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Winters were cold, in Nohr.
Not the kind of cold from Laslow's childhood, the kind where the frozen air would make one's empty stomach and malnourished bones throb while all anyone could do was stay inside and hope the sound of fussing children would not bring a horde of Risen to their hard-won shelter and frost burrowed in even the thickest of blankets. But it was close. Close in the way that every inhale of chilled air brought in a new wave of emptiness, and one could only think of the helpless masses of civilians, hiding in their own cities under the gaze of a King that had not had any mercy left for a very long time. Close in the way that the fires in the hearth felt almost like a fake source of warmth, a petty candle in the face of the overwhelming chill. Close in the way that, if Laslow closed his eyes on the nights he had skipped dinner in favor of more important duties, he could mix the chill with his hungry belly and feel right at home.
The thoughts of the place he called home were comforting, in a way that soothed the scared young child that lived in the back of his mind, but also deeply depressing- for the exact same reason. So, he would spend most winters as busy as possible, to distract himself from the pain bubbling just beneath the surface.
There was shelving to be done. So much shelving. New supplies came in by the day, and they piled up by the storage sheds at an alarming rate. New weapons needed to be sorted and put away- before Odin got his hands on them and got it in his head to name the poor things. Informants needed to be interviewed and brought to the correct member of the royal family immediately, so that there as little delay in new information as possible. Armor needed to be made, stacked, sorted, polished... If it could be done to armor, their armor definitely needed it. Not to mention cooking meals for the army as a whole, taking care of the horses, following potential assassins and making sure there was no threat to the royal family, and harvesting the few winter crops they had.
(Prince Xander seemed to think he was doing nothing but flirting with women, but his liege thinking he was somewhat incompetent kept him safe. He had no interest in correcting the assumption.)
Laslow was in the process of putting the last of the daikon radishes in the outdoor pantry when he heard a knock on the wall behind him. He did not turn around, but slowed his movements to show that he was paying attention. He knew who it was anyway, so there was no reason to act surprised.
"My, my. Look at you, working hard," came the familiar drawl from behind him. Niles. Because it was always going to be Niles. "I'd have thought you'd be inside, warming yourself. The cold is even worse tonight, might be the hardest night this winter. Being outside is foolish, unless you're doing something incredibly important."
A question within a statement. An expression of worry within an observation. He recognized the actions immediately, having used those skills many times in his own work, and his own words towards Niles in the past. This wasn't just a "friendly chat". This was What's going on? Are you alright? I'm worried. Is there something I should know? This was I care about you, in that whisper-quiet way that kept the truth hidden under the rug, yet still laying in plain view to the people who knew how to look.
He couldn't help but smile- a soft, gentle, real smile this time, filled with fondness for the man who had kissed him in the quiet but ran from any labels like a mouse running from a particularly hungry cat. The man who would never accept the term lover, but would walk ten minutes out to the food storage sheds in the middle of the worst chill of the year to make sure Laslow was safe and okay. His silly, complicated, contradictory man.
Laslow turned around, then, smile still fighting to stay on his face. Niles saw his grin, and clearly tried to pretend his own flushed cheeks were just from the cold.
"Don't freeze yourself on my account, Niles," he assured. "I am simply making sure everything is taken care of properly before the snow truly hits us hard. We don't want to lose anything. Besides, I don't think the atmosphere in the tents is for me, tonight."
"What, peaceful? Everyone is quiet tonight." Niles scoffed, expecting some kind of rebuttal. None came.
Laslow let the silence marinate a moment as he busied his frozen hands with the next crate of vegetables. Niles watched his movements like a hawk. (Like an archer. Like a man trained to look for weaknesses. Like Niles.)
"You're trying to avoid something." Niles did not say those words with the slant of a friend asking a question, but the weight of a loved one who knew his own demons inside out, and had long since become familiar with the specters of regret and childhood fear. "Did I do something?"
(It was phrased like a joke. It sounded like a joke. Had it been anyone else, it likely would have been a joke.)
"Of course not!" Laslow assured, taking a step forward. He knew that it was a ploy to lure him out of the frozen shed and into somewhere warm and safe, but he let himself fall for it anyway. Behind that question, past the Prince's Retainer who manipulated and gathered information for a living, was a little boy who was scared everyone was going to leave him cold and alone. He could not -would not- allow that little boy, that scrap of Niles' past, marinate in fear.
"No, of course not," he reiterated, calmer this time. Softer. "I'm just keeping busy, that's all. It's better to be busy than warm, this kind of year."
If I stop working, then all I will think of is how it felt to be ten years old with the world on my shoulders, he didn't say. The frozen air tastes like the night I lost my mother, he didn't add. I still blame myself. I blame myself for her death every day, and no amount of changing the future will change that past. I blame myself for abandoning the timeline I lived in, and abandoning all the remaining survivors to wither and die. If I stop working, I will remember how many teenagers and children were lost to the Risen before I even came of age. I lost many good friends before I even truly lived. Every second of winter remind me of home, and home is killing me.
He didn't say those things. He didn't, in fact, say anything at all. He said nothing as the silence between them spilled out into a massive lake, bridged only by Niles' steady gaze upon him. He said nothing, marinated in his silence, in the words drowning him from within, until two stripes of warm suddenly pulled him from his reverie.
Niles' arms had wrapped around him, pulling Laslow into his chest and a hug that was comforting in a way he could not name. Niles smelled of candle smoke, of a mildewed dungeon no one else dared enter, of cinnamon chocolates that he spent his money on when no one would notice him getting something nice for himself. He smelled of a different kind of home, the one that was going to kill Laslow in a totally different way, the day he eventually had to leave. It took less push than it should have to let himself relax into the hold, and allow Niles' warmth to chase the biting cold away.
"Suffering is a bad look on you, Laslow," Niles murmured in his ear, breath warming his ear the same way the words warmed his heart. "You should not indulge in it so much."
My love of pain cannot extend to the people I love, Niles did not explain aloud. You are worth more than a vindictive pleasure over a past you cannot change. You are as haunted by your childhood as I am mine, and I am willing to hold you through it. I will stand with you, and neither of us will be alone.
He understood most of the message anyway.
"It has its benefits," Laslow said, barely more than a whisper, a fond, pleased tone wrapped around his words.
He didn't say, I'm glad you came to find me.
He didn't say, I missed you terribly and only realized when I saw you next and didn't have to miss you anymore.
He didn't say, My mother always said she loved my father because he listened even when she didn't have the words to say. She always thought true love was connecting with your lover where they are at, helping them when they want it, and watching them change on their own. I think this is the kind of true love she meant, the kind where we don't need the words.
He didn't say anything at all.
Niles understood most of the message anyway.