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“What if I don’t want to be a prince anymore?” Kaeya drawls.
A ring of golden keys spins lazily around his finger while he’s stretched out on a lounge chair. “What if I don’t want to get married?”
“It’s part of your duty, my prince.”
Kaeya turns towards the door, where his loyal knight is standing watch. He’s dressed in colors of black and dark blue, which present a stark contrast to his blonde hair that falls in messy strands to his forehead. His eyes, the shade of falling stars, are always careful not to reveal too much.
“Since when do you care about my duties, Dain?” Kaeya stands and walks towards him, spinning the key once more before he tucks it back into his pocket.
“You’re upset about your father,” his knight answers. “Is there anything I can do to distract you?”
Kaeya offers him a taunting smile and pretends to think about it. He could ask for a kiss or an afternoon curled up in bed – it’s not like they hadn’t done this before – but today, his frustration lingers elsewhere.
He is upset. About his father, his birthright, and that silly crown that makes him look like a fool.
All he wants to do is free himself from this predestined life. He’s a fraud at best. His heart belongs out at sea, with the wind and the ever-changing landscape of a new existence far away.
Although he cares deeply about his family, about his home and his kingdom, he can’t picture himself as a ruler.
His eyes find the ones across from him; they are watching him with utter calm and devotion. Kaeya’s heart squeezes at the sight. It reminds him of another thing he can never have.
Falling stars. Silly wishes.
His knight. His very own secret.
“There’s something you can do,” Kaeya says as he steps closer. “Spar with me.”
✧
Dainsleif’s practice sword lands on the earth beneath them and Kaeya lets out a triumphant laugh. “Third time in a row! Are you sure you’re not just taking pity on me?”
The knight’s chest heaves and he brushes sweat from forehead, leaving streaks of dirt on his face. “You’ve improved.” A teasing smile crosses his lips. “I’m impressed.”
Kaeya toys with his sword; his eyes stay locked on Dainsleif as the knight picks up his weapon.
The prince’s heart feels like one of the fluffy white clouds above, pinched with sunlight and all the possibilities that linger among the summer breeze.
Then there’s Dainsleif’s shift in mood – out here in the forest, they have no history. They don’t have to pretend or hide any feelings. They can tease each other as much they want. They can be honest, if just for a few hours.
Kaeya knows that their secret won’t last. He knows he can never allow himself to fall in love with the Captain of the Royal Guard. He knows they won’t have a future. But for now, it’s all he has.
“What?” Dainsleif asks as he notices Kaeya’s stare, sword back in his hand.
Kaeya grins. “You look like a mess.”
“I’m sorry” – Dainsleif’s voice is teasing when he speaks again – “am I distracting you, Your Highness?”
“Perhaps.” Kaeya shrugs and adjusts his position. “I’ll still beat you again.”
Dainsleif’s eyes mirror the challenge. “Let’s see about that.”
The practice swords collide again and again, followed by swift movements and calculated attacks. For a moment, Kaeya wishes for steel between them.
The thought of a real fight takes hold of him, and the anticipation distracts him for a second.
It’s enough time for Dainsleif to gain the upper hand.
A confident smile unfolds on his lips – his gaze as untamed as the blonde hair that’s halfway tied to the back of his head – and his next hit hurls the prince’s sword to the ground, leaving him utterly defenseless, except for that cunning grin on his features.
He raises both hands to yield but doesn’t look disappointed about his loss at all. “You got me, Captain.”
Dainsleif raises a brow at him as he lowers his weapon. He approaches, still panting, ready to pick up the sword and challenge his prince for another round. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired?”
Kaeya chuckles and leans closer. “Perhaps you are distracting me.”
Dainsleif tenses at the words – a reaction he can’t seem to control whenever he’s close to Kaeya.
He pauses to look at him but before he can even turn his head, Kaeya trips him. The world suddenly tips over and he’s falling, back first, into the dirt.
Before he can find the composure to restore his balance, Kaeya is already on top of him, pinning him to the forest ground, two strong hands wrapped around Dainsleif’s wrists.
He curses and Kaeya laughs – unbound and brimming with delight.
“Or perhaps,” Kaeya teases, “I’m just a better swordsman than you. Accept it.”
“You’re a cheater,” Dainsleif protests, but ceases to struggle against the prince’s grip.
“There’s no fair play in sword fighting. You taught me that, actually.”
Kaeya’s eyes are alive and mischievous – one bluer than the sky above their heads and one as golden as the sun itself. His hair spills in a single braid over his shoulder, tracing the pretty lines of his collar bones and exposed skin where the top buttons of his shirt have come undone.
Like this – wild and untethered, part of summer and sky and forest – Dainsleif realizes that Kaeya can never be anything else but a prince; that his father’s crown is meant for him; that the kingdom needs someone like him.
One of Kaeya’s hands lets go of Dainsleif’s wrist to brush along his cheek. Dainsleif shivers slightly at the touch and Kaeya’s smile widens.
“What are you going to do now?” His voice is too gentle, then. His fingers slide towards Dainsleif’s chin, lifting it with the softest touch.
For a second, Dainsleif contemplates defeat. His gaze falls to Kaeya’s mouth and although it would be easier to let him win, his pride takes the upper hand once more.
Kaeya’s hands cup Dainsleif’s face, releasing his wrists completely. Impatient, Dainsleif meets him halfway, dragging him down by his shirt.
The kiss that follows is harsh and messy, just like their countless fights in the depth of the forest.
Teeth clash as Kaeya presses his body further into him. He buries a hand in Dainsleif’s hair and chuckles at the sound it draws from his throat. His tongue brushes against Dainsleif’s parted lips, then against his tongue as his knight pulls him even closer.
Their desperation gains the upper hand for a few careless moments. They’re a bundle of need, all tangled and prideful. A little reckless, too.
Another secret added to forlorn truth.
But this is real.
Dainsleif returns to reason first. In the blink of an eye, he shifts and flips them both over so that Kaeya is now the one who’s pinned beneath him.
The prince’s eyes go wide, his mouth parts in surprise and his face is flushed and breathless. But the familiar smirk returns and the corners of his eyes crinkle in playful mockery.
“Never let your guard down, my prince” Dainsleif scolds him, raspy voice and heavy breaths. He’s too aware of Kaeya’s body so close to his own. “Not even with me.”
There’s a truth in that warning that tugs at his own heart.
He looks at Kaeya again and tries to ignore his swelling despair, tries to ignore the taunting desire that he holds for the one beneath him. The one he can never have.
The sensation flickers cruelly within him.
He wants nothing more than this moment. He wants to keep it and tuck it away, act selfish for once.
And there’s his secret – the one that confronts and torments him every time he lets himself slip in his prince’s presence: He wants Kaeya.
The thought alone strikes him as treason. And like many times before, he buries the feeling before it can swallow him whole.
With a sharp intake of breath, Dainsleif lets go. He sits up and runs a hand through his tangled hair. Kaeya follows his movements but instead of adjusting his clothes, he leans back on his hands and watches Dainsleif with an unreadable expression.
“Let’s run away together,” he says with his usual frivolity.
Dainsleif cannot look at him. Instead, he watches the trees on the other side of the clearing. “And who’s going to be king, then?”
“I’m sure my father will find a suitable replacement.”
Dainsleif’s chest squeezes at the thought alone but he can’t let his own feelings risk the kingdom’s whole future.
He stands and offers Kaeya a hand. “Khaenri’ah needs you.”
Something fractures in the prince’s eyes and disappointment twists on his lips. The sky pales and Dainsleif feels a sting of guilt at being the cause of that change in demeanour.
“But I want to be with you.” Kaeya accepts his hand and finally brushes the dirt from his clothes. He doesn’t, however, attempt to close the buttons on his shirt that have come undone earlier.
Dainsleif’s smile is wistful as he gazes upon their linked hands. “You know that’s not an option.”
Kaeya is silent for a moment, then he interlaces his fingers with Dainsleif’s. The fragments of his disappointment have vanished, and his smile returns. “Promise me to find me in the next life, then?” His voice is teasing once more but his eyes search for honesty and confirmation.
Dainsleif returns the smile, allowing himself to fall for just a moment. Into the sea and the sky – secrets made of salt and clouds.
“I promise I will find you in every life, my prince.” His voice is soft and a little fragile.
But once he picks up the practice swords from the ground and hands one to Kaeya, his resolve has returned.
In this life, he has already accepted his fate.
In this life, the only thing he can do about love is to bury it.