Chapter Text
It's not that Hugo enjoyed snooping around
Or that he was too bored.
No, really.
(Lie)
But in a kingdom like Corona, with a palace of such dimensions, it was quite easy to start walking down a corridor and end up in a distant, remote room and fall into a storeroom full of curtains.
piles of rough fabrics with floral patterns and sea blue and periwinkle silks that had been scattered on the floor.
Hugo had no idea what they were doing with all those curtains.
Just a couple of meters of those fabrics could have fed an entire village.
He would have thought about that once.
Now, however, he found himself living in a huge palace he was not yet used to, which made him feel claustrophobic.
a palace with servants who, at a specific time of day, changed his linen and dusted the room, facing the grim stares of the ambassadors who saw him walking from time to time in the corridors.
Nevertheless, he had managed to find his... space.
And he owed it to Varian.
Varian.
With one foot tangled in a curtain ring and a purple veil suffocating him, he found himself smiling like an idiot at the thought of his boyfriend.
The young alchemist had slipped out of their room that morning to help the princess with the preparations for the fireworks.
This had caused no small amount of disappointment on Yong's part, as he wanted to be the one in charge of the fireworks display for the Crown Sun Festival, which was to be held in a couple of days.
But he was stuck in his hometown, and Varian had offered to fill in for him.
So that morning, instead of annoying Varian, he found himself with plenty of time and still a lot to explore.
After spending a good twenty minutes untangling himself from the colorful fabrics, he retraced his steps, following the path traced by the carpet on the floor.
The whole palace was dressing up for this year's celebrations.
He had to get used to this too, to the constant warmth of the music in the streets, the banners, the impromptu city dances, the scent of fresh flowers that tickled his nose, and the long inauguration speeches typical of such celebrations.
There weren't many traditions in Ingvarr, the only holiday was Sigrevet, and Hugo had never been able to celebrate it as tradition would have it.
The sound of strings broke his thoughts and made him turn towards the entrance to the throne room.
Golden garlands hung from the chandelier and stretched across different ends of the ceiling, vases were filled with yellow and purple flowers, and star-shaped paper decorations were placed next to them.
In the center of the room, a small stage had been set up where some musicians seemed to have just finished rehearsing.
Unaware of Hugo's presence, they put down their instruments and left through the opposite side of the hall, talking about something that, from that distance, Hugo understood to be “now-full-stomach.”
The hall remained silent, with sunlight streaming through the windows, perfectly illuminating the central stage.
A symphony of blue and green mingled through the stained glass windows.
The shades of light rested on the shiny wood of a violin left out of its case, which caught Hugo's attention.
The impulse rose through his fingers and reached his neck, tingling different corners of his mind that in the past would not have made him hesitate to do something that might have broken boundaries.
He glanced left and right down the corridor and then quietly entered the room.
The carpet beneath him muffled the sound of his footsteps, making him feel safer.
And this need for safety made him uncomfortable.
He wasn't used to walking on tiptoe.
Or rather, he wasn't used to doing it like this.
It was a feeling that wouldn't leave him.
A ghost whispering in his ear to be careful.
Because any action could be the one that got him kicked out of there.
Away from what he had never had, away from privilege, away from Varian.
The latter understood this, always giving him sweet looks, teasing him with words to bring out Hugo's cheeky side and make him feel comfortable.
Hugo loved him for that.
Varian tried harder than he should have to make Hugo feel at home, and Hugo tried not to burden his boyfriend, trying to settle in as quickly as possible during those months.
Hugo cautiously reached out his fingers to touch the shiny wood of the violin.
He placed his fingers on the neck and picked up the bow with his other hand.
The last time he had played was years ago, in his worn-out room in the building where he lived with Donella.
Once, she had sent him to steal some records from an orchestra conductor.
He hadn't asked why those records were so important.
He had slipped into the grand theater where a street kid like him would never have been allowed to enter, with its gilded boxes, stained glass windows, and frescoes on the walls surrounded by red velvet.
He had sneaked into the office with the sign “Mr. Duke” and rummaged through the drawers for a long time before finding the registers.
Then a security guard caught him in the act. He ransacked half the office and the stage in order to escape, ending up using a violin and its bow as a slingshot to hit the guard and run away.
And he found himself clutching a violin to his chest without realizing it.
Donnella didn't pay much attention to it.
He began to be intrigued by those strings and the melodious sound they could produce.
He also stole a bow afterwards and began to teach himself.
As soon as he had a free moment, between one job and another, he practiced scales and different melodies of varying degrees of difficulty.
Olivia was helpful in this, sneaking in to record concerts and bringing them back to Hugo so he could practice.
He came to consider himself fairly good.
And when Donnella was in a bad mood and Cyrus didn't want to hear him strumming, he would climb the old clock tower and practice, sliding the bow across the strings, sometimes letting himself be guided by instinct, under the light of Ingvarr's misty sunsets.
he breathe in as those memories resurface, and rest my cheek on the chin rest.
he raised the bow and slid it across the strings in a single sad note.
Muscle memory began to resurface like ripples on the water of a lake during a storm.
He gently plucked the strings, creating a slow and curious succession of notes, which was then replaced by a melancholic symphony.
The kind of melancholy that leaves you lying in bed asking yourself a thousand unanswered questions.
My arm moved on its own, awakening a new symphony from the previous one. The melancholy became awareness, sweet and fresh notes, full, like a run on the grass towards the light.
And then raw despair, the music raises its tone to find relief in that feeling, resonating on itself, repeating the same pattern of notes before reaching its climax, creating a new symphony full of hope.
Hugo didn't realize he had closed his eyes, his body and mind moving on their own until he felt the keys of the piano that had been next to him a moment before moving.
In the fog of music, he had forgotten everything, even where he was.
He didn't believe he had missed playing so much.
At the piano, two blue eyes sparkled with curiosity and understanding.
Hugo continued to move the bow, guided by a force that he could only partially perceive at that moment, surprised to see Varian following him in the music.
Varian smiled at him, his fingers on the piano accompanying the notes of hope, pushing him towards a more lively melody, as interesting as a scientific discovery.
It was a small request.
Hugo smiled. Nodding slightly as the melody of the strings became lighter to make room for a new instrument.
Varian began with one note, then another and another, teasing Hugo into following him to a cheerful and mischievous crescendo.
Hugo attacked more heavily, as if he wanted to put a wall in front of the foaming wave of that melody to move forward with the rush created by the piano notes.
Varian gave him an amused look and let him do it, resuming the same motif used previously, only more marked, then slowly pressing forward again in that cheerful melody that challenged the strings to follow him.
Hugo licked his lips with interest and caught a spark of challenge in Varian, hidden in his attentive but relaxed fingers, which moved as skillfully over the keys as they did in the laboratory, concealed behind the angle created between his eyebrows when he was concentrating.
And Hugo gladly accepted the proposal.
They exchanged small glances, in which they could grasp the direction the other's symphony would take.
Then, of course, the piano made way for the strings for a new bold bar, and the piano accompanied with amusement, following that melody, Hugo's unrestrained and sharp response forcing Varian to follow him more tenaciously into a new scale.
Until the melody became bouncy, a dance on fire that then left both instruments exhausted in a final G.
The two looked at each other.
Hugo feels sweat sticking his shirt to his back.
And Varian takes a deep breath.
But there is still that little sparkle in his eyes.
Hugo lowers his head, raising his bow slightly to prepare to start again, in a silent request.
And Varian smiles at him again.
One of those smiles that Hugo always sees when he is about to start a new project, a smile that always takes his breath away when it is directed at him.
They start again from where they left off, slowly, a decisive melody, without taking their eyes off each other.
Music that speaks of requests, stolen glances, escaped laughter.
It presses on, note after note, becoming once again a chase between the two instruments until it slips into a joyful rain of notes falling from above.
The music overwhelms the air until it reaches its peak in a snap of the last notes.
The echo of the last notes spreads softly through the room until the sound is completely absorbed by the walls, bringing silence back.
Hugo looks at Varian and is rather taken aback.
He must have an embarrassed smile on his face, or perhaps he is looking at him like a boiled fish.
If he was focused and attentive before, now Varian is biting his lips as if he were holding back laughter.
Hugo frowns. “What?”
Varian bursts out laughing before smiling excitedly. “That was magnificent.”
Hugo blinks several times before the words reach his mind and he can process them.
His stomach twists with an emotion that feels like butterflies, pride, and sickly sweetness.
He smirks instead of letting it show on his face.
“Of course it was, I was playing too, it couldn't have been anything else.”
Varian gives him an impatient look. “Oh, shut up.”
Turning toward him, Varian kicked him in the leg, and Hugo groaned in pain.
“Careful! I have a very delicate instrument in my hands,” he complained.
Varian rolled his eyes. “Where the heck did you learn to play like that?”
Hugo grimaced in surprise to hide the look of discomfort forming on his face.
“Googles, did you say ‘heck’?”
“Hugo,” Varian insisted.
Hugo realized it was better to speak now.
He didn't particularly like talking about his past, whatever part of his past it might be, it didn't make him feel bad, he just preferred to avoid the subject if he could.
The little that was worth telling had brought an expression to Varian's face that terrified and annoyed him at the same time, and in equal measure made him feel safe.
A mixture of sadness and understanding.
He still had to get used to vulnerability.
Definitely.
But there was no harm in satisfying a little curiosity.
Hugo gave in, putting the violin in its case and going to sit on the platform next to Varian.
Varian turned and the effervescent blue of his eyes pinned him to the spot.
“I taught myself. I had a violin, found by chance, and I practiced on it.”
Varian seemed to weigh every single word.
“You've been an incredible self-taught musician,” he replied.
Hugo smiled triumphantly, moving closer to his boyfriend's face.
“So I'm magnificent.” Varian snorted in response, his face red, and pushed Hugo's face away with one hand. “I'll never compliment you again.”
Hugo laughed, taking Varian's wrist and using it to pull him close, finding himself facing a sea of freckles against reddened skin.
“Nah, how could you resist me?”
“You're the one who insists on having me close to you now.”
“Because I want to help you follow your desires,” I murmured, pressing my lips against Varian's neck. Another wave of dizziness exploded, I blew on it, and Varian began to tremble slightly before bursting out laughing.
“Hug, NO, stop it, please.” The words died amid hysterical laughter as he tried to push Hugo away.
“What, I'm magnificent,” Hugo replied, grabbing both of Varian's wrists to block his attack. “Absolutely not,” Varian frowned, breathless from laughter, and Hugo was forced to attack him again, bringing his fingers against his hips to tease him.
“NO NO- please, OKAY yes yes ah—I give up please stop hahah.” Hugo chuckled at his boyfriend's wriggling and stopped in the face of that surrender, then saw Varian deflate against him to catch his breath.
“Where did you learn that?” he asked abruptly.
Varian barely looked up and ran a hand through his dark locks.
“We had a piano at the school I went to, they made us practice.”
Hugo nodded.
“We could play together in the future,” he suggested distractedly.
He liked the idea of sharing this with Varian.
Maybe he couldn't show him his whole past yet.
But one step at a time.
Varian smiled sweetly at him. “I'd like that.”