Work Text:
Nikandros and his soldiers had been serving at the borders in The Great Northern Forests for two years. Technically it wasn't his army anymore after Laurent stripped him of the Kyros of Ios title, but the men still treated Nikandros as their general. There was little need for orders, all mercenaries, robbers, and thugs had been taken care of, and Laurent had made sure that no soldier from Kempt dared to even look at Forests. Their days were similar to each other, rotations of dull patrols, training, and sleep. Winters were unbearably cold and summers too mild, nothing like the sunny weather of Delpha or Ios. Food was bland, and their housing was poorly done, it looked less like a place that housed guards and more like a cattle shed. The men missed their families and their homeland, but nobody complained. They had accepted their punishment.
A scout had warned them that a small army of Artesian soldiers was coming to the borders, no reason was given, only orders to gather the men at the Guards' house. Nikandros wondered if they were finally opening trade routes with Kempt again or if it was more serious. It wasn't that he wished for a war or a battle but he longed for some change in their routine, he could tell some of his men had become restless and some too resigned. What Nikandros was not expecting was the arrival of the king himself. Laurent, leading the arriving soldiers, was sitting on his horse as regal and forbidden as ever, his blond hair shining like gold and his pale skin a stark contrast with his black mourning clothes. Not even the dust of the roads had dared to touch him. Nikandros could feel his men tense behind him, and they stood silently as Laurent's army entered the small yard.
"You look horrible, Nikandros," Laurent greeted him with a steady, unreadable gaze as he jumped off his horse.
"Your Majesty," Nikandros bowed his head and kneeled on the hard stones, ignoring Laurent's attempts to test him.
Laurent made a hand gesture and the men around them left swiftly, one of them took the reigns of Laurent's horse. Nikandros didn't dare to look up.
"Rise," Laurent ordered, then more gently added: "Walk with me."
Nikandros had learned that there was no way of guessing Laurent's plans years ago when they first met at Ravenel and Damen turned out to be alive, so he just got up and followed.
"You truly look awful," Laurent said after a moment of silence. "No Akielon should look that pale. You must miss the summers of Ios, I imagine."
Laurent's words were like weapons, testing for a soft spot. He talked as if he wasn't the one who banished Nikandros to the most northern borders of Artes, and as if Ios hadn't been taken away from him by Laurent's orders. Nikandros didn't reply.
"I liked you better when you defied me," Laurent sighed, slowing down, so Nikandros would walk right next to him. This close Nikandros could see that grief had not been kind to Laurent; there were lines around his eyes and mouth, he looked much older. His eyes were hollow.
"That would be treason, Your Majesty," Nikandros replied when the silence grew too uncomfortable. Laurent frowned as if Nikandros had said something offensive.
"Have I broken your spirit then?" Laurent ought to have sounded happier with the result, Nikandros thought. Instead, he kept scowling. "Or was it the death of your king?"
Nikandros inhaled sharply. If he hadn't made a promise to Damen to protect Laurent with his life, he would have hit him, treason or not. He relaxed the hand that had curled into a fist.
"I'd deserve that," Laurent, of course, had noticed.
"I broke one promise to protect a king," Nikandros replied, watching Laurent's face stiffen. "I am not breaking the other."
"You didn't break it," Laurent whispered, voice breaking, and Nikandros could feel his stomach turn in horror as Laurent's eyes got wet. "It wasn't your fault that he died."
Nikandros stared speechless as Laurent lifted up one hand, the one that still had a golden cuff around it, and wiped away tears. He remembered vividly Laurent saying the exact opposite words when Damen died, remembered the venom and anger in Laurent's voice, remembered the guilt that some days still threatened to drown him. It was his fault. He had failed to protect Damen.
"You remind me of him so much," Laurent kept talking, regaining some of his composure, "He would die... died for his people in a heartbeat. You would die for him as well."
Nikandros nodded. He would have, if he had been just a little bit faster, a little bit quicker, he would have taken the sword that killed Damen. But he was too slow, too late.
"I am going to Ios," Laurent said. "There has been some unrest there, I have stayed in Arles for far too long. Come with me, you and your men."
"I... Your Majesty-"
"I have been told I am not good at apologies," Laurent sighed, there was something almost like a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I need someone I can trust and someone that has interests of our people in their heart."
Nikandros bowed his head, his head that was spinning, trying to figure out what had just happened. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
"Call me Laurent," Laurent said and this time actually smiled, pleased with the reaction that his words had gotten. "Close your mouth, let's go."