. True to Yozak's prediction, their hosts not only let him keep the clothes from his last night at the palace, they supplied both he and Gwendal with simpler dress for the countryside. Yozak looked comfortable, like he'd been raised in a Almonian villa. Gwendal felt half-naked, and vulnerable besides. Eventually he’d persuaded them that keeping his sword at his side was essential to Mazoku culture, or perhaps Yozak had just managed to persuade them that he was hopelessly eccentric. His sword and belt felt unnecessarily heavy and bulky without the padding his coat provided, but he still felt better with it on. Even if Livia had teased Yozak about having to prevent Gwendal from wearing it to bed.

There was little to do at the villa but eat, drink and talk. Gwendal found himself missing his sewing, and even his paperwork at times. 

"Only a week," Yozak said to him, after yet another elaborate, multi-course afternoon meal.

"I have no complaints about their hospitality," Gwendal said archly.

"Of course." Yozak took his arm, steering him along one of the villa's many walking paths. "But you're no better at sitting idle than I am. I'm half-tempted to ask them if they want a demonstration in swordsmanship."

"We're not adequately dressed for it."

"I'm sure we could manage something. They might have wooden practice swords. If they don’t, making them might keep us busy for a day."

"As eager as I am to impress them with your skills..."

"You're no fun," Yozak teased, leaning into him, and then caught himself. Gwendal could feel him stiffen. "I—sorry. Gettin' carried away with all of this."

Gwendal didn't move. "I'll be glad to be home," he said. "But—this is a good country. This has been a satisfactory—" He knew how he sounded. Awkward. Stiff. It was one of the reasons he'd made a terrible Regent. He'd been good at giving orders. Sending men to their deaths. He hadn't been good at telling them they were valued. At telling them—

"Gwendal?"

"How did you forgive me?" he asked.

"Forgive you what?"

"You know," he said. "You could have died. My brother—" It stuck in his throat.

"Oh," Yozak said. He started walking again, leading Gwendal along. To a stranger, they probably still looked like a couple. "I can't say I did it right away."

"No," Gwendal said.

"It helped, actually, that Conrad was there. Stupid, but—" He had steered Gwendal toward one of the fountains, one with a riot of colorful blooms at its center. "I knew you wouldn't kill your own brother if you could help it. Even if you'd hated him, you wouldn't have done that."

"I never hated him. Or you."

"I know," Yozak said. "I know that now. It took a while, that's all." He leaned over and plucked an oleander blossom from a nearby tree. "And then I learned...well. I knew the politics in the castle, and the country, a lot better. Knew what kind of choices you'd had to make. And I knew you better, too."

"I still—"

"I know," Yozak said.

"It was cowardice."

"We could have died in exile, without even the dignity of proving ourselves. We made our choices too. It was a rotten situation." He took the flower and fixed it in his hair. “Guess it’s why I supported Yuuri so fast. Maybe it's one of the reasons you did, too. He may be too young and too naive, but—maybe we needed that." He took a second flower. "Hold still," he said, letting go of Gwendal's arm and turning to face him.

Gwendal obeyed. 

Yozak tucked the blossom behind Gwendal's ear. "That's nice," he said. "They talk about how handsome you are here. More than at home. I think they're less intimidated."

"There are many handsome men at home," Gwendal said.

Yozak shrugged. "Maybe."

Gwendal hated himself for hesitating. Hated the fear that sat in his gut, next to his desires. 

He thought of Wolfram, and the way he shoved into every situation, the way he'd loudly declared his love before he'd even understood what it meant. And of Conrad, still mourning a ghost, unable to move forward after so many years. He'd always been the careful one. The responsible one. 

Yozak looked worried. "Gwendal—?"

"I'm not...expressive," he said. "You know that."

"Yeah," Yozak said, half a grin on his face. Gwendal’s put a hand on Yozak's shoulder, and Gwendal was painfully aware of how thin the fabric of his tunic was. I want it to be as easy as it has been here, Gwendal thought, which was an absurd thought. They'd lied to their hosts. They'd lied to each other.

Or maybe they hadn't lied, and that was what had made it easier. Maybe they'd been more honest than they had before, and that was what had made it all so simple. And so difficult now.

"May I—"

"Gwendal," Yozak interrupted. "You don't haveta to ask."

"You don't know what I'm asking."

"Answer's yes," Yozak said, and he leaned in so close that Gwendal could feel the ghost of his breath. "Now. Tell me the question."

Gwendal leaned forward, so his forehead touched Yozak's. 

Yozak pushed a tendril of hair back from Gwendal's face. "Tell me," he said. "Please?"

He cupped the back of Yozak's head. "I cannot promise—"

"Don't care about promises," Yozak said. He wasn't moving.  "Not right now."

I want this. I want more than this. Why were the words so impossible? 

Once, before his mother had married a second time, when he was what even humans would consider a young man, there had been someone. A possibility. Nothing had come of it, of course. Nothing had ever come of it. But he'd learned to kiss, and he hadn't forgotten. 

Yozak's lips were soft. He didn't kiss back, but he didn't step away. He just let Gwendal press his lips to Yozak's own, soft, reverent. Gwendal felt his heart pounding in his chest. 

Yozak's arms wound around his neck, lazy and elegant as a cat, as he pulled Yozak close, so close that he could feel the heat of Yozak's body through their thin clothes. He kissed Gwendal back this time, his mouth opening under Gwendal's, his hands grabbing at Gwendal's waist. 

Gwendal had liked kissing.

He'd forgotten how much he'd liked kissing. He'd forgotten how wonderful it was to be so close to someone, to have someone else's hands on his body.

But to have it be Yozak—

They'd always worked together well. They fit together well. Gwendal could feel Yozak's strength, even from something as simple as the hand on Gwendal's waist, and itt made his blood rise. 

There was a rustle from the garden. They broke the kiss. One of the cats that wandered the grounds leaped out, in hot pursuit of a butterfly.

"Gwendal," Yozak said. His hand still rested on Gwendal's waist. "We should—dinner."

"Dinner," Gwendal echoed.

"It's probably—we should check."

"Yes," Gwendal said, and stole another kiss.

Dinner was more casual at the villa. He still wasn't seated by Yozak, but the party was so small that everyone was close to one another. Yozak had a favored couch he sat at, lounged at really, his limbs long and loose. His hair, already less formal than the elaborate coiffures he'd had in the palace, had come undone a bit more when they were in the garden. He'd let it grow over the past month. Gwendal wanted to pull it loose, watch it come down around his shoulders.

Yozak caught his eye a few times, and quickly looked away. Gwendal wondered how much gossip they'd inspire by the end of the night. He could hardly taste his food, even knowing that it would be as exemplary as always. The men kept having to work for his attention. "I'm sorry," he apologized. 

"It's fine," Flavius said. "You're lucky indeed, von Voltaire."

"Yes." Gwendal said. 

"I'm surprised it took you so long to lapse," he said. "I've heard they're more free in your part of the world, and we're far less careful here than at court."

Gwendal found himself, for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, at a total loss for words. 

After dinner followed the entertainment, dancers and musicians. They cleared away the tables and sat in much the same positions they had at dinner, though Livia had made an excuse to sit nearer to her husband, bringing Gwendal and Yozak closer as a result. Gwendal had the disconcerting impression that he'd been found out. 

It would take so little to slide an arm around Yozak, pull him close again.

What were they going to do when they returned to Shin Mazoku? What did Yozak want?

Yozak's arm touched his, grounding. 

"Gwendal," he chided, gently. "You're thinkin’ too hard."

Gwendal opened his mouth to protest, but Yozak shook his head. 

"We don't have much time left here," he said. "Enjoy it."

Yozak had been more right than he realized; as the dancers were finishing he heard the sound of bony wings. Yozak looked at him. "I should—"

"No," Gwendal said, and rose. “Let me.” He could taste the watered wine in his mouth, but he knew it would fade fast. All of it would. He made excuses to his host and went out to the gardens, where the Kotsuhizoku was waiting with a message from Günter. Trouble on the Southern border. If your negotiations are over, your counsel would be valued.

Gwendal was composing the excuses in his mind before he even re-entered the villa.

Flauvius insisted that they stay one last night, so they would be well-rested, and promised to have the signed paperwork delivered in the morning so they could travel without interruption. 

The night was cloudless and the moon bright, and Gwendal couldn't sleep, his mind full of too many concerns. A shadow by his door brought him fully awake. He sat up abruptly.

Yozak held his finger to his lips for a second. "Everything's all right," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "They've come with the papers and the rest of our party, so we need to get moving. I asked to wake you while they got the horses ready."

Gwendal blinked the sleep from his eyes. He looked toward the window, and could see that the sky had already taken on the tinge of morning. "How long do we have?"

"'bout enough time for you to get dressed," he said, and it was too dark to see his expression when Gwendal pulled him closer. "Gwendal—"

"Gurrier," he said, not quite knowing what he was asking, and found Yozak's lips in the dark.

Yozak tensed a little, even as he kissed back. "We don't have time," he said. His hands had landed on Gwendal's shoulders, fisted in his pajama top. "I should—I'll check on 'em, make sure they don't need anything. You...need to get dressed." His hand passed over Gwendal's cheek, just a gentle brush, but enough to make Gwendal shiver. 

And then he was gone.

They rode quickly and in near-silence. If their guards noticed anything amiss, they didn't say anything. Gwendal kept his focus on the road. At least Sura was reliable. A horse didn't care about where you'd been or what games you'd been playing or who you'd last kissed. 

Why had they ever agreed to the charade? Why had Gwendal let himself fall into the illusion? 

He could still feel Yozak's fingers against his cheek. 

Yozak found him by the river after they'd made camp, letting Sura drink and cool her feet a little. "We've set up the watch," he said. "If we keep up this pace, we'll be back in the Kingdom by the end of the week. We could change out the horses at the border, make it a little easier on them."

"That's a good idea," he said. 

Yozak kneeled down by the water. "I miss those light tunics already. I think we should wear them in Shin Mazoku, see if we can start a trend. I bet we can get your mother to wear them."

"Don't even joke about that," Gwendal said in horror. 

Yozak laughed, but Gwendal heard the sadness below it. "It was nice, huh? Like a vacation."

"I don't want you—I meant it. What I said. What I did."

"I know," Yozak said. "But it ain't that easy, is it?"

Gwendal walked closer to Yozak, kneeled down next to him. He felt so awkward. "I've had to learn many things since the Maoh came. Perhaps I could try learning this, as well."

"I'll get old," he said, bluntly.

"Would you resent me, then?"

"Dunno," he said. "Didn't think—didn't think it'd ever come up."

"You chose to live with us."

"I know," he said. "I live too long for humans. Outlived most of the humans I knew a long time ago." He let his fingers trail in the water. "But you know that. You know—" He stopped, his voice hitching a little. 

Gwendal put his hand on Yozak's shoulder. It wasn't enough, but he didn't know what else he could do, what else he could give. 

"I spent a long time thinkin' there was no place for me," he said. "And it did take a while to forgive you. Not just you, all of it."

"You've always belonged with us," he said. "We were just too stubborn to see it."

Yozak reached up and put his hand over Gwendal's. "I guess if I'd wanted easy, I wouldn't have come to live in Shin Mazoku."

"Stay with me," Gwendal said. "When we return to the castle. I know the maids normally make you a room, but—stay with me." The thought of it was intoxicating. Yozak warm underneath him, his muscular arms against Gwendal's, his thighs—

This journey was too long already. 

"The whole castle'll gossip."

"In all likelihood."

"Your mother will—"

"She certainly will," Gwendal said. It was a horrible thought. But the thought of Yozak in his arms, in his bed, overrode the fear.

"It could be good," Yozak said. "Couldn't it?"

"I want it to be."

"Yeah," Yozak said, and there was heat there. 

The way he said it sent shivers down Gwendal's spine again. His coat felt heavier and hotter than it ever had.

"The boys have set up watch," Yozak said. "I told them I'd take the first one. I won't be able to sleep for a while, so..." He sighed. "I don't know. Was going to Almon the worst idea we ever had, or the best?"

"We have opened a new trade route for the kingdom. Our alliances will make us safer. And—" The words were always so difficult. "I...I won't regret the rest of it. I won't regret you."

"Careful," Yozak said. "You might be gettin' romantic."

"I have never been gifted with those skills. But it has never been a lack of feeling."

Yozak shook his head. "You are gettin' romantic."

They switched horses at the border; Sura would return to Blood Pledge Castle, but he'd be rested first, which Gwendal was glad of. Yozak cast him a look as they mounted again. They hadn't had a chance to speak since the riverbank. Gwendal felt like he’d woken every time the watch changed, and when Yozak came in and out of their shelter, he was aware of every movement, every huff of breath in the cool night air. Far too aware of the ways they could warm one another, were circumstances different.

It had been years since he'd wanted so much. Since he'd allowed himself to want much of at all. Now it burned under his skin, hot and urgent, at the most impossible times.

Seeing the castle again was a relief. He ached for a decent bath. 

Sangria asked Yozak, "Will we make up your usual room?"

He was too tired to even feel disappointed when Yozak said yes.

He sat through a briefing on the border. Things had settled, but the truce was uneasy. Yuuri suggested sending Yozak "in a day or two, after he's had some time to rest." It was a good plan of action. It hurt.

His bed was warm, and comfortable, and too big, and too empty. But he was fatigued enough to sleep.

The next time he woke, it was fully dark outside, and the castle had grown quiet. Quiet enough he could hear the breathing next to his bed.

Instinct almost had him grab his sword, but another, deeper instinct stayed his hand. "Gurrier," he said, his voice sounding rougher than he'd intended.

"Thought I'd at least last a day," Yozak said. He sounded disappointed. Gwendal wished he could see the man's face. "Man's gotta have his pride, you know. Otherwise...what else do you have?"

"Would it help if I asked you again?"

"I don't know," Yozak said. He moved in the dark, and Gwendal heard something drop to the floor. He wished he could see Yozak better, but he'd positioned himself against the light that spilled into Gwendal's room from the hall.

"Take your hair down," Yozak said. Not a command. More like a man voicing something he'd been afraid to say.

Gwendal reached for the tie holding his hair back—most of it had fallen out of its ponytail already—and shook it loose.

"You're beautiful," Yozak said. "More'n the day I met you."

"I  thought I was the one who was too romantic," Gwendal said.

"Yeah, well," Yozak said. Something else hit the floor. It sounded like it might have been a belt. Gwendal was torn between wanting to put the light on and fearing that doing anything so abrupt might break the spell. 

Yozak said after a long minute. "I've got a good life here. People I care about. Work I love. Seemed selfish to want much more than that." The bed shifted as Yozak perched at its edge.

"You must still miss your mother," Gwendal said, which was a foolish thing to say when someone was seated on your bed and ready to crawl in, but Gwendal needed to say it.

"All the time," Yozak said.

Gwendal shifted closer and pulled Yozak into his arms. How familiar it seemed, to have him so close. They'd hardly spent a month playacting as lovers, but it had scarcely taken a day before the intimacies felt comfortable. Yozak had taken his tunic off. His skin was warm. Gwendal closed his eyes.

"I think she would've liked you," Yozak said. "But she trusted the wrong men."

"You trust me?"

"'Course I trust you," Yozak said, and pressed a kiss into Gwendal's hair. "You're a terrible liar."

Gwendal slid a hand into his hair and kissed him. It wasn't the illicit thrill of a stolen kiss, but there was a thrill, something that started at the base of Gwendal's spine and spread over and through his body. Yozak cupped Gwendal's jaw for a moment before finding his hair, his shoulders, the nape of his neck, touching every spot that might be sensitive, caressing, warm, rough fingers. 

"Want you underneath me," Yozak said, his breath coming faster after they'd broken the kiss. 

Gwendal dropped down onto his back, pulling Yozak in place over him, Yozak's thighs hard muscle against his own.

"Don't be so quick to please me," Yozak said, but Gwendal caught the hunger in his voice.

"Do as you will," Gwendal said, and was answered by a moan that went through Yozak's whole body. The pleasure of it was intoxicating. Yozak was intoxicating, stronger than ale and sweeter than wine as he kissed Gwendal again and again. Gwendal put his hands on Yozak's back and went lower, and Yozak's entire wardrobe appeared to have fallen on the floor of Gwendal's bedroom. It was a feast, and Gwendal had starved for years.

"You can't talk like that," Yozak murmured into his ear. "You don't know what you're askin’ for."

Gwendal tipped his neck up to bare his throat. 

Yozak moaned again, and Gwendal felt his hands sliding under Gwendal's nightclothes, against his skin. Gwendal couldn't pull Yozak close enough. Couldn't stop wanting, even as Yozak was there in his arms. "The things I wanna do to you," Yozak said, low and hot. 

Gwendal wanted it all. Desire was running hot under his skin, neglected for too long, setting his nerves on fire.  "I told you," he said. "Do as you will."

Yozak did.

He woke with Yozak's arm around his chest, as casual as if they had always shared a bed. The night before had been awkward, when they'd finally settled to sleep; both of them had wanted to be the big spoon. In the end, Yozak had put his head on Gwendal's chest, and Gwendal had fallen asleep to his faint half-snores. Yozak had, in the end, gotten his way, but Gwendal couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. Their mutual exhaustion had no doubt helped them sleep, but there was a comfort being in Yozak's arms that he couldn't deny. 

Now the morning light was coming through the curtains. Someone was probably looking for Yozak right now. Let them. He knew he couldn't stop Yozak from leaving—things were too fraught, and he knew his duty—but he could at least linger in his arms a little longer. He had shared a bed so rarely; he'd forgotten the comfort of it, the easy pleasure. And every touch from Yozak was pleasure, indeed. He shifted, carefully, so he could stroke Yozak's hair.

"Might cut it," Yozak said sleepily, against his skin. "Never had it so long before. You seem to like it."

"I am not...surely you don't think I'm so shallow as to be concerned with the length of your hair."

"Something changed," he said. 

"You..." The truth caught in his throat.

"Me," Yozak said. "Let my hair grow a bit. Wore a different tunic. Doesn't seem like much. I'm not complainin', you know. Just—curious, I guess."

"I've never been particularly skilled at these things," Gwendal said. "Conrad is really the only one of my brothers who—"

"Please don't talk about him right now," Yozak said, a little strained.

"Mother said she wanted us all to love freely," he said. "We...were too reluctant to love at all, too often."

"I get that," Yozak said, quietly. "But you still—"

"You touched me," Gwendal said. "You called me—endearments." The fantasy had gotten under his skin, rattled in his mind. Darling. Beloved. Come closer. His lips had brushed Gwendal's cheek as they whispered to one another in the hallways. The lie felt closer to the truth every time they were alone together. 

"If I'd known that was all it would take, maybe I would've done it years ago," Yozak said.

That set him on fire anew, and he moved, shifted his weight, pinned Yozak down. "This time," he said, "I take what I want."

"Yes," Yozak said, and Gwendal lost himself again.

He was close to sleep when the maids finally came in seeking Yozak. Gwendal couldn't be bothered with their fussing, but he woke up to see Yozak off. "Come home safe and soon," he said, and was rewarded with Yozak's lips against his cheek.

Happiness was a strange, fragile thing. Gwendal had learned not to trust it over the years. It was too fleeting and too unreliable. But he couldn't escape it now. It was the only thing that kept him from snapping at the maids as they gossiped or Yuuri as he awkwardly tried to thread the needle between respecting Gwendal's privacy and trying to determine if congratulations were in order. 

Conrad was more direct. "He talked to me before he left," he said. "I wondered how that assignment was going to go."

Gwendal said nothing. There was a bruise on his inner thigh he was trying to ignore. 

"If you’re both happy, that’s what matters," Conrad continued, with that infuriating, ingratiating friendliness his father had always wielded like a weapon. "You both—”

"Conrad," Gwendal said, fixing him with his best glare.

"We’ve all been through a lot. That's all," Conrad said. "All right?"

Gwendal nodded. 

Wolfram was considerably more verbose, but eventually Gwendal was able to finish his duties in peace. The paperwork had mounted while he was gone, but it kept him busy.

He was beginning to think he'd gotten through the worst of it when Anissina cornered him just before lunch.

"She bring out the charts?" Wolfram asked, as he sat down, slightly rattled, to lunch.

He nodded.

"Yuuri couldn't sleep for a week after the charts," Wolfram said, and helped himself to a sandwich.

Yozak sent messages after the first day, the usual carefully coded reports about conditions on the field. Each day's missive had an additional word, he realized quickly, that when properly decoded started turning into a message. Miss - you - weather - not - as - nice - as - we - had - in - Almon.

By then it was closing on two weeks, and Gwendal couldn't find a way to send the reassurances that Yozak had given him. Instead, he gave the Kotsuhizoku delivering the messages a few things, trivialities, really. A scarf, as the weather had turned still colder since Yozak had left. A ribbon, just a silly thing, tied to adorn Yozak's scabbard, if he wished. 

He was halfway through a pair of fingerless gloves for the next message when Yozak himself reappeared, sitting in Gwendal's office with his feet on the desk. "It's as resolved as it's gonna be," Yozak said. "We've had to take in a handful of refugees, but they're good people. I think they'll settle in all right if it comes to that." He gave Gwendal a long, considering look up and down, and Gwendal resisted the urge to sink to his knees.

What he did instead was slap his hand flat against the desk, using his height to tower over Yozak. "There's no need to take liberties at my desk," he said.

Yozak smiled, lazy and catlike. "Well, that's too bad. I had a lot of ideas for liberties we could take." He leaned back a little, and Gwendal followed the line of his throat. "Sure you don't wanna try one?"

Gwendal considered for a moment, then locked the door.

Gwendal did his best to ignore the gossip, but having both Conrad and Yozak under the same roof turned things to a fever pitch. Gwendal would turn corners just to see maids and servants falling silent, and sometimes he felt their gazes hot on the back of his neck. He glared at them, but there was only so much one could do to stem the tide. He found himself half-hoping that Wolfram and the Maoh would have some kind of fight, just to give everyone something new to talk about.

"Are you going to fight Conrad?" Wolfram himself asked, appearing at his desk one morning.

"Why would I fight our brother?" Gwendal replied, without taking his eyes off his paperwork.

"Yozak." Wolfram never talked around an issue. Usually Gwendal admired his forthrightness, even if his diplomacy left something to be desired.

"Yozak makes his own decisions," Gwendal said. "He is neither a possession nor a prize to be won."

Wolfram sighed. "You should tell him, at least. How you feel about him."

Gwendal's pen stilled. "You should not presume what I feel."

"I know you," Wolfram said, crossing his arms over his chest. "At least get him flowers or something. Don't just let him go."

Gwendal frowned over his paperwork.

Unfortunately, Wolfram had grown up with the full complement of Gwendal's glowers, and had developed immunity. "Tell him," he repeated, and turned on his heel before Gwendal could respond.

Irritation was enough to fuel his work until close to noon, when he was interrupted again.

"Gwendal?"

He looked up. Yozak was leaning against the doorframe. "Yes?"

"I was talking with Conrad, and we were gonna get lunch," he said. "Maybe make a picnic out of it. Wanna come?"

No. "You'd want me to?"

"Course," Yozak said, as if the question was absurd. "Bet I can get the kitchen to make those little sandwiches you like. The ones with the crusts cut off."

"There'll be no need of that," Gwendal grumbled at his pen.

"But you'll come?"

Gwendal looked up again. 

Yozak looked...hopeful. "Come on," he said. "It'll be fun."

"I'll...probably be another half hour before I can take a break," he said, knowing it was a concession.

"I'll tell the Captain," Yozak said, with a grin. "You have time for a kiss?"

"I suppose I might," he said. Gwendal wanted, wanted too much, wanted more than he could possibly ask for. But he kissed Yozak just the same.

"By the Maoh, you're beautiful," Yozak said, as he left, and Gwendal felt his face heat like it had back in Almon.

Conrad was waiting for him outside the castle half an hour later. "Yozak says he'll bring the food. He's probably charmed the kitchen out of a bottle of wine by now." He looked between Gwendal and the door, hesitating. "The two of you—"

"I want to make him happy," Gwendal said. "I don't know—I don't know if that is in my power."

"You sell yourself short, brother," Conrad said. 

He loved you for so long, Gwendal said, feeling the words stick in his throat. I would fight you if I thought it would make a bit of difference in his eyes. But we both know it won't.

'He's a good man," Conrad said. "But you know that."

"Yes," Gwendal said. Shin Mazoku was filled with good men. 

There were few like Yozak.

Thankfully, Yozak kept them from any further awkwardness. "I've got wine," he said, as he approached, the bottle in one hand and a basket over his muscular arm. "You're ready?"

"Lead on," Conrad said. He and Yozak chatted idly as they walked over to the fields. There was a nice spot not far from the courtyard, and they settled in the grass. Gwendal let them talk. They had an easy intimacy. Gwendal tried to focus on unpacking the basket. The kitchen staff had put in a blanket, sandwiches, a small basket of fruit, a few plates wrapped in napkins. They'd even remembered the wine glasses, though they chipped and probably should have already been thrown out. 

"Corkscrew?" Yozak asked, digging into the basket. His arm brushed against Gwendal's. "They gave us everything else. Figured we'd just be passing the bottle...ah, there it is." He brought it up, smiling. "Wanna do the honors?"

"Go ahead," Gwendal said. 

"You're the boss," he said, lightly, and uncorked the wine.

"You should let it breathe," Conrad said. "It's a good bottle. Yuuri and I brought it from Earth."

"You say there's a difference, but I've never noticed," Yozak said. "You, Gwendal?"

Gwendal held out his glass. "I can't say I've noted any particular regional variation."

"Well, don’t blame me for your lack of taste," Conrad said, holding his own glass out. 

"We'll be fine," Yozak said. He'd settled close to Gwendal, almost leaning into him. It felt, for a second, like the intimacy they'd shared at the villa. Even after Yuuri's influence, Shin Mazoku was constrained by rules and customs, and their differences in power and position were painfully clear again. They'd only been able to face one another again as something near equals in bed, and those hours were too fleeting and too far apart. "Did you forget how much rotgut we used to drink?"

Conrad laughed, knowingly, and raised his glass. 

Gwendal tensed. "How long will you be staying?" he asked.

"Not sure," Conrad said. "Might be a while, this time. Earth's quiet, it's quiet here. What about you, Yozak? More missions ahead?"

"Well, that depends on what the Maoh wants, and what Lord von Voltaire asks." His hand landed on Gwendal's thigh. "Be happy to stay in place for a bit, you want to know the truth. Augurs all say it’s gonna be cold, come winter." 

"The Maoh has wanted to have the Almonians come for a diplomatic visit," he said. "They'd be disappointed if you weren't here to greet them." He risked putting his hand down to cover Yozak's. "Flavius keeps asking me if you're being treated well."

"He wanted you to keep me home, I think." He looked at Conrad. "The wives kept wantin' me to learn to keep a household, and I couldn't quite get them to understand how things worked around here. Maybe if they came here, it'd make more sense to them."

"They'll like Günter," Gwendal said.

"That they will," Yozak agreed. "They'll probably ask why we haven't married yet."

"We tried to explain that too," Gwendal said ruefully.

"Which means they'll probably ask the Maoh why he isn't married yet—"

Conrad laughed. "Now I'm starting to get it."

"Get what?" Gwendal asked.

"This," Conrad said, gesturing with his glass. "The two of you. It works."

"Oh," Gwendal said. 

Yozak squeezed his knee. "C'mon, let's start on these sandwiches, or I'll be too drunk to stand before dinner."

The sandwiches were particularly good—Gwendal suspected that Yozak’s request had improved their quality—and the wine wasn't overly potent, as long as they kept eating. Conrad made a few terrible jokes, but Gwendal had inured himself to those long ago. The afternoon passed quickly, and they might well have spent the rest of the day out there were it not for one of Günter's secretaries, jogging up to them in late midday. He'd clearly been instructed to chase them down. "My lords," he said, panting for breath. "Lady Cecile is asking for Lord Weller, and—"

"Of course," Conrad said, getting up. "Duty calls." He gave Yozak a hand up while Gwendal reassembled the basket.

"I can take this back," Yozak said. "Doubt anyone's looking for me." As he bent to take the basket, he pressed a kiss into Gwendal's hair; just a glancing, light thing, but welcome, still. "I'll stop by your office later," he said. "If you're buried in paperwork, I can dig you out."

"That would be...appreciated," Gwendal said. "Thank you."

"I've missed you," he said, easily. "Come on, Captain, I'll walk with you. Give the maids more to gossip about later."

Gwendal watched them go. The sun was shining. It had been a lovely day. They'd been right to go out for a bit. Gwendal tried to hold onto the touch, the kiss, the promise. 

He didn't have to be jealous. It was childish, and petty, and not at all rational. 

It burned all the way back to his desk.

Gwendal wasn't in his office when Yozak came to get him, which was concerning enough, but then he wasn't anywhere else to be found, either. 

Maybe the novelty of what they'd been doing had finally worn off. He wouldn't say he wouldn't miss it, but he'd been half-expecting the end, even back in Almon. They were too different, and there was too much history between them.  

Still, it was a rare privilege to have shared Gwendal's bed. More than he could have asked for.

His own room wasn’t empty.

Gwendal? 

"I thought you were coming to my office," Gwendal said, a little guiltily. "I thought I might—"

Yozak stepped into the room and let his eyes adjust to the candlelight.

Roses. He smelled roses. The room—not one of the castle's largest—was overwhelmed with them, at least a dozen bouquets, on the dresser and the wardrobe and scattered over the floor. Gwendal was standing near the bed, with more roses in a plastic bucket. "I would have finished," he said, apologetically.

"This is a lot of flowers." And candles. Were there petals on the bed?

"I thought of writing a poem," Gwendal said. "We all learned, when we were children. This seemed...more fitting, I suppose." His hands gestured, helplessly. 

"It's beautiful," Yozak said, to save Gwendal struggling further as much as anything. "But—" Why? What are you doing? What are we doing?

"Before Almon, I had...not thought of it, I suppose,” Gwendal said, into the silence. “We had our work. That was all. Enough." He stepped forward. One of the rose petals had caught in his cuff, and he picked it out, carefully. "I cannot pretend well. We both know as much. Once we began..."

Yozak couldn't hear anything beyond the roaring of blood in his ears for a second. He stepped forward and put a hand on Gwendal's shoulder, and felt Gwendal's tension ease. 

He hadn't been in love with Gwendal when they’d gone to Almon. He hadn't fallen. 

Yozak hadn't even known that Gwendal knew where his room in the castle was. Gwendal had filled his senses with roses. Gwendal had tried to write poetry. Yozak thought of the scarf in his bag, the ribbon he'd worn on his lapel.

But what he couldn't shake off was Gwendal in bed; Gwendal's hair falling through his hands, Gwendal's mouth on his, Gwendal's hunger. Gwendal's hands on his body. The rare moments he heard Gwendal laugh, when he felt a smile against his skin.  Kissing the inside of Gwendal's thigh. The warmth he could feel even now through the weight of Gwendal's jacket.

Love didn't last. Love didn't stay. Mom had taught him that. Conrad, too, in a different way, for a different reason.

Before Almon. How long before?

"I apologize," Gwendal said. "It is...overdramatic."

"Don't you dare apologize," Yozak said. The urge to pull Gwendal into his arms was so sharp it was almost physical.

Gwendal had dropped the rose he'd been holding at some point; Yozak hadn't noticed when. Now he stepped back from Yozak and turned to face him. He put his hands up and pulled the tie from his hair, shaking it loose. His hair was glorious, and he looked softer with it down. Vulnerable. More human, though he’d hate the term.

"That's cheating," Yozak said. Combat was less terrifying than this. Combat was easier.

"Wolfram told me to fight," he said, his voice unsteady. "I told him you were free to make your own choices. But—he was right that I should be honest with you."

Who would you even fight? Yozak wondered. He caught Gwendal's hands. "You're sure?"

What a stupid question, he thought, but Gwendal just nodded, gravely.

He stepped closer, cupped Gwendal's chin in his hand. He kissed Gwendal as sweetly as he could, but Gwendal grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him in, possessive, hot.

The world stopped.

There were things he knew about Gwendal. Things they knew about one another that no one else did, or ever would. He had always guessed that Gwendal—like his brothers—had learned to love from their mother, but had also learned from her complicated life to not give their hearts easily. 

Love from a man like Gwendal von Voltaire was not to be taken lightly. Even if it had taken him too damn long to realize the man had meant every word he'd said.

Yozak stretched, and what little blanket he'd managed to pull over himself slipped off. "We've missed dinner." 

"Hn," Gwendal muttered into the pillow.

Yozak was tempted to keep him in bed, but they’d get hungry after a while. "We could try the kitchen." Returning to Gwendal’s bigger, warmer, and rose-free bed after a meal sounded like an excellent plan. He sat up. Several things were sore that hadn't been two hours ago, and he was pretty sure he'd bruised Gwendal's thighs again. 

The motion woke up Gwendal a little more. He stirred. “I suppose we should.”

Yozak reached down and stroked his hair. "Do I even want to know how you got all these flowers?”

“Günter talked with the garden staff. They’re very fond of him.”

“Did he cry?”

He couldn’t see Gwendal’s face, but he could hear the smile. “I didn’t ask.”

“What do you want, Gwendal?”

“I thought I had finally made that clear.”

“Yeah, probably. Say it anyway.”

“Things are quiet. The winter will be cold. Stay with me for the winter. I will not ask more than that.”

“I’ll want to go back to work.”

“Of course.”

“I can’t promise—”

“Then don’t.”

Yozak closed his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, von Voltaire.”

“I’ve been told as much.” 

Oh, he liked hearing the pleasure in Gwendal’s voice entirely too much. “What should I call you, then? ‘My Lord’ will just give the maids more to talk about.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gwendal said softly. “My name will be fine.”

“Well. You know. You said those things about endearments.”

“It was not so much the words,” Gwendal said, after a pause that made Yozak wonder if he’d actually fallen asleep. “More the sentiment.”

“You old romantic,” Yozak said.

“Mmm,” Gwendal replied. “Perhaps.”