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For the third time that day, Nikandros pinned Laurent against the mattress, slightly rougher than usual. He felt a little bad when the blond winced in pain, but the kyros couldn’t help it. The Okton, which was the biggest sports event in Akielos, was drawing closer fast, and Nikandros had set a goal to be the wrestling champion. He had already won the title when he was younger—twice in a row—then Damen had beaten him at his first participation in the games, and Nikandros had never managed to get back his spot.
Wrestling was his favourite sport and the one for which he had trained for since he was a teenager, so it was also the most important in his eyes. Losing at the javelin throwing or at the running trial didn’t mean much for him, but he craved to win back the wrestling champion title (even more so since it would piss Damen off, and after everything his best friend made him go through, a small revenge wouldn’t hurt).
“Barbarian!” Laurent growled, bringing him back to the time being. “You’re harsher than usual, what’s wrong with you?”
The King of Vere massaged his aching shoulders, stifling a sigh of pain. He stared at the kyros with a steady gaze, as if he was trying to pierce his secrets just by watching him.
“Pardon me, Your Majesty. I was distracted.”
Nikandros held out a hand to Laurent to help him get up, before adding, “We can stop here if you wish.”
“Absolutely not.”
His unequivocal answer could have cut the tension with a knife as they moved on without another word.
Laurent wasn’t the type to give up, and Nikandros had understood that long ago. He always ended up finding a way to get what he wanted, whatever schemes he needed to use, or people he needed to hurt in order to succeed. The venom of his words was always as deadly, and the ice of his tone colder than northern winters.
Nikandros and Laurent didn’t like each other at the time, but they were making an effort to be civilized around one another since Vere and Akielos had been united with the wedding of their respective kings.
When Laurent had asked him to train him in wrestling, Nikandros hadn’t been able to hide his surprise. He had agreed, of course, because Laurent’s authority was higher than his own, but it had slightly bothered him. However, the young king turned out to be an excellent student, which only made Nikandros want to complain even more about.
Was there a single thing that Laurent couldn’t carry out with grace, efficiency, and talent? After all, it wasn’t just his blond hair that had swept Damen’s heart away.
He pinned Laurent again even harder, drawing out a brief moan of pain from him. The Veretian was getting better fast, but he would never be at Nikandros’ level, and that made the man display an amused smirk.
Nikandros respected him now, but he couldn’t help to resent him—as he always would—because Laurent had stolen Damen from him.
***
The heat in Ios during summertime was as awful as usual, and Laurent was always reluctant to wear Akielon’s traditional clothing—those stupid chitons that let way too much skin on display for everyone to see—but with time, he had progressively allowed himself to wear one when he was alone with Damen, like this afternoon. Seated on the balcony next to their room in the palace, they were enjoying the brief respite they could have before the Okton would begin. Laurent wasn’t too inclined to participate in these barbarian games, since they caused him terrible sunburns on the portion of skin he couldn’t cover, even though the jousting trial tempted him. As for Damen, he would take part in most of them.
Nevertheless, as he was seductively taking a grape into his mouth, he didn’t feel like speaking about sports that much, and the glance he had caught between Damen and Nikandros earlier had piqued his interest to say the least.
It was far from the first time Laurent noticed the way those two interacted. They knew each other since their teenage years and were very close, indeed, but sometimes, the blond thought they looked like lovers. And the more these kinds of thoughts came to his mind, the more curious he was about it.
Leaning nonchalantly on the railing, he said casually, “So, you and Nik have always been just… friends?”
Damen turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.
“What are you implying?” he retorted, becoming defensive.
Of course, he thought Laurent was questioning his faithfulness. Akielons’ customs effectively involved taking one or many concubines as well as slaves. Damen had recently changed the law regarding sexual servitude, but it was allowed for a married man in Akielos to have sex with people other than his husband.
“I’m not implying anything,” Laurent admitted. “Don’t tell me you two never kissed? You look at each other like past lovers.”
“Well, there’s indeed been some things, but those are things friends do where I’m from, nothing more.”
Laurent shaked his head, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. Was Damen lying to himself that badly? Or maybe it was a cultural issue? Akielons probably didn’t use the same words as Veretians to describe the same acts, especially since Damen was particularly fond of euphemisms.
“Things that friends do? Just to understand, is kissing passionately a friendly gesture for you?”
Laurent’s perplexed tone must be obvious, because Damen seemed confused for a moment.
“Passionately, I’m not sure, but kissing a friend is purely platonic in my culture. You’ve never done it?”
“Not with a friend, Damen,” Laurent insisted.
To be honest, Laurent had never kissed anyone who wasn’t Damen before, but that wasn’t something he necessarily needed to know. He must have already found out when witnessing Laurent’s lack of experience.
“I don’t know what to tell you, it’s natural for me. We apparently don’t have the same customs,” he tried to rationalize.
Noticing that Damen was only defending himself, Laurent decided to change tactics. He wasn’t accusing him of anything ; he was merely curious.
“Certainly. I just find it surprising that you never felt anything for Nikandros. After all, he’s rather good-looking, and imagining you satisfied by being only his friend is unexpected.”
As he finished talking, he took another grape between his fingers, and his eyes stared right up at Damen’s while he let his tongue slip out to grab the fruit.
“Well, I wouldn’t turn him down if he’d ask me to be his friend,” he added, innocently.
This time, Damen’s expression changed, his thick eyebrows furrowing deeper. He was used to Laurent’s games, but that one didn’t seem to please him.
“Don’t do this,” he snapped, with a kingly voice meant to command armies.
Laurent swallowed, and wiggled back into place on his chair to regain composure, all of this with a straight face that didn’t give anything away.
“Do what?”
“You think I’m naïve, don’t you? But I assure you that I know what I feel. I love Nik like a brother.”
Damen had a serious look again. The same expression he had when talking about his nation or strategies on the battlefield. Laurent had learned to enjoy and respect these features.
“A brother you kiss,” he couldn’t help but emphasize.
“We’re not going to debate about this for hours, are we?”
Damen’s attempt to cut off the conversation was obvious, but Laurent refused to let him off the hook so easily. He wanted to push him to his limits, and try to bring him out of his denial.
“And why not? You could tell me how you two met, how your friendship became so close?”
Damen sighed, rubbing his unruly curls with his hand, and then accepted.
***
13 years ago
Damen was lying down on the tender grass of the backyard, near the field where soldiers trained. Next year, he would turn sixteen and be officially old enough to be part of the palace’s military, but for now, he was still a novice and needed to learn combat techniques like the others. He was watching with a particular interest the graceful and precise moves of one soldier who was splitting the air with his sword as if he was fighting an invisible enemy.
“Are you going to stare at me like this all day? Or are you actually going to train with me?” he teased, without stopping his drills.
The sun was at its highest, and the heat wasn’t diminishing at all during this month of June. Damen found him especially courageous to train that day. However, he had to admit that he offered quite a view—dripping sweat and half naked—that was far from displeasing him.
“I have the intention to stay right here,” he assured as an answer.
He was a prince after all, he might as well do nothing if that’s what he wanted. The soldier smiled softly, amused by his future king’s frivolous nature. Damen felt his own self-confidence flicker seeing that devastating smile.
“As you please, Your Highness.”
Damen didn’t miss the disappointment in the young man’s voice, named Nikandros if he remembered correctly, and he almost regretted refusing so categorically. The man, for his part, continued his training while trying to ignore the gaze weighing heavily on him, which wasn’t easy considering it belonged to the prince.
The following day, the sky was cloudy and the heat was less suffocating, so Damen decided to take his heaviest sword and return to the training field. He was going to prove he wasn’t lazy.
The first person he saw was Nikandros, tackling another man to the ground, visibly in the middle of a wrestling match. The sides were unbalanced, and it wasn’t difficult to know who was going to win.
“You’ll have to train harder if you don’t want to finish on the floor after each match,” Nikandros explained after tackling the man yet another time.
Damen had to wipe the thin trickle of drool on his chin before he could speak.
“Hum, hey. I’d like to learn wrestling too,” he said nonchalantly while dropping his sword further away.
In a swift motion, he unpinned his chiton, and undressed. The other man took advantage of this distraction to pull away from under Nikandros’ body and promptly made a run for it. Damen didn’t mind the lack of manners, happy to finally be left alone with likely an eventual national wrestling champion.
“Good morning, Your Highness. I see you are in a better mood today. Are you sure it is this sport that you want?
His smile was back, soft and sincere.
“Yes, and I’m more than ready. Teach me the basics,” Damen ordered.
Maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident, because it was clear he was no match for his mentor’s many years of practice.
After two hours of being pinned down again and again, he was starting to have bruises on his back, and pain bloomed everywhere. Also, he had the feeling Nikandros was taking a wicked pleasure at having the upper hand on him—quite literally.
“So, are you giving up?” his opponent asked, starting to be out of breath as well.
His breath kept coming directly against Damen’s shoulder.
“I wouldn’t call it giving up,” he denied. “Let’s say we could simply continue this session tomorrow?”
“Alright, Your Highness. As you please.”
Without taking the time to dress again, Damen headed towards the baths, and Nikandros followed him. It was far from the first time they would go at the same moment, but this time, Damen let himself throw a few glances in his direction. Nikandros was rather handsome, and of course, very respectful—he wasn’t spying on him. He was well-mannered, trained hard every day, wasn’t annoyed by his whims (or at least, didn’t show it), he…
Damen couldn’t stop himself from calling his name. The other man turned around on the spot, caught off guard. They weren’t used to having conversations while taking their bath.
“Your Highness?”
The title added distance between them.
“You can call me Damen,” he assured, keeping his gaze resolutely down. “Hmm, I was wondering… actually, I wanted to know if, um… we trained well, so-
“What is it?” Nikandros cut him off with a gentle tone. He had dropped the formalities. “Damen?”
“Well, could we say we’re friends now?”
Nikandros bursted into laughter before clasping his shoulder cheerfully.
“Of course, Damen. Tomorrow at the training field, same time?”
The young prince keenly hurried to agree with him.
Since Kastor was an adult, he didn’t have as much free time to play with his brother, so Damen was very happy to have formed a new friendship with someone else. During the upcoming years, the two men were rarely seen without one another, quickly becoming the best soldiers from the royal army as well as the best friends.
Until Nikandros became the Kyros of Delphas, and had to leave Ios.
***
Laurent had stopped eating. He was now staring up at Damen as he was getting to the end of his story.
“Stop looking at me like this, and tell me what you’re thinking,” he breathed.
He had a feeling Laurent was keeping something to himself, and he didn’t want anything left unsaid between them. The King of Vere crossed his legs, and took a moment to consider what he was about to say. He didn’t want to rush his partner, or cut short to their conversation because of a clumsy remark. He had Damen’s full attention and trust, and wanted to keep them.
So he tried to contemplate the situation from a different angle.
“Could Nikandros have given hints he was attracted to you in one way or another? Are you sure he only ever saw you as a friend?”
It was Damen’s turn to stare at Laurent with a strange look in his eyes. He was about to answer that he thought it was obvious for the both of them, but he refrained.
Laurent noticed it, and had to hold back a smirk ; he had struck the right chord.
“Well, I suppose it’s not because it was obvious for me that it was for him too. I never questioned him directly,” Damen finally admitted.
“What about you? Have you ever taken the time to wonder for a second what your feelings were for him?” Laurent supplied.
He was using his final move to try to make Damen understand his feelings. He had put down his finger on a weakness, and wanted to dive fully into it now, in order to better comprehend the bond between the two friends.
Damen didn’t answer right after, nor later on, and long seconds of heavy silence passed without neither of them breaking it.
“I think… well… it’s possible you aren’t wrong,” Damen finally acknowledged, after helping himself to a bit more of the wine left on the table.
“Did you just admit that I’m right?”
Damen rolled his eyes at the thought. Then, he leaned over slightly to grab a peach, and bit into it as he started to recall old memories.
***
12 years ago
The palace of Ios was usually rather quiet at night, and that evening wasn’t an exception. However, in the crown prince’s bedroom, it was a little less silent, since Damen had just claimed victory after winning for the third time in a row against his best friend at card games.
“You’ll never reach my legendary luck,” he exclaimed, a huge smile splitting his face.
Damen loved winning, and he loved bragging about it. Truly, he was getting insufferable. Nikandros sighted, disappointed, before putting away the deck of cards back in its worn-out box.
“It’s with regret that I admit defeat. This hand was decidedly not on my side,” he yielded.
“Yeah, right,” Damen retorted, a smirk still lingering at the corner of his lips. “You said that last time, and the one before that, and the one even before too.”
“Well I suppose fortune specifically doesn’t smile on me when I’m playing against you,” Nikandros argued.
“So you owe me one,” the younger man boasted, delighted. “We had previously agreed the loser had to do everything the winner wants, and I’ll definitely take advantage of that.”
“A promise is a promise, what do you want from me?”
Damen put on a mischievous expression. He knew very well what he was about to ask his friend, he had waited too long for such an opportunity to present itself. He stepped closer gently, walking around the table that separated them, and stopping just a few centimetres away. The candlelight was starting to fade, but stayed bright enough to lighten up Nikandros’ facial features. Damen was way too aware he was acting awkwardly all of a sudden, but he couldn’t help it.
“Alright. Hmm, I kinda have a… favour to ask you,” he started, a little less sure of himself than he was previously.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to make me polish all your shoes?” Nikandros whined.
“What? No, of course not!” the prince replied, shocked that his friend could have thought him capable of demanding that from him.
“Tell me what you want then,” Nikandros insisted, curious to understand why Damen was reacting so strongly.
“It’s nothing like a tasteless chore, I assure you. It’s just that, hum… Actually, it’s a bit particular, so you can totally refuse if you don’t want to, okay?”
“I promised you I would respect our bet, I’ll do it. But seriously, what is it you want to request from me that’s so terrible?” He was losing patience.
“It’s not terrible! I, huh, I wanted to know if I could… if we could… kiss? Only for practice! I gathered that you had already, hum, experience in this domain…”
Damen felt his cheeks flush despite himself. Nikandros looked at him, confusion written on his face. He was trying to discover if it was a joke or not, but quickly understood it wasn’t the case considering his friend’s anxious behaviour.
“It’s an… odd request, I have to admit,” Nikandros slightly stuttered.
“Oh fuck! Forget what I just said,” Damen panicked, backing a few steps away.
“No need for that. I mean, it’s unexpected, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he tried to reassure.
“Oh,” Damen said, very eloquently.
Nikandros sighed heavily, surprisingly less confident than usual. He got closer to Damen, until he could feel his breath on his face. With one hand, he replaced a loose strand of hair behind his ear, while with the other, he caressed his cheek.
The prince felt his breath quicken considerably, and the contact of Nikandros’ hand made his heart grow fonder—and maybe not just his heart. He wasn’t so sure anymore about his physical state. It was happening. His friend hadn’t pushed him away, quite the opposite actually.
Nikandros stepped forward again, their breaths mingling, and brushing their lips.
“Are you sure?”
His eyelids already closed, Damen could only agree. He was burning with both apprehension and impatience at the same time. Nikandros hesitated for a last brief moment, before launching himself onto his lips.
***
Laurent hadn’t dared to speak a word since Damen had stopped himself; he was considering. However, Damen did not like it too much, because he wondered, sounding worried, “Laurent, be honest with me please. I need to know what you’re thinking.”
The blond could only admit the truth.
“I think Nikandros is still in love with you.”
Damen lifted up his head to meet Laurent’s gaze, always a little confused.
“By still, you meant to say he was in love before, which I strongly doubt.”
He still hadn’t understood; Laurent did. Nikandros’ behaviour, full of hatred when they met, his special relationship with Damen, everything made sense now. He just needed to find a way to prove Nikandros’ feelings were more loving than friendly, while also making Damen realise the kyros’ presence between them didn’t bother him anymore—all in all, nothing too difficult.
***
The crown of golden laurels was laid on top of Nikandros’ hair with all the gravity and seriousness of an offering, by Damen himself since he was King. The kyros had finally beaten his best friend, claiming again the title of champion that had been his beforehand. Damen felt only pride toward him.
Further away, Laurent’s smile didn’t exactly fill him with confidence.
The Okton had officially come to an end, and Damen retreated to his apartments, exhausted. He was joined shortly after by Laurent—who still had an insufferable smirk on his face that Damen only wanted to kiss away—followed by Nikandros, beaming with happiness from his win.
“Don’t you think Nikandros deserves a little treat for his victory?” the Veretian whispered before taking a sip of wine from his half empty glass.
Laurent almost never drank. He probably made an exception that day. Damen loved seeing him more relaxed, easily laughing, and cheeks reddening, but he also knew that whenever Laurent drank alcohol, it was to give him courage in order to do something in particular.
“I agree. You did really well, Nik. Your training with Laurent paid off.”
The blond slightly shoved the kyros’ back, forcing him to get closer to Damen. The latter then understood that whatever his lover had anticipated, it would be happening at this very instant.
Nikandros leaned toward him, slowly, and pressed his lips against his cheek. Damen straightened up suddenly at that, surprised. He met Laurent’s gaze who let himself collapse on the sofa next to him. Laurent kissed him, briefly, innocently, before grabbing his chin between his fingers and tilting it toward Nik.
His friend kissed him too, and Damen realised that, maybe, Laurent had a point and they had always been a little more than just friends. He returned Nik’s kiss, happy and fulfilled.
“So, was Laurent right?” Nikandros whispered against his ear. “Did I win your heart on top of the Okton?”
Damen couldn’t stop himself from bursting into laughter while agreeing.
“You’ve always had my heart.”
“Of course I was right!” the blond quickly retorted, annoyed that the truth of his words could have been questioned at all.
“Laurent is always right,” Damen confirmed.