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The quarters they have in Arles are small. They don’t even have a bed. But there’s a small plot of dirt just outside the door, and Jord decides he’s going to grow a garden.
“It’s too cold,” Aimeric tells him. “There’s still frost. Nothing will grow.”
Jord is undeterred. “I’ll wait,” he says. “But you’ll see, when spring comes, there will be flowers, it’ll be beautiful.”
*****
The war was over. The Regent had been executed as a traitor, Aimeric’s father was to share the same fate. It was Jord who had ridden to Ravenel to deliver the news to Aimeric, who was still being held as a prisoner in the fortress. Jord looked pained as he spoke. Aimeric thought his reaction strange. After all, surely the news was worse for him than it was for Jord, yet Aimeric felt nothing at all. Just a strange, all-encompassing numbness.
“And what is to happen to me?” he asked. He was sitting at his desk with his head bowed, determinedly trying to avoid looking at Jord. He expected he already knew the answer to his question. There were few doubts when it came to a traitor’s fate. The only surprise was that it had taken Laurent so long to get to it. But then again, Laurent had had a kingdom to win.
“You will be stripped of your title,” Jord said. “You will not inherit, and you will not be able to return to Fontaine.”
Aimeric’s head jerked. “I’m not --” he started.
“I know it must be hard,” Jord cut in. “The idea of not seeing your family again.”
Aimeric stared in open disbelief at Jord. Aimeric had had months to contemplate exactly how Laurent was going to have him executed as a traitor. There had been precious little to distract Aimeric during his time in Ravenel: he’d thought about the subject a lot. And now here was Jord, telling him that it was not to be. Aimeric did not know how to respond.
Perhaps, he found himself thinking, he should be happy. But happiness seemed too strange a concept now to contemplate.
A thought occurred to him. “Was it you?” he asked, his words coming out too sharp. “Was it you who convinced Laurent not to have me killed?”
It surprised Aimeric how much it hurt to say those words.
Jord just shifted uncomfortably. “It was your mother,” he said at last. “She helped Laurent when he was on trial and in return –,” he shrugged and look to the side. “Laurent does not exactly listen to me anymore.” There was a long silence, and then Jord said, as if he had just remembered, “I left the Prince’s Guard.”
“What?” Aimeric said it more loudly than he had intended. When they had been together, Jord was always talking about how proud he was to be in the Prince’s Guard. It was quite the achievement: Jord was of common birth, but he had risen to the rank of captain. Now that Laurent had ascended to the throne, if he had stayed, Jord would have been the captain to a king – an amazing feat, probably the highest rank in the kingdom that a commoner could achieve. But no, Aimeric corrected himself: Jord had been stripped of his captaincy even before Laurent had won the war. Jord could have been the Captain in the King’s Guard, if only he had not had the misfortune to cross paths with Aimeric.
Jord just gave a weak smile. “I swore an oath to protect Laurent, and now he’s the King. I think I think I have fulfilled my oath.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to go back to Arles, pledge myself to a courtier there.” Jord was quiet for a moment, and Aimeric knew that he was struggling to find the right words. Finally, he said, “You should come with me, Aimeric. If you want. You were a good soldier. You could find work in Arles.”
The words hit Aimeric like a slap to the face. “Me? A good soldier?” Disbelief made his voice hollow. Jord just nodded. Aimeric gave Jord a long, searching look. After all that he had done – all that he had done to Jord – Jord was still making Aimeric this offer.
Aimeric found himself thinking of Fortaine. He had never liked Fortaine. It was a boring place, he had always told himself, so close to the border, so far from the capital. It was always so hard to get attention in Fortaine. Particularly when you had three older brothers whose accomplishments would always overshadow yours –
But it didn’t matter now. He had been disinherited. He no longer had a family. He had no place in the world. Jord offering to go with him to Arles was the only option that he had.
He nodded. “I would –.” The words came out so hesitantly. “I would like that.” Jord smiled, and it seemed like a year’s worth of troubles dropped from his face. Aimeric could not stop staring in disbelief at him. He wondered if he would ever understand Jord.
*****
The sun comes out more often these days in Arles, but some snow stubbornly lingers. Aimeric had only been to Arles a few times in his life before this, and Jord tries to show him around the castle. The area where they live now, Aimeric had not known. But Aimeric is already familiar with many of the places that Jord points out.
“My father used to show me around,” he tells Jord one day. Jord rests a hand on his shoulder, as if to reassure him. Aimeric finds it a little strange, but it’s a nice gesture. He looks up at the spires of the castle and remembers the first time his father pointed them out to him. His father had always loved Arles. He would rhapsodize about the beautiful architecture, the rich and intricate detailing everywhere you looked. Fortaine, he would say with a sigh, was far too plain.
It had taken Aimeric years to understand that it wasn’t really the beauty of the castle that made his father prefer Arles to Fortaine. What Guion had always loved most about Arles was power. He loved the power that lay in Arles, the power he could obtain while he was there.
Remembering how his father spoke about Arles, Aimeric realizes for the first time an uncomfortable truth. Guion had loved power; he had loved it more than his own son. Why else would have he have let the Regent recruit Aimeric as a spy. Why else would he have introduced Aimeric to the Regent in the first place.
It is not cold outside but still Aimeric shivers. Jord gives his a shoulder a squeeze and Aimeric gives him a weak smile in return. Jord thinks that it is difficult for Aimeric to talk about his father because he is dead. That is not quite the truth of the matter. Aimeric is still struggling to bury his father. But every day it becomes a little easier.
*****
It was a few days into the ride from Ravenel to Arles when Jord first tried to kiss him.
They had been making good progress; not surprising, considering they were just two riders unencumbered with a large supply train. But this far south, the weather was mild. Their pace would slow as they got further north and the winter became harsher. They had stopped for the night at an inn. Jord had ordered a room with two beds, but as they went to retire for the night, he tried to kiss Aimeric.
It was an absentminded kiss. A small, quick thing. One that he had given Aimeric many times before. Aimeric turned his head away before he fully realized what he was doing.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Jord looked hurt, but not surprised.
“No,” he said. “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have –.” Aimeric wondered what Jord thought he had to be sorry for, but Jord did not finish his sentence. He just shrugged instead. He had turned away from Aimeric towards his own bed.
“You’ve been so nice to me,” Aimeric said. He walked over to his own bed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t – after everything I’ve done.” He gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t –.” He could not find the words he wanted. There was so much to say. He managed to say, “I don’t understand.” That was an understatement. “I don’t deserve it.”
It was Jord’s turn to give him a long look. Aimeric sat, his hands in his lap, feeling a strange helplessness as he watched Jord.
“I’m not mad at you,” Jord said finally.
“I know. I don’t know why.”
Jord looked contemplative. “When I was in the Prince’s Guard,” he started, “I just got used to the idea that there were always going to be – plots upon plots, all around me, that I didn’t understand. The Regent had his schemes, Laurent had his. When he was alive, Auguste had his own, too. I’d seen it all. And it was all – it was too much for me. Much more than I could handle, or would ever want to handle. And I thought – well, if I do what I’m told, and I do a good job, and I lead my men well – that’s all I need to do. And I think – you just caught up in something bigger than yourself, and people who should have been taking care of you did not. So no, I don’t blame you for what you did.”
Aimeric’s throat felt dry. He could not find it in himself to speak. He certainly found it too difficult to look at Jord. He looked at the floor instead. Gave a small scoff. Maybe Jord didn’t blame him for what he had done. Aimeric did.
“I liked being with you, Aimeric,” Jord continued, and there was a strain in his voice that Aimeric did not want to think about. “I know – I know this must be hard for you, but I’d like to try again.”
Aimeric found himself wondering once again if he would ever understand Jord.
“Yes,” he found himself saying. His voice was barely above a whisper.
Jord walked over to his bed, sat down next to him, and kissed him. This time Aimeric didn’t pull away, but let himself be kissed. There was something soft and familiar about that kiss. Aimeric felt himself melting into that kiss, just like he had done so many times all those months ago.
******
Every morning, Jord and Aimeric check on the flowers. Aimeric does not know the first thing about tending a garden, but Jord teaches him. Today, the weather is warm and the first few shoots of green have started to grow. Aimeric is optimistic, but Jord just leans over and pulls them from the ground.
“They’re weeds,” he says, as way of explanation.
“They grew so much faster,” Aimeric says.
Jord shrugs. “Yeah. But let them grow and they’ll choke out our flowers. Those should be coming in soon, though.”
*******
It was Chancellor Herode who offered them both positions in his guard. He had been at the Court for a long time and knew of Jord by reputation. He had also been at the Regent’s trial, and greeted Aimeric with a knowing pity that rankled the former aristocrat. Aimeric knew that Jord could have found a better position; for Aimeric, it was the best he could have hoped for. Jord and Herode spoke privately at length, and Aimeric did not doubt that Herode was trying to make him and him alone an offer – but Jord was insistent and ultimately Herode took them both into his service.
When they started training, most of it was familiar to Aimeric. Most of the drills and the maneuvers were the same they had practiced on the march south. And there was Jord, once again, helping everyone but taking extra time to help Aimeric when he faltered.
Aimeric found himself wondering if Jord thought it was like the way things used to be. Perhaps it should feel like that to Aimeric. But it didn’t. After all, at that time he had merely pretended to be a soldier. Now, this was his life. It was who he was, without pretense or subterfuge.
It was a strange feeling. So much was the same and so much was different.
*******
It has been nice enough these past few days that Jord and Aimeric have been spending most of their free time outdoors. Around the castle, the first flowers are starting to bloom. One day, Jord tells Aimeric that he has something he wants to show him.
They arrive at the palace gardens just as the sun is going down. Jord is relishing in his secret, refusing to say a word when Aimeric asks where they’re going. Instead, he just smiles to himself. When Aimeric sees what Jord wanted to show him, he understands why.
It’s a small place, tucked into one of the far corners of the gardens. There’s a pond that is fed by a small waterfall. The last rays of the sunset dance on the surface of the water. Aimeric steps closer and he can see a few fish that dart away as he approaches.
“It’s beautiful,” he says.
“One of my favorite spots here. I found it a few years ago. Most people don’t go looking,” Jord agrees. He puts his arm around Aimeric and leans in to kiss his neck. Aimeric tilts his head to give him better access. “Do you like it?”
It occurs to Aimeric that he never knew about this spot. He had thought he knew the palace gardens well enough. His father had often walked him through this place before. But Guion had never gone far from the main path. And Aimeric, who had always been so fixated on whether the Regent would see him this time that he was in Arles or too busy soaking in the rare attention that his father had given him, would never have thought to gone off on his own.
Weeds grow faster and left unchecked they drain the soil. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be cleared out.
This place is something beautiful, something that Jord had discovered all on his own. And he had shared it with Aimeric.
“Of course,” he says. “Thank you, Jord.” He leans his head against the crook of Jord’s shoulder.
******
It’s not often that Aimeric gets up before Jord, but he relishes in the opportunity to kiss Jord awake today.
“What time is it?” Jord asks sleepily, even as he reaches a hand up to tangle his fingers in Aimeric’s curls.
“You’ve slept in today,” Aimeric teases. “The sun’s already up.” Jord just makes a noise of complaint. Aimeric gives him another quick kiss, before saying, “Look outside, though.”
They walk to the door and Jord’s face lights up when he sees it. The first of the flowers they’ve planted have started to grow. They’re such small things, a few white peonies. They look so delicate to Aimeric. But they make Jord happy, and so Aimeric is happy too.