Archive of Our Own

Prologue

“What are we going to do?” Ancel asked with a tremor in his voice.

Berenger paused, looking up from packing his bags. “We aren’t going to do anything. I’m going to leave before the Regent decides that stripping me of my lands and title wasn’t enough, and executes me instead. You’re going to stay and find another master. Someone who can take care of you like you deserve.”

Ancel frowned.

Berenger straightened. “No one believes you’re loyal to me. We made sure of that. Everyone will want to bid on you.”

“What if I don’t want another master,” Ancel said.

Berenger sighed and walked over to him, taking his hand in both of his. “Ancel,” he said softly. “I have nothing to offer you any longer. No wealth, no power, no safety. Do you really want to go into exile with me? To sleep on the cold ground and scrounge for food? To be hunted by the Regent’s men? There’s still a place for you at court, as long as you turn away from me.”

“I don’t want to turn away from you,” Ancel said, looking up at him. “I want- I-” he broke off, biting his lip.

Berenger’s heart ached, looking at him. But he had no other answers. Not for Ancel, and not for himself.

“I want you to be safe,” Berenger said, bringing Ancel’s hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Leaving is the only way I can help you now.”

Ancel sniffled and wiped at his eyes with the back of his other hand. “Where will you go?”

“South,” Berenger said. “I can still swing a sword. If that’s the only way I can help Prince Laurent in his cause, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“You’re joining the army?” Ancel cried out, eyes widening. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I’m dead either way,” Berenger said. “I love you, Ancel. But I have to go.”

Now

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord,” the innkeeper said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “But your usual room has already been rented to someone else.”

Berenger couldn’t help frowning. The only reason he frequented this inn was because of the room that was usually reserved for him, with private access to the hot springs. After a hard day's ride, he was sore all over and wanted it desperately. 

He could use the public springs of course, but the thought of bathing with others left him cringing with shame. He wasn’t fit to be seen in the nude any longer, if he ever had been. He rubbed absently at his hip, aching fiercely.

“I could- empty the public springs for you, my lord,” the innkeeper said, no doubt worried that Berenger would leave. 

He was too exhausted to leave. “That won’t be necessary, Frederick,” Berenger said, resigned to a night of restless sleep and more aches in the morning. 

“I would ask the other patron to vacate, but he carries the King’s seal,” Frederick said, clearly eager to please and unhappy that he was unable to do so. “Maybe he’d be willing to share?”

Berenger winced at the thought of putting someone else- some stranger- out on account of his infirmity.

“It’s fine-“ he started, only to be cut off.

“He’s a kind young lad,” Frederick said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. And he’s right over there- Master Ancel!”

Berenger froze, every muscle in his body tightening and his gut flipping over. He thought he might be sick.

“Yes?” came a painfully familiar voice, followed by approaching footsteps.

“Master Ancel,” Frederick said with a wide smile. “There’s a small matter I wanted to discuss with you. Would you perhaps be amenable to granting another guest access to your section of the hot springs?”

“Another guest?” Ancel asked, his voice too close.

A shiver ran down Berenger’s spine. He forced himself to take a deep breath. He forced himself to be brave. He turned around.

Ancel was standing less than three steps away. 

He was beautiful, as always. He was dressed in traveling clothes rather than his more familiar silks, his hair tied back in a simple braid.

Berenger had last seen him at Laurent’s coronation. He’d been sullen, then, his hair falling into his face to hide his bandages, his mouth turned down into an angry line.

Now he seemed confident, in control. The scratches around his eyes had faded to thin silver lines, and his eyepatch was made of embroidered emerald satin. He wasn’t hiding any longer.

“Ancel,” Berenger said after a moment. He wasn’t ready to face Ancel again. He’d never be ready.

“Lord Berenger,” Ancel said with bland politeness.

“So you already know each other!” Frederick said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. 

Berenger didn’t know what to say.

“Yes,” Ancel said. “Of course, Lord Berenger is welcome to bathe in the springs.” He paused, just looking.

Berenger looked back. He searched desperately for something to say. 

“There’s no need,” he said at last. “I don’t wish to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ancel said. “Frederick- please show Lord Berenger to my room.”

“Wonderful!” Frederick said, beaming. “You see? I did say he wouldn’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said to Ancel. He felt like he was dying. “I won’t be long.”

“There’s no need to rush on my account,” Ancel said graciously. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping for some time yet.”

There was another tense drawn out pause. 

“Ancel!” someone called out from a group of young people playing cards by the fireplace. 

Ancel glanced over.

“It’s your turn!”

Ancel looked back at Berenger, his expression unreadable. Finally he bowed, slightly. “Lord Berenger.” 

He turned to go back to his friends while Frederick clapped Berenger on the shoulder. “This way, my lord.”

Frederick took him down a familiar hallway, pulling out a ring of keys before unlocking the door to Berenger’s usual room. It smelled of Ancel’s perfume inside. His things were strewn about the room- clothes, paints, a pair of saddlebags.

There were three gold hair pins on the vanity, inset with emeralds. Gifts from Berenger, from back when things had been good. Or maybe they’d never been good at all. Court had already been a viper’s nest when Berenger had dragged Ancel into it. He couldn’t help thinking of how delighted Ancel had been, on that first night.

Luxury suits you.

He felt like he might vomit.

Frederick left and Berenger stepped out onto the small wooden terrace outside the room. The air was damp with steam, warm and heavy. The thick mineral smell made it difficult to draw a deep breath. Under the circumstances, Berenger knew he’d find it hard to breathe regardless.

Ancel was here.

Berenger undressed and sank into the spring with a quiet groan. His muscles started to relax despite the sickening feeling in his gut, his aches easing.

What was Ancel doing here, in the southernmost reaches of Varenne? Why wasn’t he at Arles, or Marlas, or wherever the royal court was, working on the joining of the Kingdom of Akielos and Vere?

Berenger soaked for the bare minimum amount of time before rising and realizing he’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes. He sighed and toweled himself off, then put on his old things, dirty with sweat and road dust. He needed to leave, quickly, before Ancel returned and he had to face him without Frederick between them.

When he went back into the room, he realized it was already too late.

There was a simple dinner laid out over the dining table. Ancel was sitting there, sipping on a glass of wine, his legs crossed, his eyepatch shimmering in the candlelight.

Ancel turned towards Berenger when he entered, looking him up and down. He wrinkled his nose in a painfully familiar gesture. 

In blue or red, you could look quite handsome. Let me pick your jacket.

“What’s the point of bathing if you’re only going to put your dirty clothes back on after?” Ancel asked.

“The point is to ensure I’m not in too much pain to ride tomorrow,” Berenger said.

“Should you be riding at all?” Ancel asked.

“Paschal said that if I stop, I’ll never start again,” Berenger said. “It’s worth the pain. Thank you for your hospitality. I’ll be going now.”

“Nonsense,” Ancel said. He waved toward the dinner spread, consisting of the simple foods Berenger preferred. “Sit. Eat. Frederick said you haven’t had supper.”

“I’ve imposed on you long enough,” Berenger said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Ancel looked at him shrewdly, his eye narrowed. “Are you trying to run away because you don’t want to talk to me? Or because you think I don’t want to talk to you?”

Berenger took a breath, looking past Ancel rather than at him. “You didn’t want to talk to me before.”

“I was angry, before,” Ancel said. “Do you blame me for that?”

“Of course not.”

“Even I can’t hold a grudge for five years,” Ancel said. He smiled, faintly. “I’d get wrinkles. I have to maintain what’s left of my looks.” He gestured to his face.

“You’re still beautiful,” Berenger said quietly.

Ancel pursed his lips and took a sip of wine. “You haven’t seen what’s underneath.”

I want to, Berenger didn’t say, because he had no right.

“Would you sit already?” Ancel said, a note of irritation entering his voice. “It’s not poisoned. I can prove it, if you like.”

Berenger walked to the table and sat. After a moment he filled his plate, his stomach rumbling.

“You weren’t walking yet, when last I saw you,” Ancel said. “It’s good to see you’ve healed. Is there still a lot of pain?”

“Surely we don’t need to discuss our aches like a pair of war torn old men,” Berenger said.

“Is that not what we are?” Ancel asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s not what you are, at least.”

“And what am I, then?”

“I don’t know,” Berenger said honestly. He didn’t get a lot of news from court. “Do you have a new master?”

“No,” Ancel said. “I’ve found other ways to make myself useful.”

“I see,” Berenger said, looking down to focus on his plate. He started to eat, too distracted to taste any of the food he was putting into his mouth. Ancel reached out to pour him a glass of cider, his gold rings glinting in the low light as he moved.

“I have something for you,” Ancel said after a moment. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bundle of parchment, tied with a satin ribbon. He slid it across the table and pulled his hand back. “I would have given it to you sooner, if you’d ever bothered to show your face at court.”

Hesitantly, Berenger reached for the bundle. He picked open the knot on the ribbon and unwrapped the parchment, his breath catching when he saw what was inside.

His signet ring.

For a long moment he just stared, and then he picked it up with shaking fingers and put it on. 

For the past five years he’d felt like he’d been gathering up the shattered pieces of himself, trying to fit them back into place. And here was another. 

The ring felt heavier than he remembered, but right too. He’d never quite gotten used to the feeling of emptiness on his finger, no matter how much time had passed. He flexed his right hand, the ring settling easily into place, the onyx so dark it seemed to swallow the light.

“How-“ he started, looking up to see Ancel watching him.

“I stole it, obviously,” Ancel said. “A week after you left Arles. Lord Ralin never wore it, anyway. It didn’t fit on his fat fingers. He commissioned another one, probably something hideous and gaudy. I don’t think he ever got to wear it either. It wasn’t finished before Laurent won and restored you to your rightful place.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said.

Ancel inclined his head in quiet acknowledgement. “Do you ever plan to return to court?” he asked. “Or will you hide in Varenne until you die of old age?”

Berenger frowned, that sickening feeling growing in his gut. The pointed mentions of court, the ring, the chance meeting at Berenger’s favorite inn. Was he to think it was all a coincidence? Was he to think that Ancel had been carrying his signet ring for all this time, in the hopes of running into him?

I’ve found other ways to make myself useful.

“Laurent sent you,” Berenger said.

Ancel pursed his lips and looked off to the side. “You haven’t been answering his letters,” he said, not denying it.

“Yes, I have,” Berenger said.

“You haven’t been giving him the answers he wants.”

“I’m not joining the Council,” Berenger said, setting down his fork and standing.

“Yes, I told him you’d say that,” Ancel said. He didn’t rise. “But you know how he is. I don’t know which of you is the more stubborn.”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Berenger said.

“Finish your dinner, at least,” Ancel said, looking back at Berenger’s plate.

Berenger didn’t want to finish his dinner. He didn’t want to stay for a second longer here, in this room, with Ancel.

Ancel, who was only here to do Laurent’s bidding, not because he actually wanted to see Berenger. And of course he wouldn’t. Berenger didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He’d felt a spark of hope, perhaps, that things between them could be… different. But that had been foolish. He felt like an idiot, which was exactly what he was. He was a crippled, useless, old fool.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“I’m not hungry,” Berenger said. “Good night, Ancel,” he added with a shallow bow. “It was… good to see you.”

Ancel tilted his head to the side, a small smile playing over his lips. “Even though I’m only here to drag you back to court?”

Berenger paused, absently touching the signet ring on his finger. 

You’re so good at faking it.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “Even then.”

***

He didn’t sleep well that night. But he supposed he was used to that by now. His hip started hurting an hour before dawn, so he gave up on the pretense and rose to do the stretches Paschal had shown him. They seemed to hurt more than usual. He should have stayed longer in the hot spring, especially since his plan to avoid Ancel hadn’t worked anyway.

He’d have to bear it regardless. He dressed in the dark and grabbed his bags before heading to the stables, the horizon only beginning to lighten.

Ancel was already there, wearing riding leathers and lounging on a hay bale as he filed his nails. 

“There you are,” he said without looking up. “Did you sleep in?”

Berenger froze, shocked. Ruby was already packed and saddled, standing beside Ancel and munching on oats. She looked up, flicking her ears. There were ribbons and fresh flowers braided into her mane.

“Well, shall we go?” Ancel said, putting away the nail file before rising to stroke Ruby’s neck. The collar of his shirt was unlaced, revealing a glint of emeralds. He was wearing the necklace Berenger had given him. “Or do you need help saddling Chestnut?”

“I’m not going to Arles,” Berenger said.

“Who said anything about Arles?” Ancel said, mounting up expertly. His seat had already been good, before. Now it was even better. Ruby straightened and tossed her head, eager to leave.

“I’m going home,” Berenger said. “To the fort,” he added, in case it wasn’t clear.

“Yes, I know,” Ancel said, rolling his eyes. “Where else? I’m coming with you, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Berenger asked, stunned.

“Well, yes,” Ancel said. “I’ve been here a week, waiting for you. Everyone already knows I cheat at cards. They won’t play with me anymore. What am I supposed to do? Just sit around, doing nothing? I’m bored.”

“You’re supposed to return to court, where you belong,” Berenger said.

“Laurent will think I haven’t given it my best effort if I return too soon. He’ll punish me.”

Berenger swallowed nervously. “How?”

“He’ll seat me between him and Damianos during dinner,” Ancel said with a grimace. “And then he’ll ignore Damianos in favor of talking to me, and Damianos will glare at me all night. It’s very uncomfortable.”

Berenger couldn’t help huffing out a quiet laugh. “I see. That does sound terrible.”

“Terrible,” Ancel agreed. “So are we going, or not?”

“We’re going,” Berenger said, not quite believing his own words.

He saddled Chestnut, stiff after his bad night and moving slowly. Ancel waited for him in silence, fixing the flowers threatening to fall out of Ruby’s mane.

The sun was well above the horizon when they set out, heading north.

***

It was a long ride ahead, so they took it slow and easy. They didn’t speak. Oddly enough the silence was comfortable.

They stopped at midday to eat and let the horses graze, sitting on the side of the road in the grass and eating bread and cheese and fruit, passing a waterskin back and forth. Once they were finished, Ancel went over to Ruby and retrieved a small satchel of chocolates from the saddlebag. He offered Berenger one, though Berenger declined.

“I never did apologize to you,” Berenger said after a moment, watching Ancel lick melted chocolate off his fingers.

“For what?” Ancel asked, looking over. “You didn’t scratch my eye out.”

“I let it happen,” Berenger said. “By leaving.”

“You were exiled,” Ancel said. “I did blame you, for a while. But not anymore. I could have told you as much, if you’d ever bothered to come see me. You didn’t even write.”

Berenger shifted, straightening his bad leg with a wince. He rubbed at his hip, looking down. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” he said after a moment. “I thought it would be… opening old wounds. You didn’t come see me either.”

Ancel frowned, wiping his fingers on a handkerchief and rising to put away the rest of the chocolates. “You’ve always done what you wanted. You might be a lot of things, but you’re not a coward. I thought you would have come, if you’d wanted to. But then you didn’t. I thought…” He paused, stroking Ruby’s neck. She turned towards him, nosing at his jacket, looking for treats. He smiled and pushed her away from his pockets.

“What?” Berenger asked, when it became clear Ancel wasn’t going to continue.

Ancel looked at him, his emerald eye clear and somewhat pained. “I thought- you found me hideous. I didn’t blame you for that, either.”

“I didn’t,” Berenger said. “I don’t. You can’t really believe-”

“Stop,” Ancel said sharply. “It’s fine. Let’s keep going.” He climbed back into the saddle, pointedly looking away.

Berenger gathered up the rest of their things and did the same. They headed back up the road.

“I thought you couldn’t read,” he said after a while.

“Ugh,” Ancel groaned. “I can now. Laurent made sure of it.”

“Really?” Berenger asked, surprised.

“It’s my other punishment,” Ancel said. “If he’s very displeased, he makes me read Isagoras out loud to him while he works. If I have to read about the stupid white cliffs one more time, I’ll vomit. I’ve seen them, by the way. They’re not even that white.”

Berenger laughed, startled. “You’ve been to Ios?”

“Yes,” Ancel said. “It’s too hot, and everyone is too naked. You’d hate it, if you ever bothered to crawl out of Varenne and see for yourself.”

“Ah,” Berenger said, still smiling. “I certainly won’t, now. I’m glad I’m not missing anything good.”

“You really aren’t,” Ancel said. He clicked his tongue, urging Ruby into a trot. 

Berenger followed.

***

At regular intervals, they passed patrols dressed in Berenger’s livery.

It was one of the first things he’d done, after being reinstated- insured that the roads were safe once more.

The men nodded respectfully to Berenger, and threw curious looks at Ancel.

Their contract had been the talk of the province, five years ago. Ancel was the only pet Berenger had taken before, or since.

He wondered what rumors would spread now. Maybe everyone would think he’d lost his mind again. Parsins certainly wouldn’t be pleased when they showed up at the fort together, but at least he’d be too polite to say anything outright.

They stopped at an inn for the night and Berenger paid for two rooms. They had supper in the common room, sitting close together so they could hear each other over the lively conversations of the other patrons.

“-and then Nikandros proposed raising the import taxes on turmeric and indigo to fifteen percent,” Ancel was saying with a frown.

“Fifteen?” Berenger said, aghast.

“They’re luxury goods, according to him,” Ancel said, wrinkling his nose. He raised his hand to his neck, idly stroking the emeralds he was wearing as if it were a force of habit. “What the fuck does he know about luxury? He only has two chitons. I don’t think he even knows how to brush his hair.”

“But we need turmeric and indigo for dye,” Berenger said, forcing himself to look up into Ancel’s eyes. “Higher import taxes on raw materials will raise the price of silk, and we won’t be able to compete with Vask.”

“If you’d have been there, you could have told him that,” Ancel said testily, dropping his hand to take his fork. “But you weren’t there, so Laurent told him, and he was really bitchy about it, which obviously didn’t help. Nikandros disagreed with him, and Damianos disagreed with him, and then the whole council session came to a standstill while they went to wrestle about it. Laurent went to watch, so you can imagine how much work got done the rest of the day. And now they still have to figure out where to get funds for their stupid slave schools, so they’ll probably try to raise taxes on something else that will completely cripple the economy.”

“Slave schools?” Berenger asked.

Ancel sighed heavily. “Do you not get news in Varenne? Or do you just ignore everything you think doesn’t affect you? They’ve freed all the slaves. But now there are thousands of people wandering around with no skills other than pouring wine, kneeling prettily, and spreading their legs. I suggested they could go work in the brothels, and somehow that makes me the monster? Damianos pouted about that for a full week.”

“I can see how that wouldn’t be… popular,” Berenger said, looking down to hide his smile.

“They’re already whores!” Ancel said, gesturing with his fork. “They might as well get paid for it!”

“I see,” Berenger said. It was odd how easy it was, talking to Ancel again.

“Oh, and there was an armed uprising in Aegina,” Ancel said, rolling his eyes. “The Kyros tried to secede from Akielos and join Patras, to keep his slaves. That was a disaster. Damianos was off for three months putting down the rebellion, and Laurent was miserable, so he made everyone around him miserable too. And of course there’s the issue of heirs.”

“The- the issue of heirs?” Berenger asked, struggling to keep up. “What issue?”

Ancel looked at him incredulously. “You do know how babies are made, don’t you? Because you need a daddy and a mommy. Two kings, both with cocks, can try all they like- and believe me, they’re trying- but a baby is not likely to come from their efforts.”

Berenger laughed, startled.

“They say Damianos might have a few bastards running around in Vask,” Ancel said. “Because that’s what we really need- a bastard to succeed the throne. That worked out so well the last time. And then there’s that bitch, Jocaste. She’s claiming her runt belongs to Damianos now. He’s a bastard too, if it’s even true at all. It’s all a tangled mess.”

“And yet you seem to be enjoying it,” Berenger said fondly.

Ancel paused, his fork half way to his mouth. “I- yes. I suppose I am. But I could be enjoying it more, with the right company.”

Berenger looked down at his own plate. As much as he wanted to believe that Ancel had… missed him, it was too difficult to know what was true and what was another expert manipulation. 

You’re so good at faking it.

He wasn’t going to return to court, no matter how sweetly Ancel lied to him. Besides, there was plenty of work to be done still, in Varenne.

“Tell me something else,” Berenger said after a moment. Ancel would leave once he realized that he couldn’t change Berenger’s mind. But he was here now, and there was no reason Berenger couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.

“Oh,” Ancel said, his eyes lighting up with glee. “Do you remember the blond slave, from Arles? The one Prince Torveld took a liking to? He had a lover.”

“No,” Berenger said, smiling. “Really?”

“And he’s a menace,” Ancel said, leaning in.

“Tell me about it,” Berenger said, leaning in too.

***

They traveled for four more days, reaching the fort in the late afternoon. The journey had been easy, warm. They hadn’t talked about any difficult topics, and even Ancel’s pointed allusions to Berenger returning to court had faded. Berenger had almost managed to forget about the war, the Regent, and every other unpleasant thing he’d been dealing with for the past five years.

Stepping into the fort felt like a slap in the face.

Ancel didn’t notice the conspicuous absence of horses in the stables, but when they walked into the entrance hall, he drew up short in shock.

The fort hadn’t exactly been the height of luxury, before. Now it was a bare cold place, devoid of furnishings or warmth, the frigid autumn breeze whistling through the halls.

“What the fuck happened?” Ancel asked, looking around.

“The Regent happened,” Berenger said. “When word got out that I’d been exiled, the servants took what they could and ran. I sold the rest.”

Lord Ralin had emptied the treasury, leaving him with almost nothing when he’d returned.

“Why is it freezing in here,” Ancel said, pulling his cloak tighter around himself.

“Lord Berenger,” Parsins drawled, coming down the stairs. He paused, staring at Ancel.

“Parsins,” Berenger said. “Could you organize the servants to furnish the bedroom adjoining my chambers?”

Parsins blinked. “Right away, my lord. Will you be taking supper in the study? I’ll send someone up to light the fireplace.”

“There’s no need, I can do it myself,” Berenger said, suddenly feeling exhausted and ashamed. Ancel deserved a better welcome than this. At the moment, he could not provide one. He picked up Ancel’s bags and headed upstairs, Ancel following silently through the empty halls.

The walls were bare, as were the floors. Even the curtains were gone. The niches in the corridors that had housed various statues and trinkets were empty. It hadn’t seemed to matter before, when it was just him. It wasn’t as though he entertained guests. If he’d had warning that Ancel was coming, he might have put some effort into making the fort hospitable. As it was, it was already too late.

At least the study was in a better state. It was where Berenger spent most of his time, when he was home. There was a carpet, at least, and a comfortable sofa with a low table in front of it. The bookshelves were a mess; he was still in the process of reorganizing his ledgers and record books.

Berenger set down Ancel’s bags and went to light the fire, gritting his teeth as the ache in his hip flared when he sank to his knees and reached for the tinder box.

“Your books are gone,” Ancel said.

Berenger looked up to find Ancel standing in front of the bookshelf, idly running his fingers over the spines of some of the ledgers.

“Yes,” Berenger said, turning back towards the fire. He got the kindling to light and blew on it to coax the flame higher. “Parsins managed to save some of the rarer scrolls, and some of my mother’s jewelry. But the rest…”

“But the servants are back now?” Ancel said.

“Some. But they’d already sold what they’d taken. It was the only way some of them could afford to feed their families. Lord Ralin raised the rents and neglected his duties. By the time I returned, everyone was struggling.”

“He was only in charge for a few months,” Ancel said, appalled.

“He was very efficient when it came to stripping Varenne of all its value,” Berenger said bitterly. “We’ve been managing.”

“This is managing?” Ancel asked. “Why haven’t you asked for help? Surely Laurent owes you that much, after what you sacrificed for him.”

“Laurent owes me nothing. I was loyal to him because it was the right thing to do, not because I was looking for a reward. Besides, weren’t you the one who said the Empire was wanting for funds?”

“Yes, but…” Ancel trailed off. “This isn’t fair,” he added, a petulant tone entering his voice.

Berenger laughed quietly and stood, brushing off his hands. “When is life ever fair?”

He sat on the sofa, straightening his bad leg and rubbing at his aching hip. “I’m afraid you might find supper disappointing.”

Ancel rolled his eyes and sat beside him. “That part, at least, isn’t new. Fuck. I’ve been letting you pay for everything. I didn’t realize your situation was so dire.”

“It looks worse than it is,” Berenger said self-consciously. “We’ve had good harvests for the past three years, and the silk industry is doing well. I’ve managed to secure some good breeding stock to restart my equine breeding program and opened two copper mines in the mountains. I’m negotiating with the Vaskians to lease them grazing rights to my lands in the east, so I’ll have more income coming in soon.”

“So you actually have been busy,” Ancel said.

“Yes?” Berenger said. “What did you think I’ve been doing?”

Ancel shrugged, looking down at his hands, resting in his lap. He fiddled with a ring, decorated with sapphires and diamonds. It was one Berenger hadn’t seen before. Maybe a gift from Droet, who’d bought out Ancel’s contract after Berenger had gone. 

A quiet knock on the door interrupted Berenger’s thoughts. He moved to rise, but Ancel waved him off and went to open it himself.

A servant brought in a tray of food and set it on the low table with a bow before leaving.

“I thought you said I’d be disappointed,” Ancel said with a grin.

Supper was fresh bread and butter, fragrant meat pie, sliced fruit, and an assortment of cheese and jam. The servants had sent up a dusty bottle of wine, an excellent vintage that had somehow survived Berenger’s purge. And there were thin cookies iced in delicate floral patterns, dusted with sugar. It was lavish, by Berenger’s current standards.

The food was served on a wooden cutting board in lieu of plates. The silver was long gone, as was most of the porcelain.

“I think the servants have been hiding things from me,” Berenger said mildly, picking up the bottle of wine and inspecting the label. It was worth two hundred sol, to the right collector.

“Maybe they were scared you were going to sell it,” Ancel said.

“I probably would have,” Berenger agreed, and picked up the bottle opener.

“Wait,” Ancel said, grabbing his forearm. “Is it… valuable? Maybe we shouldn’t open it.”

“It’s just wine, Ancel,” Berenger said. “It’s meant to be shared, and enjoyed.” He opened the bottle and poured it into two tin cups for them, handing one to Ancel. “Welcome back to Varenne, such as it is.”

Ancel smiled and tapped his cup against Berenger’s with a quiet clink.

“I didn’t think I would be,” Ancel said after a moment, staring into the fireplace.

“Back?” Berenger asked.

“Welcome,” Ancel said. He picked up a cookie and took a bite.

They talked of safer topics while they ate, then finished the wine. Finally it grew too late to linger much longer, and Berenger took Ancel’s things with him back to his rooms.

“But this is your bedroom,” Ancel protested when Berenger set his bags on the bed.

“You’re a guest,” he said. “And this is the best bed in the fort.”

“But your leg-”

“Will be fine,” Berenger said firmly. “I’ll go soak in the bath for a while and feel perfectly well by morning. Good night, Ancel.”

He took some clothes from the wardrobe and retreated to the adjoining bedroom, where Ancel had slept when he’d been here before, so long ago now.

The servants had outfitted it with a narrow bed and some dingy curtains, a thin carpet. All things that hadn’t been valuable enough to bother selling.

Despite the lumpy worn out mattress, Berenger slept better than he had in years.

***

Ancel joined Berenger for lunch in the study around noon, frowning. He was still wearing the emerald necklace. Berenger tried not to think about it.

“Did you sleep well?” Berenger asked.

“I slept fine,” Ancel said, sitting on the sofa and picking up a tin fork to spear a slice of ham. “And then I tried to take luncheon in the dining hall.”

“Ah,” Berenger said.

“Are you aware you’re missing a wall?” Ancel demanded. “No wonder it’s so fucking drafty in here!”

“I’d noticed, yes,” Berenger said dryly. “Lord Ralin decided he wanted a ballroom instead of a dining hall. Unfortunately he only got as far as knocking down the wall and digging up my mother’s rosebushes.”

“Rosebushes?” Ancel asked. “I don’t remember any rosebushes.”

“They were already dying then, to be fair,” Berenger said. “My mother wasn’t much of a gardener.”

“Why haven’t you fixed it? It’s been five years!”

“It wasn’t a priority.”

“There’s a giant fucking hole in your house!” Ancel cried out. “What do you mean it wasn’t a priority!” 

Berenger motioned to the mountain of correspondence laid out in front of him.

Ancel picked up a few letters and scanned them quickly, still frowning. “Well, alright,” he said after a moment. “I can see you have… a lot to be getting on with.”

“I have to go into town later today, I have a meeting with the merchant’s guild,” Berenger said, taking a sip of tea. A pleasant herbal blend, rather than his bitter willow bark. His leg was paining him less than usual. “Would you like to come with me? It’s a two hour ride. And we can stay in town tonight, instead of in my terrible drafty house.”

“It’s not that terrible,” Ancel muttered, taking another slice of ham. “And are you sure that’s a good idea? Aren’t you worried people will think you’re wasting money on a pet, when your province is struggling?”

“People can think whatever they like,” Berenger said. “Besides, won’t you be bored here, by yourself? And I could use your expertise at the meeting. You know what’s happening at court better than anyone.”

“Well,” Ancel said, looking pleased. “If you’re sure.”

They set out a few hours later. The ride was pleasant enough, the air cool but the sun warm on their backs. They arrived in good time, and Berenger led them to the guild hall, a large building made of gray stone, bright banners hung up on the walls.

They were welcomed by servants who took the horses to be stabled nearby, and led into the meeting chamber, where they were seated at a long table and provided some modest refreshments. After that, things took a downward turn.

Rumors of the impending import taxes had spread and been exaggerated wildly. Charls, at the head of the merchant’s guild, complained indignantly and very loudly, the other guild members joining him in a furious chorus while Berenger tried fruitlessly to calm them.

Ancel’s scornful laugh cut through the din and everyone turned to look at him, somehow managing to lounge on the hard tall-backed chair beside Berenger, his legs crossed and his lips curled into smirk.

“Do you really think our kings are that incompetent?” he asked, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. As if they hadn’t been talking about doing exactly what the merchants were so afraid of mere weeks ago. “Damianos, perhaps,” Ancel said, scoffing. “But I can assure you, King Laurent keeps him on a short leash.”

“But- the rumors,” a portly older merchant started, his long gray moustache quivering.

“There are always rumours,” Ancel said, rolling his eyes. “Are you stupid enough to believe everything you hear? Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“Ancel,” Berenger said, trying to sound reproachful rather than amused. He couldn’t deny that Ancel’s methods were effective. With one comment, he’d transformed a room full of irate old men into sheepish little boys.

“Is this true, Lord Berenger?” Charls asked hopefully. “There won’t be an increase in the import taxes?”

“Of course,” Berenger said. “So there’s no need for panic, as I’ve been saying.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Charls said, smiling widely.

The meeting went much more smoothly after that, and they managed to finish before dinner.

Berenger rose, hiding a wince as his leg seized up after so long spent sitting. “Shall we go for a stroll and perhaps find an inn?” he asked Ancel.

“An inn?” Charls asked, overheating. “Certainly not- I won’t hear of it! It would be my honor to host you and your pet for the night, my lord.”

“Ah,” Berenger said, unsure if he should correct Charls or not. 

“And such a clever young man, too,” Charls barreled onward. “A sign of good things to come for all of us, I’m sure!”

“I’m sure,” Ancel said pleasantly, taking Berenger’s arm. He made no move to correct Charls either, so Berenger had to assume he didn’t mind. He hadn’t realized that perhaps people might think him taking a pet was a sign his fortune- and by extension, their fortune- was improving.

Charls showed them to his home- a luxurious house in the center of town. It was tastefully appointed, with marble floors and beautiful tapestries on the walls. It was warm and welcoming, nothing like Berenger’s barren fort, drafty and depressing.

But this was supposed to be an enjoyable evening, so he put it out of his mind.

Charls arranged a lavish dinner for them, with multiple courses of delicate pastries and roast meat and an entire platter of deserts, cakes from the the finest bakeries in town. Ancel was in wonderful spirits as he talked to Charls of the latest fashions at court, the way that Akielons had started adopting Veretian sensibilities and vice versa.

“Chitons are all the rage in Arles now,” Ancel said. “Though of course, more modest versions, with skirts down to the floor and slashed sleeves.”

“Is that so!” Charls said with a gleam in his eye. “I imagine you’d need quite a bit of fabric for that!”

“Yes,” Ancel said. “Linen, mostly, though I imagine the trend will turn to silk, soon enough. And there’s a game the Veretian courtiers have been playing, trying to trick the Akielons into bending over to show their asses. So they’re starting to wear trousers, finally. It’s really about time.”

Charls laughed brightly. “Oh, Master Ancel! This news is music to my ears! Business will be booming!”

“I should hope so,” Ancel said. “If anyone inquires about sourcing fine fabrics, I’ll send them straight to you.”

“Clever lad,” Charls said with a wink. “I’ll be sure to send your master a cut of the profits.”

“That really isn’t-” necessary Berenger didn’t finish, stopping when Ancel set a hand on his forearm and gave him a pointed look. He took another bite of cheese, instead. 

After dinner Charls showed them to a set of rooms and had his servants bring up their things.

“Will this be suitable, my lord?” Charls asked. “Do you require anything else?”

There was a sitting room, a bathing chamber, and a single bedroom. With a single bed.

Berenger swallowed hard. If they were pretending Ancel was his pet, they couldn’t very well ask for another bedroom. “This will be perfectly fine, thank you for your hospitality.”

“Very good,” Charls said, beaming. “I’ll let you two rest, and I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast. Please let the servants know if they can help you with anything. Good night Lord Berenger, Master Ancel.” He bowed and left them standing in the sitting room alone.

“I’ll bathe first, if you don’t mind,” Ancel said. “I’ll be quick. You can soak as long as you want, after.”

“Of course,” Berenger said, and brought their things into the bedroom. There was an array of fine scented oils on the nightstand for-

He blushed and looked away. They wouldn’t be using them. He retrieved a set of fresh sleeping clothes from his bag and did his stretches as he waited for Ancel to finish.

“The bath is huge,” Ancel said, breezing into the room wrapped up in a thick robe. His hair was damp, his face flushed. He smelled of floral soaps, fresh and sweet. “Try not to fall asleep and drown in there.”

“I’ll try,” Berenger said. “Good night, Ancel.”

“Good night?” Ancel repeated, pausing. And then he frowned. “You’re going to try to sleep out on the sofa, aren’t you.”

“There’s only one bed.”

“So?” Ancel said. “It’s big enough for four. Are you afraid I’ll smother you in your sleep?”

“I don’t- sleep very well these days,” Berenger said. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“You have nightmares,” Ancel said. “Who doesn’t? Don’t sleep on the sofa, it’s too short. You’ll hurt your leg.”

“I’ll be fine,” Berenger said.

“If I have to drag you to bed, I promise you won’t be,” Ancel said. “Stop being ridiculous.”

“If you’re sure,” Berenger said awkwardly.

Ancel just stared at him, so he nodded and left for the bath. He couldn’t help lingering, hoping that Ancel would already be asleep by the time he returned. Eventually the water grew cold and he rose, drying himself off efficiently before dressing.

When he walked into the bedroom he had to pause, his breath catching in his throat. Ancel was sitting in bed, reading by the light of a single lamp. His hair was loose and shining, his plain linen sleep shirt threatening to slip off one of his pale shoulders.

Oh this? I wasn’t expecting you back so early. I can change into something more-

The only thing that spoiled the illusion was the satin eyepatch, the thin silver scars.

“You didn’t have to stay up waiting for me,” Berenger said, settling into the other side of the bed.

Ancel threw a glance at him over his book. “Yes, I did. You can’t be trusted.” He slipped a bookmark between the pages and set the book aside, moving to blow out the lamp.

In the dark, Berenger heard a quiet rustling. Maybe Ancel had taken the eyepatch off at last, or maybe he was just settling.

“Good night,” Ancel said quietly.

“Good night,” Berenger echoed.

***

Berenger woke abruptly, sitting with a gasp. His ears were ringing with the sounds of battle, his leg was screaming in agony. He brought his hand up to his chest, fighting to breathe.

Distantly he became aware of pressure on his shoulder and turned to see Ancel, sitting beside him, groggy and squinting in the darkness, his hair falling into his face like a curtain.

“Everything’s alright,” Ancel said. “You were dreaming. It’s over now- the war is over. You’re in Varenne.”

Berenger stared at him, confused as reality slowly reasserted itself. The war was over. He was in Varenne, in Charls’ house, with Ancel. He swallowed hard.

“Ah,” he managed before stumbling out of bed. His shirt was soaked through with sweat, sticking to his skin. He felt filthy, so he stripped it off and dropped it to the floor before going to the wash basin on the other side of the room. He splashed water on his face, his hands shaking, then quickly wiped the sweat off his chest, his arms. He could smell blood, but he knew it wasn’t real. His palms felt sticky with mud and grit. That wasn’t real either. He thought he might vomit.

He massaged his hip, not sure if the pain was real or just a memory. Slowly, he managed to catch his breath.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said after a long moment.

“It’s freezing outside,” Ancel said reproachfully.

“It helps me calm down,” Berenger said, not turning. “I won’t be long. Go back to sleep.”

He closed his eyes as he heard the rustling of blankets, approaching footsteps. And then Ancel was wrapping his arms around him from behind, holding tight, his cheek pressed to Berenger’s naked back.

Berenger shuddered, gritting his teeth. He’d always dealt with these- episodes- by moving, working, holding himself together. Now he felt completely undone. He swallowed against the sob rising in his throat, shame making his skin prickle with heat.

“If you keep holding it in, it’ll stay inside you forever,” Ancel said quietly.

Berenger gripped the sides of the washbasin hard as tears slipped down his face despite his best efforts. Ancel didn’t say anything else. They stood there silently for what felt like ages until Berenger was finally able to take a deep breath. Ancel stepped back and he washed his face again before turning.

“Come back to bed,” Ancel said, taking his hand.

Berenger followed him back to bed and let Ancel pull him close, resting his head on Ancel’s chest and listening to his even heartbeat. He closed his eyes when Ancel ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“What do you dream of?” Ancel asked. “Your injury?”

“No,” Berenger said. That would have been easier. “I dream of the screaming. The men- the horses. The mud on the battlefield, red with blood and- the reek of it. I know it’s over, but sometimes I feel as though- I’m still there. I still see the war everywhere I look. The farms in disrepair around me, the dug up rosebushes. The pain in my leg.”

“Hm,” Ancel hummed thoughtfully. “You really need to fix the hole in your house.”

Berenger laughed quietly. “I’m getting to it.”

“So get to it, for fuck’s sake,” Ancel said. “Winter will be on us before you know it.”

“It always is,” Berenger said. Ancel was still stroking his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Ancel said. “I was already up when I noticed you were trembling.”

“I’m sorry you’ve found me in such a pitiful state,” Berenger said.

“Pitiful?” Ancel scoffed. “You’re walking. You’re riding. You’re trying to run away to sleep on the sofa. I found you in the same state I left you in.”

Berenger couldn’t help smiling. “That’s kind of you to say.”

His heart was settling at last, his tremors fading.

“What do you dream of?” he asked.

“The ring,” Ancel said without hesitation. “The pain, of course. But also the shocked gasps from the audience. The fact that no one stopped it.”

Berenger closed his eyes, trying desperately not to imagine it. “I never thought Droet would put you in the ring. He’s never been one to share his pets. And he was besotted with you.”

“He didn’t want to,” Ancel said. “The Regent arranged it all. He put me up against some soldier they’d painted up like a pet. I think he was meant to rape me, after. But the audience didn’t have the stomach for it. To his credit, Droet kept my contract while I recovered. Even though he couldn’t stand to look at me.”

“Will you let me look at you?” Berenger asked.

Ancel tensed. Berenger held his breath, waiting. And then Ancel sighed heavily. “You might as well.”

Berenger propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Ancel laying beside him. It was dark in the room, only a sliver of moonlight slipping past the curtains. Carefully, he raised his hand to brush Ancel’s hair back from his face.

His right eye was milky, blind, surrounded by healed but ragged flesh and silver scars. He was worrying at his lip, clearly nervous as he waited for what Berenger would say.

Berenger gently ran his thumb over Ancel’s eyebrow, bisected by scars but still elegant.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Ancel frowned and turned away. “You don’t have to lie.”

“When have you ever known me to lie?”

Ancel huffed. “It’s true you could stand to do more of it. Go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Berenger said, shifting away.

“Don’t,” Ancel said, grabbing his arm. “Your side of the bed is all damp. Just- stay.”

Berenger paused. Ancel was lying on his side, not looking at him. Slowly, Berenger wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m not going to bite you, for fuck’s sake,” Ancel muttered.

“Alright,” Berenger said. He pressed close, closing his eyes as he buried his face against Ancel’s hair.

He couldn’t smell the battlefield anymore. 

There were no more nightmares that night, for either of them.

***

After breakfast, Charls pressed a large wrapped package into Ancel’s arms.

“What’s this?” Ancel asked, delighted.

“You were admiring it last night at dinner, don’t think I didn’t notice!” Charls said.

Ancel peeled back the wrapping to peek inside. “The tapestry of the orgy scene!” he said with a wide smile. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

“Embellished with gold thread and pearl beads,” Charls said. “Only the finest for you, Master Ancel.”

Berenger sighed. “It’s really not necessary-”

“It’s for me, not you,” Ancel interrupted, glaring.

“I really must insist!” Charls said. “Enjoy it, lad. You’re worth every sol, and more!”

“Thank you,” Ancel said. “How kind.” He nudged Berenger in the side with his elbow.

“Yes, how kind," Berenger said, nodding. "Thank you, Charls.” 

“I’m hoping for more good news soon,” Charls said with a wink.

“I’ll work my magic,” Ancel said. “You can be assured of that.”

Ruby and Chestnut were already saddled and ready, waiting for them in the stables. Berenger watched as Ancel tucked the tapestry into a saddlebag.

“What a lovely man,” Ancel said, mounting Ruby. “I wish I’d met him sooner.”

“I wish you wouldn’t accept bribes to influence Imperial tax policy,” Berenger said.

“You call it a bribe, I call it a gift,” Ancel said, stroking Ruby’s neck. “And I would have been doing it anyway, so I may as well get something for it. If you end up making lots of money, I want an emerald bracelet.”

“Noted,” Berenger said, clicking his tongue at Chestnut to get going.

They reached the fort by lunch time, then unsaddled and brushed down their own horses before heading inside.

Now it was Berenger’s turn to pause in the entrance hall. There was a thick ornate carpet on the floor, and a heavy round console table in the center of the room. It was polished to a mirror shine, decorated with elaborate carvings of horses, so lifelike that it felt as though they were on the verge of galloping off.

“Well this is much better,” Ancel said, walking forward to stroke his fingers over the table top.

“My lord,” Parsins said, entering the room to greet them.

“Parsins,” Berenger said. “You told me Lord Ralin had gambled away my great grandfather’s table.”

“I lied,” Parsins said, completely unrepentant. “You would have sold it, even though it’s been in the family for generations. It used to stand in the palace in Skarva. I hid it in the kitchens. The cooks have been using it to knead dough.”

Ancel laughed in delight.

“I see,” Berenger said. “Is there anything else you’ve been hiding from me?”

“Perhaps,” Parsins said.

“Perhaps,” Berenger echoed with a sigh.

“Could you see about hanging this up in my bedroom?” Ancel asked, handing his new tapestry to Parsins.

“Of course,” Parsins said with a respectful bow.

“I don’t want a tapestry of an orgy in my bedroom,” Berenger said.

“You should have thought about that before you gave me your bedroom,” Ancel said with a smirk. “I’m a guest, remember?”

Berenger remembered. He also remembered that the only reason Ancel was here was because Laurent had sent him, and that he’d be leaving soon.

“Do as you like,” Berenger said. “I need to work.”

“Come, Parsins,” Ancel said, still smiling. “Show me what else you’ve been hiding.”

***

A few more carpets and pieces of fine furniture appeared around the fort. Dinner was served on porcelain dishes, and a cut crystal vase found its way into Berenger’s study, full of branches bearing brightly colored autumn leaves.

Ancel organized the servants into making wreaths and garlands out of cut evergreen branches and fall leaves, hanging them around the fort and filling it with bright color and the pleasant smell of pine. The servants seemed to try harder, now that he was around. Their meals were more elaborate, the wines they were served finer. Someone took the time to embroider the plain linen napkins with songbirds, and infuse the lamp oil with dried flowers.

Soon the windows and floors were sparkling and the linens smelling strongly of soap and fresh air. Every draft was plugged up with straw and every fireplace was kept lit, leaving the fort warm and cozy. Cobwebs were obliterated with prejudice.

Berenger looked through the household budget and scraped together enough money to buy a few bolts of satin at a discount, then hired a local seamstress to sew curtains. She gave him a discount on her work, too. He’d helped her buy medicine for her son a few winters back. As a result there was enough money left for a decent set of silverware.

Through it all, Ancel made no mention of court, made no sign to leave.

Berenger wondered how long he intended to stay but was too afraid to ask.

A week later he woke to the sound of hammering. He rose from the narrow bed and threw on a thick dressing gown and some slippers before limping down to the dining hall.

Ancel was there, supervising a dozen townsfolk as they constructed a wall out of wooden planks.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, taking him by the arm and pulling him away to a corner of the room. “What is going on?”

“I think that’s fairly obvious,” Ancel said.

“Ancel,” Berenger sighed, rubbing his temples. His leg was throbbing. Curtains and forks were one thing, but paying for the labor of a dozen people for several days, much less the materials… “I can’t afford this.”

“Don’t be an idiot, money isn’t the only currency you have,” Ancel said. “Look,” he pointed at one of the workers. “That’s Henri. You stayed with him through the birth of his prize colt six years ago.” He pointed to another man. “That’s Simon- you helped him buy equipment so he could harvest his crops last fall. Andre- you helped him when his shop burned down. Remi-”

“Point taken,” Berenger said. “But the lumber-”

“Would have just been sitting in a warehouse until spring, anyway,” Ancel said. “When the deal with Vask comes through, you’ll be able to hire a stonemason and take down the planks to use them for something else. I know what I’m about. If you’re only going to complain, go away.”

“I-“ Berenger broke off, realizing that he had nothing to say. He turned around and went to go take a bath.

***

Berenger woke only to immediately wince, the pain in his leg flaring. He had to take a few deep breaths before he managed to gather himself enough to sit up. That was as far as he got.

Soon, Parsins entered with a cup of willow bark tea and his cane.

“The weather is changing,” Parsins said, opening the curtains. The sky was dark with clouds.

“I’d noticed,” Berenger said, gulping down bitter tea.

“You’ll feel better when the storm breaks,” Parsins said. “You always do. I’ll help you dress.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said.

He had a second cup of tea before he managed to make it to the study, leaning heavily on the cane.

Ancel didn’t join him for breakfast, which wasn’t unusual. But then lunchtime came and went and there was still no sign of him. Had he left? Surely he would have at least said goodbye.

Berenger summoned Parsins to ask.

“Ruby is still in the stables,” Parsins said. “But none of the servants have seen Ancel this morning. I believe he’s still in bed.”

“I see,” Berenger said. Maybe the weather troubled Ancel as much as it did him.

“Shall I send someone to check on him?” Parsins asked.

“I’ll go,” Berenger said. “But please send up a pot of willow bark tea.”

He massaged his hip for a few moments as he readied himself to stand. Finally he gritted his teeth and rose to his feet before taking his cane and making his way to Ancel’s bedroom.

He knocked quietly on the door, but there was no answer. He opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark, the curtains still pulled closed. Ancel was curled up on his side in bed, his hair messy over the pillows. Berenger made his way closer, the tapping of the cane muffled on the carpet.

“Ancel?” he asked quietly.

Ancel stirred with a groan, peering up at him groggily.

“Are you alright?” Berenger asked.

“Headache,” Ancel said, closing his eye and burying his head in the pillow. “It’s this fucking weather.”

“I know,” Berenger said. “I have tea for you. It’ll help you feel better.”

“If I drink your disgusting tea, I’ll vomit,” Ancel groaned. “No, just leave me here to die.”

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” Berenger said. He made his careful way over to the washbasin and soaked a cloth in cold water before wringing it out and folding it into a thick strip. He returned to the bed and brushed Ancel’s hair back from his forehead, then set the cloth over it.

“Fuck,” Ancel groaned. “That’s a bit better.”

“Are you sure you won’t have some tea?”

Ancel swallowed and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, growing pale. “Don’t mention the fucking tea.”

“Alright,” Berenger said. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Ancel seemed to consider the offer. “You could read to me. If you’re not too busy.”

“I’m not too busy,” Berenger said. He took Ancel’s book from the nightstand and went to light a lamp before sitting in bed, his back propped up against a few pillows. As he opened the book, Ancel turned towards him, one hand holding the cloth in place over his forehead as he draped the other arm over Berenger’s lap, pressing close.

Berenger lowered his free hand to stroke Ancel’s hair, a little damp with sweat but still as soft and fine as silk.

He read for a while, his voice quiet in the hopes that Ancel might fall asleep through the worst of it. The room was warm and dark, cozy. Eventually he felt Ancel relaxing against him, his breath evening out. He marked the page with the bookmark and set the book aside.

He had plenty of work to be getting on with, but at the moment leaving the bed seemed too daunting a task. His leg was only throbbing faintly, but he knew that would change as soon as he tried to move. It was probably only early afternoon, but he was exhausted. As he tried to decide what to do, he managed to doze off, still mostly sitting up, his hand resting on Ancel’s back.

He woke some time later, the lamp still flickering beside him. His leg felt better. He didn’t need to look out the window to know it had started to snow.

“You’re still here,” Ancel said.

Berenger looked down to see Ancel looking at him. He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch, his scars and milky eye were on full display. And he was still so beautiful.

“Of course,” Berenger said. “The storm has broken. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes,” Ancel said, sitting up. “Much better. I haven’t had to deal with this for a while. I usually go south for the winter.”

“That’s probably wise,” Berenger said with a twinge of regret. “This snowfall will likely melt by tomorrow, but it’s only going to get worse from here. If you want to make it back to court before spring, you have to go soon.”

“Come with me,” Ancel said, reaching out to take his hand. “This weather can’t be good for you either.”

Berenger looked away. “My answer hasn’t changed. I’m not going to court on Laurent’s say-so.”

Ancel thinned his lips into a frown and pulled away, rising. “I see,” he said, walking over to the dressing table to brush his hair and put on his eyepatch.

“At least he won’t be able to say you didn’t give it your best effort,” Berenger said, rising too.

“No, he won’t,” Ancel said quietly. “I’m still tired. I think I’ll take dinner in my room tonight. I’ll leave in the morning.”

Berenger swallowed hard, picking up his cane. He didn’t need it, at the moment. Which was just as well. He could maintain some dignity as he left. “Very good,” he said. “I’ll make sure Ruby is saddled and ready for you.”

“Thank you,” Ancel said, not turning around.

Berenger nodded, even though Ancel wasn’t looking at him, and turned to go.

***

They had breakfast together. It was awkward. Quiet. This was always how it was going to end, but at the moment Berenger felt wretched about it.

“Well,” Ancel said, in the entry hall. “Perhaps you’ll write, this time.”

“If you like,” Berenger said.

Ancel opened his mouth as if to say something else, then frowned and closed it. He turned and walked out the door. It felt like Berenger’s heart was walking out with him.

Parsins, standing beside Berenger, made a noise of disgust and crossed his arms. “Have you lost your fucking mind, boy?” he said sharply.

Berenger flinched. The last time Parsins had called him boy, he’d been eight. “What?” he asked.

“This was the happiest I’ve seen you in years, and you’re just letting him leave? Just like that?” Parsins demanded.

“He’s going back to where he belongs,” Berenger said. “And I’m staying here, where I belong.”

“You’re not too old for me to thump you!” Parsins said. “He came here because he loves you, you fucking idiot. And you’re sending him away!”

“He doesn’t-” Berenger broke off, his gut sinking. “He only came because Laurent sent him to convince me to join the Council.”

“The Council?” Parsins repeated incredulously. “Were you stabbed in the leg or in the head? The Council has been full for four years! There’s no seat for you on the Council until Herode finally croaks, and who knows when that will be!” 

“Oh,” Berenger breathed out, his eyes widening. 

“Oh,” Parsins said scornfully. “Well? Why are you still standing here making an old man yell at you? Go fetch him back!”

And still, Berenger hesitated. What did he have to offer Ancel, really? He was old and tired. Sometimes he needed a cane to walk. His lands were in shambles and his coffers empty. 

But Ancel had known all that, for weeks now. And still he’d stayed, and held him through his nightmares, and filled his home with warmth, and tried to convince Berenger to come with him.

I don’t want- I told you, I didn’t tell him anything. I wouldn’t. I was your pet. I thought we- I don’t want your money like that-

Berenger turned and walked after Ancel, his mind racing with fear and hope. 

There was no sign of him outside, he was likely in the stables by now, where Ruby was saddled and waiting for him. What if he’d already gone?

He knew he’d regret it later, but at the moment the pain he’d feel tomorrow didn’t seem to matter. Berenger ran.

He burst into the stables and paused, breathing hard.

Ancel was still there, hugging Ruby’s neck, his face hidden against her mane. Ruby had her head down, curving around him as if she were hugging him back. She looked up when Berenger entered, staring at him accusingly.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, voice ragged.

Ancel stiffened, then pulled away from Ruby to surreptitiously wipe at his face with the back of his hand. “You couldn’t give me a few fucking minutes? I’m leaving, just like you wanted.”

Berenger walked closer, his heart racing and his hands trembling. “Did Laurent really send for me?”

Ancel turned to look at him, his face red and splotchy, his cheeks damp. “Laurent doesn’t know where I am.”

Berenger reached out to set his hand on the side of Ancel’s face and leaned in to kiss him.

Ancel froze, and then he was kissing back, wrapping his arms around Berenger’s shoulders.

“I told you I loved you, before,” Berenger gasped against his lips. “That hasn’t changed. It’s never changed.”

Ancel laughed and pulled him backwards into one of the stalls until they tumbled into a pile of straw. Berenger’s leg protested but he ignored it. It wasn’t important. Not with Ancel kissing him, holding him tight.

It was cold in the stables. That wasn’t important either. They fumbled inelegantly together, laughing at the awkwardness of it all, just wanting to be closer.

Ruby whinnied loudly and Berenger looked up to see her staring at them, flicking her tail in annoyance.

“We should get her settled before she wanders off,” Berenger said.

“Wanders off where?” Ancel said. “She’s home.”

Berenger laughed and kissed him again. There was straw in Ancel’s hair.

“Let’s go back inside,” Berenger said, smiling as he stroked Ancel’s face. “I want to do this properly. In bed. Or else I might not be able to walk tomorrow, much less ride.”

“Where are you planning on riding off to?” Ancel asked.

“South, with you,” Berenger said.

Ancel blinked in surprise. “You said you weren’t going to court.”

“For Laurent,” Berenger said. “For you, I’ll go anywhere.”

fin.